The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2)

by Amalie Vantana

  “What are you thinking about, Jack? You are scowling.”

  Immediately changing my expression to smile down at her, I said, “Nothing, my love, but I would like to take you somewhere so we could be private.”

  She looked away, biting her bottom lip and driving me to distraction. Retaining my hold upon her hand when the dance ended only lasted a few moments for Sam came up to us.

  “Well, John, I see that you have met Miss White. I hope you do not mind, but I am going to steal her away as I have yet to dance with her.”

  “I acquiesce only because you are my host. Miss White, it has been a pleasure.” I released her hand, facing Sam. “How did you leave my sister?”

  Sam met my challenge with one of his own; one that warned to step warily.

  “Reluctantly. Perhaps you should go to her.”

  “Perhaps I will.” Spinning away and walking toward the foyer, Rose appeared at my side.

  “Mr. Martin, tell me it is not so.”

  Her voice held a surprising amount of emotion, as if she were begging me to deny whatever it was that she had heard. One guess would suffice to know what it was.

  Laying my hand over hers, and glancing over my shoulder toward the dancers, Guinevere was scowling at us with a hardness surrounding her mouth that I had never before seen. Smiling and pulling Rose with me out of the room, we slipped into Sam’s book room unnoticed. Since it was the only room not opened to others, we could speak undisturbed. A branch of candles lighting the room allowed me to see her concern. We sat on the two chairs in front of Sam’s large desk.

  “It is true that I am betrothed to Miss Clark, or Miss White as she now calls herself. We have been betrothed since August.”

  “What is she doing trying to ensnare Sam?”

  Ensnare, indeed. To anyone who did not know Guinevere well they would certainly think that, but I knew that Guinevere’s actions were to mask a much deeper, more nefarious game being played. “I do not know, but I mean to discover the truth. We would have been married long since if she had not run from me.”

  “You love her?” Her thin brows bunched together.

  “More than breath and life.”

  Rose stood and moved to the door like one in a daze. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, looking over her shoulder at me. “You have my sympathy, John,” she said before she went out closing the door.

  The woman was a complete mystery, and I had no notion why she should feel sympathetic toward me. It was not as if I did not know what I would be receiving when I married Guinevere. Shrugging it off, I looked around the room and breathed in the wonderful scent of books.

  Sam had hundreds of volumes, and moving to the shelves, there was a feeling of contentment washing over me. Having spent only a few hours in the book room since arriving in Charleston, it still held many mysteries for me. Not nearly enough time had been spent in the book room to satisfy the connoisseur that I was.

  Moving up the rounding staircase, it impressed me by the simple touches that had been carved into the wood. From afar, it would look like a wooden spiral staircase, though that was unusual to find in a house, but up close, one could see the story that was being told by the artist who carved the masterpiece. The staircase was carved to be a gateway to something mysterious and alluring.

  On the second level, some of the titles of novels were foreign to me; some were like finding old friends in a crowd. Plucking a volume from the shelf, I had settled into the window seat when the door below opened.

  Guinevere closed the door looking around the room. For a moment, my mind was sure that she had come to find me, but that faded when she went to Sam’s desk and knelt down, looking under the desk.

  The door opened again before I had a chance to move, and Rose came in. When the door shut with a snap, Guinevere’s head slowly rose until her eyes were looking over the desktop. Rose pulled her hand from her skirt, a small silver pistol in her hand.

  “Do not attempt it. I will shoot you before you have a chance to throw your poisonous dart,” Rose said.

  Guinevere smiled, then laughed as she stood and held up a dart about six inches in length. She dropped it on Sam’s desk.

  “I had forgotten how astute you are, Rose,” Guinevere said.

  “You will tell me what you are doing here and for what you are searching.”

  “I do not believe that I will.” Guinevere smirked. “Now the Phantoms rush in and capture the bad woman. Is that not how these situations work?”

  “I could shoot you and claim it was self defense,” Rose said.

  Knowing that my pistol was in nestled in my inner coat pocket did little to encourage me. It was not loaded. Nor did it need to be, because I did not believe that Rose would shoot Guinevere this night. I had a suspicion that her words were all for my edification.

  Guinevere’s eyes lit with appreciation as she said, “And do you think that I would not put up a fight?”

  “I am most assured that you would, but I am hoping that you would rather make a bargain.”

  What the devil was the woman up to? What could she possibly have to bargain that Guinevere would want? She did not even know Guinevere all that well. Guinevere had only arrived in Charleston a few short months ago.

  Rose lowered the pistol and lifted her skirt. I averted my eyes, looking straight across the room at the bookshelves.

  “Where did you come upon this?” Guinevere demanded.

  She was holding a gold ring shaped like a coiled snake. What was Rose doing with it?

  “We both know who is here and whom they are searching for.” Rose took a deep breath, raising the pistol again. “Go back to your people and tell them to keep away from mine. If I see you anywhere near us, any of us, I will turn you over to the royal guards.”

  Royal guards?

