Chapter Six

D ear God, I'm nearly three sheets to the wind over this woman, and I have only just met her a couple of hours ago.

From atop the mantel, a slightly battered carriage-style clock chimed the eleven o'clock hour. Christian both reveled in celebration and silently berated himself as he led the way to the second floor of Ivy Cottage. What sort of a nodcock told a woman he didn't know that he was a duke and that he believed in true love? Perhaps it didn't matter, for she'd looked at him with wonder and a matching desire.

Beyond that, he couldn't explain it, but he knew, deep down in his soul, that this woman was the one for him. From what he'd remembered of how his parents' romance started, there had been a spark from that first meeting, and then by the end of the ball, his father had asked for his mother's hand. The rest was quite the storybook romance, only ending when his father had died a few years back. As for his mother, well, she lived at one of his country estates, content to live out the last of her life in simplicity and ease, doing whatever struck her fancy until she could rejoin Christian's father in eternal joy.

There were worse things to believe in.

"Do you think this means there is truly a ghost?" Trepidation rang in Emmaline's voice as she clung to his hand up the stairs. "Who else would make all that noise? I have lived here for a fortnight and have never heard such things before."

The thought of her in that bed alone, perhaps dreaming of her fictional duke, had interest surging into his shaft. He shoved that image from his mind, but before they could begin a search of the three rooms again, another thud sounded, and this time from above their heads.

"The attic," he whispered. "How do we access it?"

"Here." She led him to a slim door at the end of the narrow corridor. "There is another set of stairs, but it is a tight fit and quite dark." When her hand shook, those trembles transferred to him. "Do you wish for a lighted candle?"

"Yes, and quickly." As quietly as he could, he opened the door while Emmaline dashed into her bedchamber. Seconds later, she returned bearing a candle in a brass holder. Shadows danced on the wall from the guttering flame, and she looked like a wraith herself in her ivory-hued shift and petticoat. "Thank you," he said as he took the candleholder from her. The mystery of the unknown sent prickles along his bare chest, but he refused to give into a shiver.

Then, for better or for worse, he mounted the stairs.

"Be careful, Christian," she whispered, and the sound of his given name in her voice tightened his chest, for it was the sweetest music. "If there is a ghost up here and it touches me, I shall faint."

That tugged a grin from him. "I shall keep any otherworldly beings from bedeviling you." And it would be his honor if she granted him that privilege for the rest of his life. Once in the attic, the candle flame cast weird shadows on the walls and the sloped ceiling. A jumble of items filled the space—trunks, packing crates, shapeless lumps of bags, an ornate birdcage, and far more things he couldn't quite see. "It seems straightforward. Perhaps something merely fell due to the wind outside sneaking in through faulty thatching or crumbling plaster between the brickwork."

"Dear God." Shock reverberated in her voice, and she tapped on his back. "Look!"

When he followed her pointing finger, a child went through his person. "What the devil is that?" Holding the candle aloft, he peered into the darkness just at the edge of the circle of light.

If he wasn't seeing the image with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it. Hovering in the air in a corner of the attic space was a loose, shapeless, filmy mass. As he stared, the shape shifted slightly and took on the ragged form of a woman in trailing skirts and flowing hair. There was no face to speak of and the apparition didn't say anything, but the fact she was there, floating in the air, stuck in the attic had gooseflesh rising on his skin and fascinated horror playing up and down his spine.

Not knowing what else to do, he forced a swallow into his suddenly dry throat. "What do you want?" he asked of the ghost, for that could only be what this being was.

There was no answer.

The heat from Emmaline's fingers as she wrapped a hand about his arm kept him grounded and oddly calm. "Do you want us to leave this cottage?"

The only answer this time was the vague shaking of a head, but then, it could just be a trick of the eyes and dim light.

He glanced at her before giving the ghost the remainder of his attention. "There is an hour left of All Hallow's Eve. Perhaps it is you who wishes to be released from the attic. Is that what you want? Is that why you called our attention here?"

This time there was a nod, or at least he assumed it was a nod.

Beside him, Emmaline sucked in a breath. "She's been trapped here, which means she must be a relative of yours."

"Stranger things have happened, I suppose." After a glance around the shadowy space, he rested his gaze on a small window. He handed the candle to her. "Come with me." Trying to ignore the spirit as well as the chill in the air, Christian picked his way between the clutter of the attic until he'd reached the window. "Let us hope this won't be jammed."

While she held the candle aloft, he manipulated the rusted clasp. Upon first shove, the window panel didn't budge, but on the second attempt, it swung open. Immediately, wind-driven rain blew onto his form and brought with it a different sort of chill in the air. The candle flame guttered wildly.

