Timeless Christmas Romance: Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “Er…”

  “You needn’t bother. I already know the answer. As if it wasn’t despicable enough to cozen me with your stupid tales of ghosts and curses, you drag your poor children out of bed to participate in the charade. Lizzie doesn’t sleepwalk, and if John lacks his customary vigor, it’s because you wake him to drag chains all over the place.”

  “No, Lizzie doesn’t sleepwalk,” he said, “but she enjoys playing ghost to scare off the treasure seekers. We can’t count on the real ghost to make an appearance. It’s an unexpected bonus when she does—as she did tonight.”

  Edwina huffed. “You’ll keep lying until kingdom come, won’t you?”

  “I’m not lying,” Richard said. “As for John, he would be most upset if I didn’t wake him to drag the chains—which I only do when the dog warns me we have intruders. I can’t let Felix roam the grounds anymore because of the attempt to poison him.”

  She turned away, pacing across the room, possessed by agitation. How dare he be so attractive and sound so reasonable?

  “I’ll do what I must to keep the intruders away,” Richard went on. “The house was empty for months, long enough for the news of its vulnerability to spread from village to village. The treasure seekers became so bold that my presence hasn’t entirely deterred them—hence the Yorkshire men who died in the collapse of the tower not long ago.”

  She whirled, glad to have something else to rage about. “You don’t seriously believe the ghost caused that.”

  He spread his hands in a lazy shrug which rippled the muscles of his chest. “It was very old, so perhaps they brought it upon themselves by undermining the foundation. How should I know? It frightened off most of the intruders, but braver ones show up from time to time.”

  “Stop trying to sound logical,” she muttered, utterly unsure what to do, her fears crowding her again. She couldn’t stay; she couldn’t leave the children to this madman; John wasn’t really in any danger; all she wanted was a home, a haven, a safe place…

  “What I’m saying is logical,” Richard said. “I don’t want anyone to come to harm because of the ghost, and if anyone finds the treasure, it had best be me.”

  She clenched her fists. She squeezed her eyes shut, because as long as she couldn’t see his beloved, face, his powerful chest, she could fight her longings and figure out what she should do. But she couldn’t cut out his firm voice without childishly putting her hands over her ears.

  “Doesn’t that make sense?” he asked.

  “You can make anything sound rational and believable,” she cried. “You were a liar back then and you’re still a liar now.” She headed for the door.

  ~ * ~

  The longing which had built up in him since her arrival burst into cold fury. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me,” she said. “You lied to me twelve years ago and you’re still lying. It makes me sick.” She wrenched open the door.

  “Come back here,” he said and yanked her roughly into the bedchamber. He shut the door again and hemmed her in against it. She smelled of sleep and woman, and his cock responded in spite of his rage—or maybe because of it. “I’ve had enough of your accusations, Edwina. You may have some justification for thinking the ghost story is untrue, but none—none at all—for saying I lied to you in the past.”

  She pushed at him, but he didn’t budge. “You said you loved me,” she snarled. “You said that you didn’t need my inheritance. That you could support a wife in comfort. Lies, every single one of them.” She pushed again, and when he didn’t move, she tried to duck under his arm, but he blocked her easily. “Let me go, damn you!”

  “Not until we’ve had this out.” He swallowed; this proximity was torture. He didn’t want to talk, not with her lips so close to his and her bosom heaving and her nakedness under the nightdress firing his imagination and sending the blood surging to his cock. “Every word of that was true. No, I wasn’t rich—I’m definitely better off now—but I was well able to support you without your damned money.” He forced the anger from his voice, the passion from his heart. Yes, he wanted to rip off that nightdress, throw her onto the bed, and plow into her, but it had nothing to do with love, not anymore. He just needed a woman and needed one now.

  He wasn’t going to get one. He must make himself sound light-hearted, uncaring, when he spoke of his feelings for her. “And I was madly in love with you―at the time.”