  My breath refused to leave my throat, trying to choke me. I knew who those men were who wore the snake rings, but had never heard them called royal guards. Not even Frederick or George had called them that. They were in Charleston to find Ma belle, who was Guinevere.

  “What is your interest in him?” Guinevere was scowling and there was a defiant tilt to her chin.

  “He is a Phantom, his sister is part of my team.”

  They were speaking of me.

  “You must love them greatly,” Guinevere said with a touch of envy in her voice.

  “They are my family, all I have left to me,” Rose said wistfully then she took a step forward. “I will give you a few minutes to say goodbye, for good.”

  Rose lowered the pistol and turned, opening the door then slipping through. As the door closed, Guinevere leaned forward, her hand resting on the top of the desk.

  Moving toward her, it was not until my feet touched the bottom step of the spiral staircase that Guinevere’s eyes flew to mine, and her hand covered her mouth. She gave a muffled cry.

  In four long strides, she was in my arms. Her arms wrapped around my waist, her head resting against my chest.

  “What are you going to do with me?” she asked softly.

  “Kiss you,” I replied.

  I raised her chin and wiped away the two tears that were on her cheeks. I looked into her eyes for a long moment, savoring the nearness of the woman I loved. I lowered my forehead to hers and then our noses brushed against each other. Her eyes slid shut, and such a swelling of love overtook me, filling every part of my chest.

  My mouth met hers, and I kissed her as I had longed to do, but had been unable during the fight at the boat race. It was as if I was finally able to breathe again after seven long months of suffocation. Our mouths molded together, and my hands wrapped around the sides of her neck, angling her face up so that I could better reach her mouth. Our lips moved against each other, and her hands gripped my shoulders. Suddenly her kiss changed, her body became stiff as she pressed as much of her against me as she could. I was thoroughly enjoying her so close, but a small part of my mind was working. When a salty tear touched my lips, my eyes opened.


  She was crying, though she made no sound. Suddenly, it was clear. Her kiss was meant as a goodbye. I pulled my head back, staring at Guinevere with as much intensity in my eyes as she had kissed me with.

  “No,” I said sternly. “You listen to me and listen well. You are mine. You have been mine since the moment I saw you in the yard of that inn.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath but would not meet my eyes. She meant to leave me again, to listen to Rose over me. My hands were still holding her neck, and I gently forced up her head until her eyes met mine.

  “You and I are going to be together this time, if I have to tie you up and carry you to the church.”

  “You do not understand. You do not know.”

  I was tired of that excuse. It was true that I had not found the Holy Order; I had not found the leader of the ones who were after her, but I would. I would end them all, seeing to it that they never hurt the women I loved again.

  “Then tell me. Tell me, and I give you my word I will see you safely out of it,” I said.

  “I almost believe you would,” she said in a soft voice filled with wonder.

  “I swear it. No one is taking you away from me again, if I have to storm hell to make it so.”

  She squeaked as she threw her arms around me, pushing my mouth against hers and causing us both to stumble. I caught her against me, holding us up. She broke away, but her hand rested on my cheek.

  “Meet me at St. Philip’s at eight in the morning,” she whispered before leaving me alone in the book room.

  Sitting on the edge of Sam’s desk and trying to calm myself, I picked up Guinevere’s poisonous dart. It had the appearance of a dart from a child’s game. Poison rings, poisonous darts, Guinevere was a bit frightening.

  The door opened, and Rose came in.

  “Close the door,” I said.

  She complied, then leaned against it, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Though I understand why you did it, threatening Guinevere is unacceptable.”

  “You know nothing of which you speak. The woman is a danger to us all,” Rose said.

  “It is not she, but those she works for. You may be sure that I will destroy the Holy Order, not only for what they are doing to Guinevere, but for what they did to my father and sister.”

  Rose pushed away from the door taking a step toward me, her eyes round in concern. “This is what I was trying to prevent.”

  “It is not your place to try to prevent anything that I choose to do.”

  I did not say it in a threatening way or harshly, but it had the effect of sending her back against the door with her shaking hand pressed against her chest.

  “You love her enough to risk your life? The lives of us all?”

  “I am hoping that will not be the case,” I replied, but she had to have seen the truth. I was willing to risk everything to protect Guinevere, except my sister and mother. If I had my way, the Phantoms would not be a part of what I was going to do. I did not want their lives to be put at risk. Knowing my sister, though, there would be no keeping her out of the mission. She had as much right as I to see the mission played out to the end. Sam was also determined to join us. I hoped I could persuade him to keep his team out of what was ahead of us.

  “I will not help you in this mistake.”

  Why did she think I was asking for her help? I barely knew the woman, though she appeared to know Guinevere well. I would ask Sam about her on the morrow, along with what his game was and the rumors involving my sister. The man had much to account for.

  “I am not asking for your help,” I said.

  Rose reached down against the door until she found the doorknob. She held my gaze firmly. “I hope you succeed.” She slipped out of the room.

  She could rest assured that I would succeed even if it was the last task that I ever accomplished.

