by Glenda Diana
"Its not a teasing matter, lass." Mrs. Reed murmured, turning to face her.
"I don't believe in ghosts." When the older woman started to speak, Arysa cut in. "It doesn't matter what I might have believed before my memory loss, what matters now is that I don't."
"The ghost won't care what you believe. Cleaning those rooms has brought him back."
Arysa laughed. "Nonsense. There are no ghosts. Besides, if the old Lord does haunt the Manor then who are we to complain? It is his home after all. Now, shall we talk about something of more importance? What exactly happened to make me lose my memory?"
Mrs. Reed began fidgeting again. "Excuse me?"
"My memory or lack of it ... something must have happened to me in order for me to lose it. I would like to know what that something was."
Before Mrs. Reed could answer Tairam entered the kitchen with a flustered look upon her face. "Excuse me, ma'am," she murmured to Arysa before turning to Mrs. Reed. "I'm afraid I need your help again."
Mrs. Reed smiled and shook her head. "You're a pitiful lass, Tairam," she laughed. "What have you done now?"
"The same thing I always do," Tairam smiled. "I moved Mr. Bayne's desk so that I could sweep and mop and now I can't get it back in place."
"Where's Hanah?" Mrs. Reed asked, going toward the door.
"Upstairs dusting."
"Excuse us, lass," Mrs. Reed said looking back at Arysa. "I'll be back shortly."
Arysa listened to their mumbled voices and laughter until they faded. Slowly, she began picking at her food. It seemed rather convenient the way Tairam had suddenly showed up. She shook that thought from her mind. It wasn't like any of them had anything to hide from her, especially if she was Zebual's wife. But just the same, she knew that no matter what question she might ask she was going to receive a polite reminder to ask Zebual.
When the backdoor opened, Arysa turned around to find Reese entering. He seemed startled to find her sitting at the table. His cheeks began turning red.
"Good day, ma'am," he mumbled, jerking the hat from his head.
"Good day, Reese." Arysa smiled. "And how are the horses today?"
The young man raked his fingers through his tousled brown hair and cleared his throat. "Just fine, ma'am."
"Please, call me Arysa," she said, watching the nervousness that seemed to overtake him. "How many horses does Mr. Bayne have?"
"There are six fine mounts stabled."
"And does Mr. Bayne ride often?"
Reese's eyes narrowed slightly. "Not of late," he replied.
"And what of me, Reese? Do I ride often?" When he didn't answer immediately, she quirked a brow at him. "Is that how I lost my memory?"
Reese stepped aside when Edmond opened the door and entered.
"Good day, Edmond." Arysa called out. "Let me guess, you need Reese to help you with something."
Edmond's brown eyes moved from Arysa to Reese. "No, ma'am. I came in for my midday meal, but if it's not ready then I'll come back."
Some of the tension in Arysa eased. "I imagine that whatever Mrs. Reed has cooking on the stove is your meal. Help yourself."
Edmond moved past Reese, his gaze connecting with hers for a brief moment. Arysa turned her attention back to Reese. She couldn't decide if it was her questions that made him nervous or just her.
"Mmmm," Edmond murmured. "Come help yourself, Reese. Mrs. Reed has cooked us up some beef stew."
"I was asking Reese about the horses." Arysa waited until Edmond turned toward her. "I also was asked him if that was how I lost my memory. Did I fall from a horse?"
All three occupants turned when Justin entered the room. His gaze met the men's first before moving on to Arysa. The tension in the room grew instantly thick. "Is there a problem?" he asked.
"She wants to know if she lost her memory falling from a horse." Reese mumbled.
Edmond turned his full attention on the stew he was eating, while Reese stared at the floor as if he had never seen it before.
"Actually, you have an excellent seat when it comes to riding." Justin answered.
"I do?" she asked, somewhat surprised that Justin would actually volunteer an answer. Though Zebual made excuses for his friend, Arysa had the distinct impression he did not like her. "And how often did I ride?"
"Every evening with your husband, ma'am."