  For a long moment she was silent. Perhaps those words of love affected her, too. “And yet, you didn’t meet me at our rendezvous―because you’d been thrown into the Fleet.”

  “For a debt that wasn’t mine,” he said. “It was a mistake. A clerk’s error.”

  “Oh, what nonsense!” she cried, trying to escape again, and again he prevented her.

  “It’s not nonsense. It’s the truth. It took a few months to sort it out, but I did so.”

  “I don’t believe it. You needed the expectation of my inheritance to keep you out of prison. That’s why you were eager to elope.”

  According to his recollection, she’d been the one to suggest a runaway marriage. He opened his mouth to say so, but she put her fingers in her ears. “You can prevent me from leaving this room, but you can’t make me listen to your lies.”

  How childish could she get? The patter of footsteps reached him but not her, because she’d covered her ears. He stood away, and she opened the door and plunged into the hall, almost colliding with Lizzie.

  Lizzie squeaked and came to a halt. With difficulty, Edwina got hold of herself. He hadn’t the slightest doubt that she was red as a raspberry. He would be embarrassed too, if he weren’t so furious. He could put up with being thrown over for a richer man, but being called a liar—no.

  “Still awake, love?” he asked his gaping daughter. “Mrs. White realized we were playing ghosts and came to berate me for deceiving her.”

  Lizzie’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Mrs. White.”

  “Nonsense,” Edwina said with impressive composure. “I was scolding your father, not you. Your acting skills are excellent.” As are Edwina’s, Richard thought irritably.

  Now Lizzie grinned. “I’m glad you found out. I didn’t like deceiving you, but we can’t count on the ghost to frighten the treasure hunters away.”

  “I suppose not,” Edwina said stiffly.

  “But isn’t it frightfully exciting when she does, like tonight?” Lizzie said. “You weren’t afraid, were you?”

  “Definitely not,” Edwina said.

  “You’re not like the other governesses,” Lizzie said. “Papa says you have spirit.”

  “He does?” Edwina sounded surprised, and he wished he hadn’t said any such thing to Lizzie, for Edwina might conclude that he still cared for her.

  “If you’d like, you can play the ghost one night,” Lizzie said.

  Edwina merely stood there with her mouth agape, so Richard answered for her. “What a good idea, Lizzie. Mrs. White believes wakeful nights are bad for children, so perhaps she can take over sometimes.”

  “I’ll have to show her how first,” Lizzie said. “The pupil teaching the governess—what fun!”

  ~ * ~

  Edwina retired to her bedchamber, whilst Richard dealt with whatever reason his daughter had come to his room. She crawled into her now-cold bed and huddled under the covers, shivering.

  What if what he’d just told her about that miserable time twelve years ago was true?

  She’d acted like a big baby at the end, putting her fingers in her ears as if she were unable to deal with the unpleasant truths of life.

  Except that this particular unpleasant truth might not be true at all, and the lies of years ago―not lies.

  A clerk’s error… It was hard to believe but certainly possible, and Papa might have been wrong in thinking Richard a fortune hunter. He’d never mentioned anything about debt, merely that Richard would doubtless like to double his fortune by marrying her, and therefore she should be cautious and bide her time.


  She leapt out of bed, lit a candle, and hurried into the cold, dark passageway. She tapped on Richard’s door.

  “What is it, Lizzie?” He sounded crotchety, but at least he was still awake.

  “It’s not Lizzie,” she said. “It’s I.” Pause. “Edwina.”

  A silence, followed by a growl. “What the devil do you want now?”

  “To talk to you.”

  “We have nothing to discuss that can’t wait until morning.”

  “Richard, it’s important!” He wasn’t going to let her in. Oh, damn! By letting her temper fly, she’d lost whatever headway she’d made with him since she had arrived.

  “The only possible subject of importance between you and me is the education of my children. I repeat, it can wait until morning.”

  Evidently she had offended him beyond bearing. Oh, how she rued her too-ready tongue.

