“I didn’t know ya had need of one, milord.”
“Yes, well, my wife can’t seem to sleep at night thanks to a ghost, she says.
“A ghost, milord?”
“Haunts the west wing supposedly, though I’ve never seen her.” He set his tumbler down to retrieve paper from his desk. “Beth wanted to go back to London, but I’ve convinced her to stay, so long as I hire a medium to first talk with the ghost and then get rid of her.”
“Well, ya can’t just rid a place of ghosts,” Mrs. Kerr said with an authoritative edge to her voice. “They are where they are because they need to be there.”
“Yes, yes,” Michael agreed. “Unfinished business and all that. Either way, I want the ghost gone before I’m forced to send my wife to Bedlam.”
There was a moment of silence before Mrs. Kerr finally spoke. “I do know of a woman, milord,” she said, her voice sounding resigned. “You’ll find her on the other side of Inverness, just outside of town. Her name is Madam Rosa, and she’s well known in these parts. I’ve no doubt she’ll…get the job done.”
Michael finished writing the medium’s name and instructions on where to find her, grateful that it wouldn’t be too difficult. When he looked up to dismiss Mrs. Kerr, she was no longer there.
Twenty-Eight
“Are you sure this is the place?” Beth asked as the carriage pulled up to a small cottage.
Ivy grew up every wall and a white picket fence enclosed a lovely little garden. It certainly didn't look like somewhere a medium might live. Beth had half expected to find a dilapidated little shack with garlic cloves hanging on the front door.
“Caoin House,” Michael said. “That's what the sign says.”
Beth nodded her head and then flipped the latch to open the door. “Let's go, then, shall we?”
They alighted the carriage and walked through the gate, then walked quietly to the front door. Michael knocked and they waited.
Silence.
“Perhaps she is not home,” he suggested.
“No, no, she must be!” Beth exclaimed, disappointment settling in her belly. They'd come all this way; she just had to be there.
“It's all right, darling,” Michael soothed. “We'll have some lunch in the city and set up our lodgings for the night. I'm sure she'll be here by the time we return.”
Beth blinked up at her husband. “Lodgings? You mean we're not going home tonight?”
He gave her a satisfied grin and pulled her close. She reveled in the feel of his arms around her, of the smell of his cologne, and of the fact that he'd planned a surprise for her. A night in a cozy inn, without a visit from the ghost, would be most welcome.
“It's a long ride back home, and in your current condition...”
“Oh, hush!” Beth said, giggling as she delivered a playful smack to his chest.
He clasped her hand in his and tightened his other arm around her back, before lowering his lips to hers. Beth melted into the kiss, losing herself to the tender play of his tongue.
“Do you make a habit of knocking on people's doors and then using their stoop for your own hedonistic ways?”
Beth squeezed her husband's hand tight as they both stilled and slowly pulled away. Mortification began in her toes and inched it's way up, until her cheeks were aflame. She wasn't sure she'd ever been so embarrassed in her life.
They turned to face the woman, assumedly Madam Rosa, but she had already disappeared inside the house.
“Come in,” she urged, her voice far away now.
Michael, his cheeks aflame as well, gestured for Beth to go first. She gave a slight twitch of her head and moved behind him to push him through the door. He resisted, like a cat might resist a bath, and silently evaded her by maneuvering to the side and moving behind her. This behavior might have continued all day, but Madam Rosa put a stop to it.
“I haven't that much time,” she called, and Beth began to wonder what other appointments a medium might have in a day: talking to spirits, predicting someone's future, analyzing someone's past...it all sounded very exhausting, so Beth decided to be grown up about the whole thing. The woman was probably very busy.
She marched into the foyer and followed the sounds of clanking china until she found the parlor. Madam Rosa was setting out tea service. Three slices of cake had already been cut and placed on the table in the middle of the sitting area. Beth had expected they'd convene over a crystal ball, but she liked this much better.
“I was expecting you...please have a seat.” She indicated the sofa across from her and then placed the teacups next to the slices of cake.
Beth and Michael settled in and began to eat at the woman's urging. Madam Rosa took a few bites of cake and a sip of her tea before finally saying something.
“I was wondering when I would receive a visit from the two of you,” she began.
“How did you know we would come?” Beth wondered.
The woman gave her a placating smile. “I know a lot, my dear. But mostly I knew because your home is renowned for its other-worldly activity. The name alone says a great deal.”
Michael cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably beside her. When she turned to him, he appeared to be trying to send a silent message to the medium.
Madam Rosa gave an amused smile. “It appears your husband doesn't want you to know the meaning of your home's name.”
Beth gave Michael an incredulous look. “You mean you know what it means?” She couldn't quite believe he'd been keeping it from her, even after she'd asked him about it.
“I just didn't want to frighten you any more than you already were,” he confessed.
“Ah,” came Madam Rosa's voice and they both turned to her. “But you forget, my lord, that knowledge can be empowering. Perhaps knowing that your house is indeed named Ghost House might bring some comfort to your wife.”
Beth's mouth dropped open at this news. Ghost House? Good Lord, he'd brought her to a haunted home! A home he knew was haunted and he'd chosen not to tell her.
