The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) (20 page)

“I am Miss White’s betrothed, so if you gentlemen
will excuse us, we are going to dance,” I said, without pulling my
eyes away from Guinevere’s face. I took Guinevere’s hand in mine
and held it firmly. She gave the men a tight smile as I led her
away. She tried to pull her hand away, but I would not release
her.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded in a harsh
whisper. “Now everyone, including your sister, will know.”

We stopped at the edge of the floor, facing each
other. “I spoke only the truth, though your name remains a mystery
to me. First you are Miss Clark, and now you are Miss White. By
which name should I call you?”

“It does not signify,” she snapped, her shoulders
squaring.

“I would infinitely prefer to call you Mrs.
Martin.”

She pulled on her hand again, taking a step away
from me, but I pulled her back to my side.

“Well, my heart, do you prefer to dance, or shall we
go somewhere to talk?”

“Dancing,” she said quickly.

Seeing her obvious discomfort brought me a small
amount of relief. Inside, I was a mess of insecurity and alarm. She
had escaped me numerous times, but only once had I allowed her of
my own free will to escape. It would not happen again.

God help me, but I loved the woman with everything
inside me. Perhaps it was because we were so similar, though we
fought for opposing sides. Perhaps it was because we were two
people searching for a way to be free from the chains that held us
bound.

As our hands came together in the dance, she was
watching me intently, and I could only stare at her, drinking in
every feature. Though she was the most beautiful woman in the room,
the blonde hair was not to my liking. Her red hair was my
preference, but there was a desire inside me to see her with ebony
hair that was her true coloring. The woman changed hair colors as
often as she changed names. Another reason I loved her. She could
adapt to any situation. She was like the chameleons I had read
about in one of my books; she changed her looks to blend in to her
surroundings. The woman would have made an excellent Phantom, but
that would never happen, even if James Monroe had not demanded that
the Phantoms be dissolved. I wanted her out of danger, not thrust
into the thick of it.

“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.