  She grasped for something, anything. The only thing he cared about. “It’s—it’s about the ghost.”

  He made a rude noise. “Try again, Edwina. Or rather, don’t bother. I fell for you once, but now I’m immune to your wiles. I’m going to sleep.”

  He must think she had come in hope of seducing him! Shamefully, some part of her wished she could do exactly that. “I’m serious, Richard. The ghost’s voice woke me.”

  “Just now?” He laughed without humor. “And you call me a liar. You’ve barely had time to fall asleep, much less be wakened by a ghost.”

  “No, no, it happened earlier. In the excitement about the intruders, I forgot. She woke me last night, too.”

  He opened the door.

  ~ * ~

  The devious woman knew exactly how to get Richard’s attention. She was almost certainly lying—but what if she wasn’t?

  She stared up at him, wide-eyed. Her candle wavered. “It’s freezing out here.”

  “What a pity,” he drawled, blocking the doorway. “Earlier today, you told me you didn’t wake to any ghostly voices last night. Why the sudden change in your story?”

  Her teeth began to chatter. “When you f-first asked me, I had forgotten about it, and then I didn’t want to t-tell you, because I didn’t know whether I believed in the ghost or not. I thought I would look ridiculous.”

  “And now you look like a liar. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “Richard, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that about you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t, but it’s too late to take it back.” Thank God, because his foolish heart had started yearning for her again. Fortunately, his cock seemed to have retired for the night.

  “It’s not too late! I want to apologize, and—and explain.”

  He hardened his heart. “I’m not interested in your explanation. Just tell me what the ghost supposedly said to you.”

  “She wanted me to come with her.”

  He let out a derisive puff of air. “To do what?”

  “To save someone,” Edwina said. “She didn’t say whom.”

  “You can come up with a better lie than that, Edwina.”

  “It’s not a lie. That’s all she said,” Edwina insisted in a quavering voice which sounded sincere, but probably just because she was shivering. “I don’t know if she is still trying to save her own son, or if she wants me to help save yours.”

  He couldn’t hide his disgust. “Why not make the lie more convincing by saying that tonight she specified that she meant my John?”

  “I swear it’s not a lie.” Edwina’s teeth chattered even more, but he felt no urge to invite her into the relative warmth of his bedchamber. “T-tonight she kept trying to tell me something in my dream, but I couldn’t hear her properly. It was something urgent.” She paused, her frown quite convincingly desperate. What an actress, indeed. “I can’t remember her exact words. And then she woke me with a dreadful shriek.”

  The ghost’s shriek might well have woken Edwina, but he didn’t believe the rest. “We all heard that shriek, but I doubt she was talking to you at the time.”

  “Not that shriek,” Edwina said. “It was―”

  He interrupted her. “Good night.” He shut the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Miserably, Edwina returned to bed.

  She didn’t blame him for rejecting her so summarily. Not only had she offended him, but what of her actions upon hearing he’d been thrown into prison years ago? It didn’t say much about her love for him that she’d assumed he’d lied and deceived her without even considering other possibilities. She’d been as lacking in faith as she’d believed him to be.

  Once again she huddled into a shivering ball, refusing to think about that for now. The current situation was all she could deal with at the moment. Not the part about how her heart had sped up and she’d almost lost her breath when he loomed over her, his mouth so close, his male aroma surrounding her.

  Nor the fact that the second time he’d opened the door to her, he had covered himself again—and treated her as if she’d come to his room to seduce him like a calculating little whore. A decent man shouldn’t tup the governess, but if he did, he would feel obliged to marry her, to give her the safety and security she longed for. She didn’t blame him for coming to such a horrid conclusion.

  She blushed for shame. As usual, she should have thought before opening her mouth. Yes, Richard’s children had played the ghost, but he hadn’t primed Lizzie to come to his room to invite Edwina to join in future charades; he’d had no chance to do so. Her talk of the unreliable ghost and driving the treasure hunters away had been entirely open and forthright—nothing feigned. Lizzie, like the men outside, had seen and heard the ghost tonight. And John had too, if that was what he’d meant about having help. But did Richard truly believe in the ghost as well?