She had a feeling he was making a crude comment more than stating the truth. Her eyes narrowed on him. Either way, her irritation began rising. "Ahhh, then perhaps it was boredom that brought on my lack of memory."
Reese coughed and quickly excused himself before jerking the door open and slamming it close behind him. Arysa knew Edmond was staring at the two of them, but she ignored him.
"What say you to that, Justin?"
For a reply, Justin shrugged.
Edmond placed his empty bowl on the stove and with a slight shake of his head, he made a quick exit out the backdoor.
Arysa continued to stare at Justin. "How exactly did I lose my memory if not from falling from a horse?"
"You don't remember?" he asked in all innocence.
"If I did, I wouldn't be asking!" she snapped out. Silently she counted to ten, hoping to get hold of her rising temper. "I see you are like Zebual, you like to play word games."
"Word games?"
She saw the sides of his mouth twitch in humor. "You know, I've come to the conclusion that I don't like you, Justin."
This time he laughed aloud. "I'm wounded," he replied and then laughed again.
Tipping her head to the side she studied him carefully. There was something about his attitude that nagged at her ... as if he were used to teasing her like a sibling would or a close friend. "Who are you?" she asked suspiciously as her gaze narrowed even more.
"When you regain your memory you'll remember who I am."
"I don't believe I care to gain that much of my memory back!" she snapped out, coming to her feet. "The only thing I am certain of is my desire to do you harm."
"You would never harm me," Justin replied.
"You think not? How wrong you may be." With her head held high, she walked past him, leaving him to his own provoking self.
Justin shook his head and smiled. Zebual was not going to be happy when he learned of this. The smile slowly faded from his lips.
Chapter Six
Zebual leaned back on the settee, his gaze boring into that of Mrs. Reed's. "What do you mean she's asking questions?"
"I told you," the older woman muttered. She had just finished setting up the table in front of the hearth. "She wanted to know about you and why you stay to the darkness."
"And?"
"I told her to ask you."
"I meant, what else was she asking about?"
"How she lost her memory."
Zebual gave a heavy sigh. "What did you tell her?"
"Nothing," Mrs. Reed murmured. "Tairam needed my help so I left before answering."
Zebual's gaze moved over to where Justin was leaning against the hearth. He had a feeling there was more to come. "No doubt you have more to tell me."
Justin smiled and told him of Arysa's encounter with Reese and Edmond.
Zebual's eyes narrowed. "Tell me all."
"You know me so well." Justin laughed. "Arysa declared that she didn't like me and that she wanted to do me harm."
Zebual gave a half laugh. "Would you mind not provoking her? I want no more verbal battles between the two of you."
Justin sighed and gave a brief nod of his head. "She was most animated, like she used to be."
"She'll be herself again, but we can't rush this." Zebual started to relax when Mrs. Reed's next words stopped him.
"One more thing."
"What now?" he sighed.
"She said she heard noises above stairs."
Justin eyes met with Zebual's.
"Let me guess, you told her that it was nothing more than a ghost, right?" Zebual asked.
Mrs. Reed blushed. "She's the one that
decided it was Connor. I didn't say a word."
"I don't want to hear anymore. Send her to me."
"I will, as soon as I see her."
"Which means?" Zebual asked, with a slightly lifting of his brow.
"Last I knew she was going upstairs to have a look around. She wanted to make sure nothing was damaged or missing."
Zebual looked to the window, then his gaze shot back to the older woman. "She's not to be up there after dark."
Mrs. Reed stiffened her back and lifted her chin. "She meant to get up there earlier, but she helped Hanah and Tairam with cleaning the dining hall."
With a grunt of discomfort, Zebual stood. "Finish here while I go retrieve Arysa."
"Do you want me to go get her?" Justin asked.
Zebual shook his head. "I'll have Arysa move the cart out in the hallway when we're through with our supper. I'll see you both tomorrow."
Mrs. Reed waited until Zebual had left before turning to Justin. "Time is running out," she sighed heavily. "I hope she don't lead him on a merry chase."