“Your parents came to me when you were just a boy, Lord Michael,” Madam Rosa continued as Beth grappled with her newfound knowledge. “Your mother was convinced, much like your wife, that she was being haunted. Your father was eager to exorcise the house, so that your time in Scotland might be peaceful.”
“And what happened?” Michael asked.
The medium stayed silent for a moment before finally admitting, “It couldn't be done.”
“That's why we stopped coming to Scotland, isn't it?”
“That I don't know,” Madam Rosa said. “You would have to ask your parents about that.”
“You say it can't be done,” Beth finally piped up, now she'd regained her tongue. “Do you mean to say we are stuck with the ghost?”
“I mean to say that I will do all that is in my power to help you, but I cannot make promises, milady. Spirits have a will of their own, and if they have unfinished business...”
“They'll stay until it's done,” Beth finished.
***
Michael listened intently as Beth described every one of her ghostly encounters. He felt something like a cad for never having asked her about them himself. In truth, her stories didn't sound made up. How could one invent such horrifying things? And why? Beth was prone to flights of fancy, but she wasn't so harebrained to make up these tall tales.
Perhaps he'd been too quick to judge. Too quick to dismiss her concerns. But he was here now, wasn't he? That had to count for something.
Instinctively, he reached over and took her hand. Her fingers were cold, so he held them tightly in his own. She squeezed back and Michael took it as a sign of her gratitude. It couldn't be easy to recount these stories.
“So, tell me, milady. What do you want me to do for you?” Madam Rosa asked as Beth came to the end of her story.
Beth paused a moment to think before answering. “I would like to know who she is. Her purpose for being in the house, perhaps. I would like to help her finish he
r unfinished business, if that's possible.”
“My wife wants to have a séance, Madam Rosa,” Michael finally said.
The woman stacked the tea and cake dishes and placed them back on the cart. Then she sat silently for a moment. “I will do this séance, Lady Wetherby, but you must understand the ramifications of such a ceremony.”
Beth leaned forward slightly. Michael kept a firm hold of her hand.
“It's an emotional thing, a séance. You may learn things that are better not known. You must decide if you are both prepared for such an event.”
“I am!” Beth told her. “I've given it much thought. I need to know who she is, Madam Rosa.”
Michael fought the urge to warn her further. He had a feeling this wasn't a battle he could ever win. Besides, they were here, and it would be a great disappointment to not use the woman's services now.
“It is three weeks until the next full moon. This is when we will conduct the séance.”
“Three weeks?” Michael interrupted. “Can't we do it any sooner than that?”
“No.” The woman leveled him with a serious stare. “The full moon promotes spirit activity, and one needs all the help they can get, especially in such a...difficult environment.”
Beth looked at him, her eyes wary. Clearly she was terrified of three more weeks living with the ghost. He squeezed her hand again and said with his eyes what he couldn't say aloud: that he would protect her and do his best to keep her safe from ghostly encounters. He would have added that she could help him by not wandering about the west wing in the middle of the night, but he wasn't sure he could convey that with just a look.
“We will need at least one more person for the séance. Mr. and Mrs. Kerr should be present as they've been in the house nearly all their lives. Have you any family at Dunbocan?”
Beth nodded. “My brother, though I don't know if he will be here by the time we hold the séance.”
Madam Rosa gave a little smile, as if she knew something the rest of them didn't. “He'll be there,” she said. “Make sure he is present as well.”
The medium stood then, and Michael and Beth followed suit. Michael put his hand to the small of Beth’s back as they made their way to the front door of the small cottage.
Before they left though, Michael posed one more question to the woman. “Is there anything we can do until the séance to...”
“Protect her from her dreams?” she finished for him. “Wait here.”
She disappeared into another room off the hallway. Michael turned to his wife and pulled her into his arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He pulled back a bit so he could look into her terrified blue eyes. “It's the least I could do after the way I've been. I'm sorry I didn't believe you before. It's all a little fantastical, you know?”
“I know.” She burrowed into his chest and he kissed her forehead, but they jumped apart as Madam Rosa burst into the hallway.
“Now,” she said as she approached, carrying three small bags. “This one—” she held up the first bag, which was tied at the top with a yellow ribbon “—is a tea to be drunk before bed. This—” she held out the second bag, tied with a blue ribbon “—is for your bath water. You must take a bath in this every evening. And finally—” the last bag she held up bore a crimson ribbon “—you will rub this onto the outside of your bedchamber door once you are in for the evening. You must not leave once you have done this. And you must be careful not to confuse the potions. Rue can be poisonous if you ingest too much.”
Beth nodded as Michael took the three bags from Madam Rosa. They thanked her for her time and her help, and then left the cottage.
Twenty-Nine
“Oh, Michael, this is charming!” Beth exclaimed as she crossed the threshold into their room at the inn.
Their bags, which Michael had apparently ordered Bonnie to pack for her, had already been delivered while they were eating dinner, and a fire roared in the fireplace. The walls were painted with yellow and white stripes, and dark pink roses accented the pale motif. It was incredibly feminine and made Beth want to squeal with joy. She'd never seen an inn room quite like it.