He turned around and regarded the ghostly apparition. "You are free. Go forth into the world and find peace." And for the love of God, please don't return here.

For the space of a few heartbeats, nothing happened. Then the floating, morphing mass slowly made its way through the air toward him and the window. He stood his ground, unwilling to show fear in front of Emmaline, but as the ghost came closer and closer, his nerve wavered and he hastened to her side, slipped an arm about her waist simply for the tactile feel of having another human nearby.

Seconds later, the transparent entity glided past him, went somehow through him and left an intense cold sensation behind. The passage of the ghost blew out the candle flame, plunging the attic into inky shadows. Then it slipped out the open window and into the darkened, rainy night beyond.

After giving into a shiver, Christian quickly pulled the window panel closed and clicked the lock into place. "At least she is free."

"We must leave this attic. It makes me far too fearful to remain." That emotion quaked in her voice as she reached for his hand.

"Agreed." Grasping her fingers, he ushered her over the cluttered floor and then down the set of narrow stairs. Once he'd closed the door leading to the attic, he breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't even know what to say about what we just witnessed."

"Neither do I." With a half-stifled cry, Emmaline came close to him, and he immediately enclosed her into the shelter of his arms. The candle holder tumbled to the floor. "While that experience was odd, it was also miraculous. However, that doesn't mean I wish to repeat it." She slipped her arms about his middle and gazed up at him, for she was at least half a foot shorter than him. "I agree there is a connection between us, and I would like a relationship with you, because I like you and am intrigued by you, not because I am frightened of being alone or from a ghost."

Did she just proposition him? He chuckled, for she was a constant surprise and a delight. "I agree as well, only if you don't tell anyone I am rather terrified that this cottage is haunted." Daring much, he claimed her lips with his, and spent the next few moments hoping to kiss her senseless. When he allowed them both breath, he added, "You see, I'd wanted this place for our first love nest."

Was that too shocking of a confession?

"First?" Shock echoed in her voice.

"Oh, yes." He nodded and slowly walked her backward toward the bedchamber she'd claimed for her own. "I have properties in many places all over England, and I am still of a mind to travel once I attend to some of the more pressing responsibilities to my title." The burgeoning hope in her eyes he detected as they entered the room sent excitement coursing down his spine. "In all of that, I need a companion, a partner…" He swallowed down his own fears. "A wife."

"What?" Emmaline gasped. She pulled slightly out of his arms. "Are you asking me to marry you?"

"I am." And he couldn't help but grin, for the idea was insane.

"We scarcely know each other, have only just met a handful of hours ago." She retreated before him as he prowled toward her.

Christian couldn't help his chuckle. It would be such fun to show her the world and teach her everything about the carnal world as well. "It's true, but sometimes a man just knows what is right and meant for him." When the bed prevented more movement from her, he easily tugged her into his embrace again. "Marry me in haste. We shall have as much time as we need to know each other in leisure, anywhere you want, but I don't want to feel trapped—"

"Like the ghost was," she interrupted in a soft voice as tears welled in her eyes.

"Exactly." Cupping her cheek, he caught an escaped tear with the pad of his thumb. "Every year at this time, we will return to Ivy Cottage as a reminder and perhaps a tribute to the ghost who brought us together."

When had he become a man who used such whimsical and flowery words?

"It's a madcap plan."

"Oh, indeed it is."

"Alternately, marrying you makes odd sense and will grant me freedom I've never had before, but you are a duke."

"I am." He couldn't help another grin, for he could almost hear her brain working.

"I am so far beneath you—"

"Hush." After delivering a kiss to her mouth, he repeated the gesture to each cheek and then to her forehead. "You are perfect for me; I can feel it in my soul, and you have my permission to be whatever kind of duchess that makes you comfortable. I have a notion that whatever you do, everyone you encounter will be forever changed in a good way." Again, he kissed her lips. "I merely want you."

"Oh." Wonder glimmered in her rounded eyes. When a gust of wind outside sent a renewed draft into the air, she uttered a squeal and burrowed tighter into his arms.

God, she was adorable. Wanting to move on to more pleasurable things, he tumbled them both onto the bed and the comfortable feather mattress tick. "For what it's worth, I'm beyond excited to potentially have one of the Hasting sisters for my own. I have admired the pluck of your sisters to carve out lives of their own making. You and I shall have such fun together."

Her arms slipped about his shoulders, and she felt all too right beneath him. "Perhaps I shall make up for lost time from locking myself away for the past several years; I shall finally participate in life."

"You will be surprised about how much there is to experience, and I want to share it all with you." Working the ties of her petticoat, he said, "Ah, Emmy, as insane as this sounds, a match between us is everything I have ever wanted."

And then he set about to render them both completely naked, for he would convince her to marry him by the time the clock struck midnight.