Justin nodded. "Things cannot be rushed. She will come around."
"I wish there was something I could do."
"There isn't, so stop your fretting." Justin smiled and patted her shoulder. "There is nothing any of us can do. It is all up to Arysa."
"Aye, it is."
"You worry over much. But then you've always been tender of heart."
Mrs. Reed gave a hearty laugh. "Watch yourself, lad. You'll have this old mind of mine conjuring up lustful visions of you."
Justin laughed. "I knew there was a wild woman beneath the sweet gentle exterior that you show."
"If I were a few years younger I'd be showing you just how wild," she said, waggling her finger at him. "A handsome man like you wouldn't have stood a chance against me in my younger days. Ahhh, but those days are gone, more's the pity."
Side by side they left Zebual's room. "If I did not think of you as my own sweet aunt, I'd show you just how old you aren't. Now, enough of this chatter, we have things to do."
Mrs. Reed beamed a smile up at him. "You're a good lad. We'll get through this trying time, of that I'm sure."
"I hope so ... I truly hope so."
It was nearly dark by the time Arysa made it up to the third floor. She had come upon Hanah and Tairam cleaning and before she knew it, she was helping them and time seemed to slip by. She envied the friendship that the two women shared. It was easy to see that they had been friends for a very long time. When asked how long they had known each other, Hanah proclaimed six years, while Tairam said it was eight. They laughed and finally agreed that it seemed as if they had known each other forever.
The word 'ghost' played through her mind as she climbed the stairs. The key felt overly cold in her hand as she placed it in the lock and turned it. She was letting her imagination get the best of her and she knew it. And whom did she have to thank for her over active imagination? It did no good to point fingers at anyone else, Arysa thought pushing the door open. She was the only one that controlled her thoughts, emotions and imagination.
Looking down the long dark hallway, she sighed. Lifting the lantern high, she moved from room to room. Everything looked to be in order, but then she hadn't reached the Lady's room yet. She paused at the door to the nursery. The sight of the empty cradle made her heart lurch with sadness.
Turning away, she hesitantly made her way to the Lady's room. Unlatching the door, she waited for it to swing open. Nothing seemed to be out of place. She moved around the room slowly, letting her gaze touch on everything.
Stepping out into the hallway, she looked over to where the door to the master bedchamber stood open. She tried to shake off her fear. She was being ridiculous. What was the worst that she could find should she look inside? The mauve dress, her mind answered. Pushing that thought away, she moved forward. Taking a deep breath, she cautiously peeked around the doorframe. Her vision blurred and her world tilted wildly until she closed her eyes tightly and pressed her back against the wall.
She had been wrong, the worst wasn't finding the mauve dress. Her heart was pounding so hard that it pained her clear down to her toes. Imagination or not, she was so scared she couldn't get her feet to move. Common sense told her to look again, that she was letting her fear get the better of her. But the rash side of her told her to run as fast as she could to the stairway. She would have chosen the second choice, but seeing as how she couldn't move, it was overruled as an option.
Keeping her eyes closed, she peered around the door again and slowly opened her eyes. It was still there. Turning, she meant to flee and instead ran into a body. Her loud scream pierced the air, as she jumped back and slammed into the wall.
"God almighty! Are you trying to make me deaf?"
Arysa opened her eyes and felt her knees grow weak in relief. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"What in blazes is wrong with you?"
She shook her head and tried to find the strength to speak again. She finally gave up. With the tilting of her head, she tried to indicate he should look inside the room. When Zebual continued to stare at her as if she had lost her mind, she scowled at him. Was the man dense? She had to get hold of herself. It wasn't his fault that she was on the verge of hysteria.
"The room," her voice rasped out.
Zebual studied her ashen face before he peered around the doorframe. "What about it?"
Arysa had the urge to slap him. How dare he act as if nothing were wrong? Hesitantly, she looked inside and then closed her eyes again. "The bed."
Her words were softer than a whisper, but Zebual heard them. As he made his way toward the bed, he looked around. "You did a fine job cleaning."