“They call it the Rose Suite,” Michael told her as he leaned against the threshold. “It's typically reserved for newly married couples, so I may have fibbed a bit to secure it.”
Beth smiled wide at him, feeling her heart expand with love and gratitude. If she'd ever harbored any doubts about whether or not she'd married the right twin, she certainly didn't now.
“Oh, Michael, it's beautiful,” she said, her voice low as she sauntered across the room to him. Without a word, she stood up on her tiptoes, grabbed him around the neck and pulled his lips to hers.
He tasted like the wine they'd had at dinner. His cologne had worn off, so now he smelled distinctly like Michael. Beth's senses were aroused at once, and she pressed her body into his, thrilling when he clasped her tightly behind her back.
They stayed that way in the doorway until they heard someone coming, then Michael swiftly broke the kiss and ushered her inside the room. Beth could hardly breathe; she was so overwhelmed by his tender and passionate assault on her lips. She wanted more.
When he turned around, Beth pushed him up against the door and attempted another kiss. But Michael pulled back with a little laugh.
“Patience, my dear,” he advised. “We have all night. But first, I have something for you.”
“For me?” she asked.
“Of course for you. Now go sit down on the bed while I retrieve it from my bag.”
She did as she was told and watched while Michael rummaged around in the large carpetbag for her present. The heels of her feet drummed steadily against the baseboard of the bed as she anticipated the surprise.
Finally, Michael procured a small package tied with a pink ribbon and handed to her.
“I meant to give this as a wedding present, but, well...”
Beth gave him a sheepish smile and took the present. Carefully, she untied the ribbon and then unwrapped the paper to reveal a mound of white gauze and lace. She stared at it, uncomprehending. He'd bought her a nightrail. A nightrail that one could see straight through. She’s been nude before him on several occasions now, so she couldn’t understand why her heartbeat sped at the thought of donning this gown for him.
“Don't you like it?” Michael asked, when she'd apparently been silent too long.
Beth gulped. “I-I...” She felt her cheeks grow warm, along with the rest of her; namely the now-moist spot between her legs. “Should I...put it on?”
Michael smiled and stepped aside for her. Beth stood and made her way to the washroom, grateful she didn't have to change her clothes in front of Michael. She would need a moment to gather her courage to walk out in this particular garment. On second thought...
“Bonnie didn't happen to send my robe, did she?”
“Oh.” Michael's eyes widened at her suggestion. “Well, I suppose she may have. I can—”
“I'm chilly!” Beth exclaimed, not wanting her husband to think she didn't love the gift. “And the gown, well...it's lovely, really, but there's not much to it.”
Silently, Michael dug into the carpetbag and pulled out his own robe. “I won't be needing it,” he said with a roguish grin.
Beth took the robe and slipped into the washroom, trying to hide her excitement for what was to come. But as she donned the scandalous gown, which she had to admit made her feel quite beautiful, her mind wandered to Dunbocan and her brother. Was it safe to leave him there with Bonnie alone and unchaperoned?
Thoughts of the two of them niggled at her and by the time she emerged from the washroom, she wasn't so sure staying the night would be a good idea.
***
Michael looked up as his wife appeared in the doorway from the washroom. She'd donned the nightrail, but it remained covered by his silk robe. He could smell her alluring perfume from his position on the bed and her hair tumbled about her shoulders in
a cascade of golden waves. Unfortunately, her freshly scrubbed face bore an awful scowl.
“Do you think they’ll keep to themselves, Michael?”
“You mean your brother and Bonnie? Of course they will, dearest,” he assured her. “Your brother’s been warned and Bonnie is far too smart to be taken in by a rake such as him.”
“Do you think it was a wise idea to leave them there...alone?”
With a sigh, he rolled off the bed and crossed the room to stand before her. “Beth, my love—”
“Perhaps we should go back. I mean, this is lovely and all, and Lord knows I need a night without the ghost, but I can't help feeling that...”
“It's far too late to head back now, Beth.”
“But—”
“Shhh...” He ran his fingers through her hair until he cupped the back of her head. Slowly, he drew her to him and clamped his lips over hers. She melted into him and returned the kiss...for a moment anyhow.
“But what if something happens?”
“It's not our responsibility,” Michael replied, his words muffled as he continued to feast on her lips.
“This really is serious, Michael!” she said, pulling clean away from him. “What if they...?”
“Go on. What if they what?”
Beth’s cheeks colored a delightful shade of pink. “You know...what if they...um...”
“Play whist?” he suggested as he plopped back down on the bed. He held his booted foot up as an invitation for her assistance.
Exasperated, she crossed the room and straddled his leg. “Don’t be difficult. You know very well what I mean.”
“Ah, of course. You’re worried they’ll read aloud to one another into the wee hours of the morning, depriving themselves of valuable sleep.”
Beth turned around and glared daggers at him before she yanked the boot from his foot. Michael gave her his most impish of grins.
“Perhaps he will serenade her until she falls into a dreamless and innocent sleep?”
She pulled the other boot off and threw it to the ground in a huff before trying to escape to the washroom. Michael grabbed her by his robe and halted her progress.
Bedeviled Bride (Regency Historical Romance) Page 17
