Read Lord Melvedere's Ghost Online
Authors: Rebecca King
Tags: #romance, #romantic suspense, #thriller, #suspense, #mystery, #historical fiction, #historical romance, #romantic mystery, #historical mystery
Lord Melvedere's Ghost
LORD MELVEDERE’S GHOST
The Star Elite
Book Four
By
Rebecca King
Lord
Melvedere’s Ghost
Rebecca
King
Copyright 2014 by
Rebecca King
Smashwords
Edition
© Rebecca King 2014
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Cecily
rested her head back against the squabs and closed her eyes. The
door slammed with more force than was necessary seconds before the
carriage lurched into motion. She didn’t need to open her eyes to
know that he had taken a seat directly opposite and was now staring
at her, waiting for her to look at him. She could feel his eyes
boring into her but couldn’t bring herself to engage in
conversation.
The
tension rose within the confined space to the point that her palms
began to sweat and she struggled to remain still. Digging deep for
self control, she focused on the exhaustion that weighed heavily on
her shoulders and stubbornly refused to allow any outward show of
emotion. Inside though her stomach was churning with nerves and her
heart was hammering so hard that she was positive he could hear
it.
Her body
rocked and swayed with the wild rocking of the carriage. Her
determination to ignore him almost came unstuck when the heavy
conveyance bounded over one deeper pot-hole in the road making her
bounce heavily on the seat. She was very aware that she had yet to
find out where they were going and knew that she should really
start to ask him questions, preferably before they went too much
further away from the safety of Archie’s protective
company.
Like a
person stumbling through the darkness seeking solace in light, her
thoughts immediately turned toward her elder sister, Portia. She
had no idea where Portia was now, and could only pray to God that
she was safe. Her only comfort was that the man called Archie had
made no attempt to hide his growing affection toward Portia, and
would undoubtedly do whatever he needed to in order to keep her
alive.
Although
Cecily had very little experience with men, she hadn’t been blind
to the careful studying looks Archie sent Portia’s way, or the
protective stance he always took when standing beside her. It had
come as no surprise to watch her sister respond to Archie’s cool
authority and take-charge demeanour, and Cecily knew from pure
instinct alone that it wouldn’t be too long before Archie persuaded
her sister to risk a more daring adventure toward hearth and
home.
A pang
of longing swept through Cecily, and her thoughts instinctively
snapped back to the man sitting opposite, who was still waiting for
her attention and still staring determinedly at her. The urge to
peer through her lashes and see the truth for herself was strong,
but she simply refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that
his close proximity unnerved her. She had no idea what his plan was
and, if she was honest, she was glad to take a moment’s respite
from the bizarre events of the past couple of days.
To say
her life had been turned upside down was an understatement of
mammoth proportions. She had been snatched out of the family home;
well, not exactly snatched, she had walked to the church to arrange
the flowers under orders from her father but, rather than being
able to dutifully carry out her instructions as she ordinarily
would have done, she had found herself in the middle of a strange
battle between French spies, murderous guards and some mysterious
government organisation that seemed intent on protecting both
Portia and Cecily, whether they liked it or not. Now it transpired
that the man who had offered for her hand hadn’t even given her his
real name.
A sigh
escaped her before she could prevent it and she mentally winced,
every sense alerted to the rustling of clothing as he
moved.
“
You will have to talk to me at some point, Cecily,” Jamie
sighed, wondering how long she would be able to hold out. He knew
she was avoiding him. Back at the tavern they had just left she had
averted her gaze whenever he had approached her, and had made no
effort to converse with him, abruptly closing his mangled attempts
at conversation with single word answers that had made him want to
shake her with frustration.
In
essence, he couldn’t really blame her for being wary of him; angry
even. There was so much he needed to explain to her, so much he
wanted her to understand that he didn’t quite know where to start.
Consternation was an unfamiliar emotion to him and right now it was
running rife, throwing his thoughts into turmoil. He had no idea
where to start; how to start; what or how to say what he needed to
without raising her ire. She had already been through enough of an
ordeal already and he needed her to remain strong over the next
couple of days, but he also needed to settle the misunderstandings
between them once and for all.
While he
was confident he was able to keep her alive and out of the French
guards’ clutches, he wasn’t sure how close to hysteria she was. She
had been almost too calm, too much in control in the tavern with
her sister and Archie, and that alarmed him. He had expected her to
be sobbing quietly in the corner of the room on the fringes of
hysteria. Instead, she had sat with quiet dignity on the edge of
the bed, and carefully watched events unfold around her.
God, she
was beautiful. Her long black hair cascaded around her delicate
face and highlighted her natural beauty. Although she was rosier in
the cheeks that were currently fashionable, it gave her a healthy
glow that was simply captivating. In contrast, her sister, Portia,
had a pale porcelain-type complexion that made her appear fragile
and untouchable. He much preferred Cecily’s fresh, natural look. He
didn’t need her to lift her lashes to know that the piercing blue
eyes were simply stunning whether they were brimming with good
humour or were solemn and watchful. Her eyes had haunted him every
day since he had first laid eyes upon her at the Tissington ball
several weeks ago, and he longed to see them again now.