  Chapter 15

  Jack

  Approaching the church with its tall steeple, I was a bit uneasy. Guinevere wanted to meet in a church. If anyone else had requested to meet in a church, I would have thought nothing about it, but she was Guinevere, the white phantom. It felt out of character and highly suspicious.

  Looking around, no one was in sight, so I slipped through a side door. Entering the long sanctuary, my eyes took a moment to grow accustomed to the darker room.

  The sanctuary was a large, open room with tall, white columns, a vaulted ceiling and rows and rows of white pews. There were a few candles lit at the front of the room, and the morning light streamed in through the windows. There was only one person in the sanctuary, and she was seated in the second pew. I walked forward until I reached the pew and slid in next to her. Her head was bowed, and confusion covered me. Guinevere was praying. She raised her head but did not look at me.

  “If we are going to be together, there are some things you need to know.”

  She inhaled sharply, and I knew that there was a war raging inside her. Whatever she was about to confide to me was not light.

  “You are wrong about everything you think you know about the Holy Order.”

  “I do not see how—”

  She turned her body to face me. “You are wrong.”

  “Tell me everything, beginning with who the leader is.”

  She was shaking her head before I was through speaking. “It is not as simple as that. I can only tell you information that pertains to me, and you cannot ask me more.”

  “Then, I will not.”

  She turned again, facing the front, taking a few minutes to breathe deeply. I waited, though not well. A part of me wanted to know everything that instant. I wanted action. I wanted to move against the Holy Order immediately. But a larger part wanted to be there for Guinevere, and if that meant being silent and allowing her time to collect the courage to admit her part in the Holy Order, then that is what I would do.

  “Everything I told you in Philadelphia was the truth. My parents did die, and I was left in the care of a protector. I did not know at the time, but my protector had been a member of the Holy Order. It was not until he died, and his will left me in the care of the Holy Order that I learned the truth.”

  She inhaled in a shaky breath, and I wanted to resurrect her guardian so I could beat him soundly. Slowly, I reached over and laid my hand over hers on the edge of the bench. She stared down at our hands for a few moments before continuing.

  “When the Holy Order came for me, I was fourteen. For four years, I have been a servant of the twelve.”

  She has been a slave? A fire blazed within me, but I held it back. “Twelve?”

  “The Holy Order of Levitas has twelve lords, one supreme ruler, and there were four branches, known only as Levitas. Richard’s group, as you know, is no longer active.”

  That was dashed unfortunate. “What kind of missions do they make you do?” I forced the words past the lump in my throat and my tongue that felt heavy.

  When she glanced over at me, her wonderful, beautiful eyes assured me I did not truly want to know. My left hand balled into a fist, and my tight glove was stretching across my knuckles more than it was made to do.

  “Where did Richard come in?”

  She turned her palm up and laced her fingers with my own. “General Lewis was one of the twelve, but when he died, Richard hoped to take his place. Though Richard was named the leader, the lords knew he presented a great threat to the order.

  “The attempts against President Monroe were entirely Richard’s doing. The Holy Order discovered it and sent me to stop him. He thought I was sent there to help him.

  “Richard was betrothed to your mother, so he set me up as his ward.” She smiled and looked over at me. “Separate houses were my requirement. The house I stayed in belonged to the widow of one of Richard’s former servants.”

  That explained much, but what was the Holy Order and what kind of threat did they pose? If there were three branches left, it was more involved than we realized. But, if you removed the head, the body could not function. Going aft
er the Holy Order was still a necessity.

  “I want you out of their hands, but to do that I need you to tell me with what I am dealing.”

  “I cannot tell you.”

  I wanted to shake her, then kiss her, then shake her again.

  “I can only show you,” she said.

  My eyes rose to hers, and she was smiling though in an alarming way. Her eyes were narrowed, her smile harsh.

  “By all means, show me.”

  She rose, and I followed. We left the church, walking toward Meeting Street. She was walking like a determined woman with conquering on her mind. She could have led a cavalry charge.

  We stopped where Market and Church Street connected, and Guinevere turned to me.

  “The sight you are about to see will not be pleasant.”

  My eyes started searching the streets for what she meant. If I knew what I was up against I could prepare, but Guinevere was not one to reveal her hand too soon, even to me.

  “I need your promise that when I say we should part ways, do it, without questions or hesitation. If you cannot agree, we go no further.”

  That did not bode well with me. I did not want her out of my sight. How could I protect her if she was not with me? It struck me rather forcefully as I stared at her determined face, she did not need me to protect her. It stung, but she had done a rather good job of protecting herself over the last four years that she had been a slave of the Holy Order. When I reluctantly agreed she turned, and we began walking again, turning down Market Street and walking toward the buildings that made up the marketplace.

  We went into one of the buildings, and I followed Guinevere past butchers and men selling fish. There were slaves all over the market, trying to sell their owner’s products; some were small children. We stopped beside a butcher stand and Guinevere greeted the large man by name. He eyed me intently with his sharp cleaver raised over a slab of meat. Guinevere assured him that I was a friend. He nodded as he went back to chopping up the meat.