Haunted by the Earl's Touch - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,57

realised how little she was wearing. She shielded herself with her hands. ‘Please. Leave.’

‘I think not.’ He strode for the chest at the end of her bed and picked up her robe that Betsy had left there, ready for the morning. He threw it at her. ‘Put this on.’

She caught it against her, but couldn’t seem to move. He huffed out an impatient sigh, came around the bed and threw it around her shoulders, wrapping it around her. ‘‘What the devil is going on here?’

He sounded genuinely perplexed. And perhaps even worried.

He had come through the door. Not from the tunnel. She had locked her door. She stared at the fire irons sitting neatly on the hearth. No longer her alarm, but simply fire irons. Someone had moved them since she had fallen asleep. Betsy? The light of the candle also showed the wall was exactly where it should be. How could she explain her fear without giving away her knowledge of what lay behind the wall?

Her breathing slowed. And although her body continued to tremble, she managed to catch her breath. If only she could think. She shuddered.

‘Was it a nightmare?’ he asked.

A nightmare. That would explain the vision of the ghost. The sensation of falling and yet awaking to find herself on her bed. It didn’t explain the freezing temperature.

His eyes shifted to the window, then shot back to her face. His jaw hardened. He crossed the room, closed the casement and spun around to face her. ‘What is going on here, Miss Wilding? A midnight visitor?’

She stared at him in astonishment and then at the window. ‘Certainly not. Fresh air is healthy.’ So healthy her teeth were aching with the urge to chatter—but she did not remember opening it.

‘Not in the middle of winter,’ he growled. ‘Why do I have the sense you are not telling me the truth?’

‘What reason do I have to lie?’

‘Because you answer a question with a question.’

He was lying, too. There was no earthly way he could have heard her cry out and arrived so quickly unless he was in the tunnel behind the wall.

She tried to keep her gaze away from the chimney. He must not know she was aware of it. He must have entered her room from there, closed it and gone out by the door. That would explain how he had entered when the door was locked. It did not explain the window.

‘Why did you cry out?’

‘I had a bad dream. I was asleep. Something was chasing me. I fell.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought I fell. A long way down. But when I opened my eyes, I was here. And you came through the door.’

She started shaking again. It had all seemed so real. Felt real.

‘Then it was your scream I heard.’

‘I suppose it must have been.’ But she’d heard the scream, too. It had come from somewhere else. Above her head. Hadn’t it?

Or had she screamed in her sleep and frightened him off before he could do whatever it was he had intended? Before he could take drastic action. Before she could disappear in the tunnels below the house. Had he then pretended to burst in to allay her suspicions?

She didn’t dare give voice to her thoughts, in case she was right. Or in case she was wrong. She was just so confused. She pressed her hands together, staring at his face, trying to read his expression.

‘Mary,’ he murmured. Then muttered something under his breath. ‘Miss Wilding. Sit down before you fall.’

When she didn’t move he took her hand and led her to the bed. His large warm hands caught her around the waist and he lifted her easily on to the mattress. He looked down at the tangle of covers at his feet and then back at the window. His mouth tightened.

‘Someone was here,’ he said. His voice harsh. And it wasn’t a question.

She shivered. You, she wanted to say. ‘I saw no one,’ she forced out. She could not let him know what she suspected. Nor could she accuse him without proof. ‘I saw no one. Only...only the White Lady. In my dream.’ It had to be a dream. She did not believe in ghosts. Would not.

He cursed softly, then took one of her hands in his, clearly intending to reason with her. His hands curled around her fingers. He frowned. ‘You really are freezing.’

He crossed to the fire, stirred up the embers and added a few lumps of coal, then came back