  If those lies from years ago weren’t lies, then she had no reason to disbelieve anything he said now.

  Except that ghosts didn’t exist, and curses weren’t real….

  ~ * ~

  Slap!

  Edwina scrambled up, cringing against the headboard. Her face stung. This time the presence in the room was almost palpable, and the voice cried inside her mind.

  You ruined everything! He loved you. He would have made you the new mistress of the Grange… The voice died away on a string of bitter sobs.

  Edwina got a hold of herself. She had overslept; a grey light told her the winter dawn was about to break. “You…you think he would have married me?” she whispered, and immediately sensed such fury that she put up her hands to fend off another slap. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  What use is sorry? the voice scoffed. Do you know how hard it is to make you mortals see and hear me?

  “I’m listening now,” Edwina said, but the presence—the ghost—was gone.

  She got out of bed, a hand to her still-stinging cheek, and stared into the dim room. Time to admit it to herself: she was as much in love with Richard as she’d been twelve years earlier. Far worse, she had just ruined her chances of rekindling that same love in him.

  It was bad enough to accuse him of lying, but she’d couldn’t have put the cap on it more effectively than by bringing up the subject of the ghost and revealing her own lie—and yet, she’d been telling the truth. It seemed the ghost truly wanted to save John, to end the curse, perhaps to pass at last to wherever spirits went after death.

  Really, nothing had changed since yesterday, when she’d decided John’s predicament was far more important than her own. The only difference was that now she’d had a glimpse of what might have been if only she’d shown some maturity, a decent measure of self-control.

  Richard didn’t love her anymore—couldn’t possibly, and she could hardly blame him—but he’d told Lizzie she had spirit.

  She might be faithless, she might jump to conclusions and burn bridges, but yes, she did have spirit. “Very well, Lady Ballister,” she said to the empty room. “I will do everything I can.”

  Now that she’d ruined her chances of reconciliation with Richard, she must find the n
ecklace, after which he would get himself a wife. At which point, Edwina would have to leave the Grange. She couldn’t live in the same house with Richard Ballister and a woman who was his wife.

  She got out of bed, washed, and dressed herself in her usual drab gown. She brushed her hair tightly back from her face. Her right cheek was red from the slap; she might well develop a bruise there. Who would have thought a ghost could cause one?

  She shook herself. Until a few hours ago, she hadn’t believed in ghosts at all.

  She made her way slowly to the kitchen, not at all looking forward to meeting Richard, but he wasn’t there. She let out a sigh of relief. Suddenly she was ravenous, perhaps in anticipation of a future where she would once again have to count her pennies. She poured herself some coffee and sat across from Lizzie, who was buttering a piece of toast. On the table before them a platter of ham and a large hunk of very ripe cheese beckoned. She helped herself to several slivers of ham, sliced some cheese, and buttered two pieces of toast. “What a wonderful breakfast. Thank you, Mrs. Cropper.”

  “You’re welcome, ma’am,” the cook said. “Looks like you have more appetite than Sir Richard this morning. He pecked at his food.”

  “Papa is cranky today,” Lizzie said, and Edwina knew a guilty pang for his bad mood, which must be at least partly her fault. She piled ham and cheese on the bread and took a bite.

  “Papa and John are already going over the next three rooms,” Lizzie said, spreading marmalade on her toast. “What happened to your cheek?”

  Hurriedly Edwina took another bite, giving herself time to think. Should she tell Lizzie the truth or make up a convincing lie? Richard would be angry―angrier, rather―if he thought she was lying to his daughter.

  She would have to risk that. This incredible situation called for complete frankness. She swallowed. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think the ghost slapped me awake this morning.”

  “That’s a new one,” Mrs. Cropper said. “She never did that before.”

  Lizzie’s face fell. “She didn’t tell you to leave, did she?”