Again, she opened her eyes. "The bed," she repeated.
"What about it?"
Arysa threw up her hands in agitation. Taking a calming breath of courage, she moved forward until she was standing behind him. Reaching out, she pointed to the bed. "Are you blind?"
Zebual picked up the mauve gown. "I do at times have problems with my eyesight, but I do see the gown, Arysa."
"And?" she whispered.
Zebual heard the quivering to her voice and turned around. She was trembling. "And?"
Dropping her head in defeat, Arysa gave up. She was obviously losing her mind.
The feel of her head lightly touching his chest was causing Zebual to tremble. Cautiously, he put his arm around her shoulder, wanting to offer her some kind of comfort. He nearly stumbled when she moved closer to him. The scent of her filled his lungs. He could feel the heat of her blood as it coursed through her body.
"Do you not see the indent in the center of the bed?" she whispered, as her hand clutched at the material of his shirt.
Zebual looked over his shoulder. "Yes, I see it."
Arysa raised her head and stared up at him. "Someone has been lying in that bed."
Momentarily he was distracted, as he stared down into her dark green eyes, then he pulled himself back to the topic and the problem at hand. "Did it ever occur to you that I might have come up here and laid down?"
Arysa searched his eyes. "Did you?" she murmured softly.
"Not that I recall."
Anger mixed with fear. "Then why in the hell did you bring it up?!"
Zebual shrugged. "I was just making an observation."
"Making an observation?" Arysa fought down the need to scream again. "Save your observation. I told you I heard someone up here last night and there is your proof."
"Arysa, you're overreacting. No one was up here and there is a reason for the mattress being that way."
"I know there is," she growled out in a low voice. "I just told you the reason."
Zebual laughed, he couldn't help it. "Your reasoning isn't correct and mine is. The mattress is old and it has a habit of sinking in the middle. It will have to be flipped over and it should last for awhile before having to flip it again."
Well that took care of some of her anger and fear until she spo
tted the dress. "Explain the gown."
The mocking tip of her dark brows brought a smile to his face. She was so full of fire, he thought, as her eyes snapped green flames at him. "I wish there was an easy explanation for that, but at the moment I can't think of one. Did you by chance put it there?"
"No, I did not! That's the second time I've found it that same spot. Someone else must have a key to this floor. That's the only excuse there is ... unless you want to take into account Mrs. Reed and her ghost stories, which I refuse to do."
"Ahhh, I don't think you refused the idea of a ghost too thoroughly," he said with a grin.
Arysa turned and headed for the door. She wasn't going to talk to him. Not about this subject matter anyway. She'd had enough scares, fright and bothersome people for one day.
"Arysa," Zebual called out.
"What?"
He ignored her abruptness. "I'm afraid I'll need your help descending the stairs. I just barely made it up them, I don't think I could handle going down by myself."
Guilt washed over her instantly. "Why did you come up here to begin with?" she asked, making her way back to him. Placing her arm around his waist, she began leading him forward.
"To check on you."
"Thank you, but I wish you wouldn't have taxed your strength because of me."
Zebual leaned some of his weight on her and sighed with relief. It was still too hard for him to stand for long periods of time. But he couldn't regret exhausting his energy, not now. He was holding her, granted only slightly, but still it gave him pleasure. And she had made him laugh, a real laugh. His thoughts paused when she stopped in front of the nursery.
"One moment," she whispered moving into the room. Leaning over the bed, she smoothed her hand over the cool sheet making sure there were no wrinkles.
Zebual watched her intensely, as a lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. It was her blasted fault again. The expression on her face was like nothing he had seen before. "What's wrong," he asked, when she continued to stare at the empty bed.
"Do you have any children, Zebual?" she whispered.
He knew exactly what she was asking ... did 'they' have any children. She didn't believe they were in truth joined, but then he couldn't blame her. Who would want to admit that they were attached to something that looked like him? Yet, there was a small part of her that hungered for the secrets of her past and hoped at least to find some goodness and happiness there.