“
I know you are not asleep,” he sighed, glancing down at his
boots. Placed wide apart on the dirty carriage floor, he braced
himself from sliding across the seat as the carriage barrelled
ungraciously along the cart track. “I need to talk to you about
what is going to happen next.”
Cecily listened raptly, but refused to open her eyes. Her
stomach lurched at his words, but she couldn’t bring herself to
lift her lashes. She wanted to cry. Despite everything she had
discussed with Portia, now that she was alone, she suddenly wanted
to be back at home in Tissington, under the dubious and
parsimonious care of her father. Well, if she was really honest she
wouldn’t go
that
far, but she would rather be with Portia and Archie than
sitting in a carriage going heaven knew where with this man. She
hadn’t even known his real name until they had met again in the
tavern.
“
Cecily,” Jamie’s voice dropped several notches in silent
warning. He fought to keep his temper in check and clenched his
fists against the need to shake her. After several moments of
silence, he shook his head and gave up. There was nothing else for
it. He stood up and leaned over her. Bracing his hands on the
squabs on either side of her head, he dropped a single, hard kiss
on her lips and threw himself back down onto the seat opposite
before she could slap him.
His bold
actions got the reaction he wanted, and he sat back with an air of
satisfaction as her eyes popped open in alarm. She turned eyes that
were as cold as ice on him, her face frozen in stern
disapproval.
He
waited for her to lambast him; to warn him off, and screech at him
for taking liberties as soon as they were alone. He was slightly
unnerved by the cold stare she gave him. It annoyed the hell of him
even more when she showed no sign of response other than a single
haughtily quirked brow that made her look pompous and untouchable
all at once. He longed to grab her, kiss her soundly and wipe that
arrogant look off her face but, instead, forced himself to ease
back against the seat and stare challengingly back at
her.
“
Don’t you want to know where we are going?” His rich, slightly
husky tones were driven to a deep rumble by the growing frustration
that thrummed through him. She was unpredictable and aloof; he
wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. He was not a man to back
down from a challenge though and he squared his shoulders
defiantly, prepared to do whatever was necessary to knock down her
walls and get to the woman beneath.
Cecily
shrugged unconcernedly. The truth was that she desperately wanted
to find out where they were heading at such a breakneck pace, but
couldn’t bring herself to lower her guard around this
man.
“
Applemore,” she replied crisply, leaning back against the
squabs and staring at him defiantly. She wished she had kept her
eyes shut to block out the mental image of him that was now
indelibly printed on her mind. Her heart ached with unfulfilled
dreams and forgotten promises, and she didn’t know whether to love
him or hate him.
Of course, she couldn’t really be in love with
him
,
she sternly
reminded herself. They had only talked for a couple of hours at the
Tissington ball, and certainly hadn’t spent enough time together to
seriously consider if affections were engaged sufficiently to
warrant a marriage. She didn’t know what it was about this man that
had engaged her attention so easily, but she had spent most of the
last several weeks thinking about him, and she didn’t like it one
bit.
He was
tall and exceptionally good looking. His dark hair held a hint of
curl that was kept at bay by the unfashionably short cut that
emphasised the startling grey eyes that seemed to bore straight
through you in conversation, and turn a sultry grey when amused.
The broad width of his shoulders, confined as they were in a rather
rough jacket, gave him an almost military bearing that he seemed to
carry naturally. If the government organisation he was in was not
military, then he had at some point in his life been in the army,
of that she had no doubt. Given his current attire, it was
difficult to tell if he was well-bred or not, but the rich,
cultured tone of his voice hinted at a well rounded education
rather than a rough, work-laden youth. The man was an enigma. He
was also a heartbreaker, and she knew first-hand just how callous
he really could be.
She
would be unwise to ever forget that but, nevertheless, somewhere
hidden deep within the tender confines of her heart, she still
ached for the loss of things that might have been. She had no idea
what she was going to do over the next few days. Even sitting and
staring at him hurt. It just didn’t make any sense. She had only
ever talked to him for a couple of hours, with her sister in
attendance all of the time. There was no logical reason for her to
feel such hurt and confusion. The man opposite was a complete
stranger to her, and had to remain that way.
Especially given the startling revelation from Archie that at
the ball in Tissington, Jamie had given his name as Jamie Montford,
Lord Calverton, when in fact his real name is Jamie Calverton, Lord
Melvedere.
Still,
she couldn’t ignore the breadth of his wide chest encased so
lovingly in a crisp, black shirt, or the smouldering eyes that
stared back at her. With eyes that were now so darkly dangerous
they were almost as black as the clothing he wore, he was almost
sinister as he sat opposite. There was a natural air of mystery
around him that left her unsure whether she should gather her wits
about her and jump out of the carriage at the next available
opportunity, or simply follow him meekly until the latest turn of
events played itself out.