Page 70 of Mesmerized

Olivia blushed to her hairline, and Stephen cast a dark look at his friend. “Rafe! The devil take it! Curb your tongue.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Rafe said with a grin, looking uncontrite. “My mama was always shocked at my lack of breeding.”

“Mr. McIntyre has a point,” Great-uncle Bellard said unexpectedly. “There is a correlation, of course, though one hopes you will not proceed to such an ill-fated conclusion.”

Her great-uncle’s words left Olivia speechless. She could not bring herself even to look at Stephen. She hoped he would not think she had told her uncle there was anything between them.

Finally Stephen broke the awkward silence, saying, “Whatever has brought this chain of events upon us, what I would like to know is—how do we end it? I personally do not relish living in a house where spirits are apt to appear at any moment.”

“It would be rather disconcerting,” Rafe agreed with a grin. “You know, I have heard lots of tales about ghosts inhabiting a place, but I’ve never heard that anyone got rid of them.”

“Thank you,” Stephen retorted sarcastically. “You are most reassuring.”

“There is the rite of exorcism,” Great-uncle Bellard suggested.

“I suppose, although I think the vicar might be rather alarmed for my sanity if I suggested it.”

“Does that apply to ghosts?” Olivia asked. “I thought it was for demons and such.”

Stephen shrugged.

“One theory I have heard is that spirits who died a violent death cannot leave the place where the deaths happened because they are seeking something,” Rafe said. “Presumably, if one could provide what they were seeking...”

“But how the devil are we to do that?” Stephen countered. “I haven’t the vaguest notion what they might be seeking. What could be put right? The siege? Their deaths? We can hardly change something that happened seven hundred years ago.”

“Perhaps it is not they who are seeking something. Perhaps it is the evil presence that Livvy sensed,” Bellard suggested. “The presence that made itself known at the séances.”

“I cannot believe we are even talking seriously about such things,” Stephen commented.

Rafe shrugged. “Better than being unprepared.”

The conversation wound down after that, and soon Olivia excused herself and went up to her room, followed quickly by her great-uncle. Stephen and Rafe continued to chat in the study, fortified by cigars and brandy, ignoring the strange events of the day to reminisce about the years they had spent together in Colorado and the characters they had known. It was a good two hours before they made their way upstairs to their beds, and the rest of the house lay in quiet slumber.

Stephen got into bed quickly, dispensing with the services of his valet, and soon fell asleep.

* * *

HE WAS OUTNUMBERED. He was well aware of that. Only the winding, narrow nature of the stairs made it possible for him to keep the others at bay. He was backing up the stairs inch by inch, and at the top of them lay nothing but his eventual death. Still, there was nothing else he could do. His only hope was to protect her. He did not allow himself to think of what would happen when his body fell lifeless, at last, and they were free to break down the heavy wooden door.

All he would think of was keeping her safe.

He could feel her behind him. He felt sure she was facing outward, the small sack of her possessions in one hand, her dagger ready in the other. She had never lacked for courage; that was much of what he loved about her. It had taken courage to love him, knowing she was risking dishonor and even death should Sir Raymond find out. It had taken even more courage to be willing to leave all that she knew, the life of relative ease and comfort that was hers as lady of the castle, but that was what she had been ready to do. They had waited only for the opportunity presented by Sir Raymond leaving the castle to visit his overlord. She had packed what little she would take, waiting for a few days to pass so that Sir Raymond would have reached his destination. They had planned to sneak out of the castle tonight, running for their lives and their freedom.

But then Surton’s men had appeared out of nowhere, and some traitor within had opened the gates to them, letting the enemy flood in. And now, instead of running to a new life, they were trapped in the castle. Doomed to die.

“Get to the room,” he ordered, not daring to turn around. He lashed out with his booted foot and connected solidly with the head of a soldier trying to climb up the open side of the stairs.

“I cannot leave you!” she cried.

“You must!” he roared, meeting the downward slash of a sword with the upward swing of his own and sending the other’s sword flying. The soldier jumped off the side of the stairs to recover his weapon, but the one right behind him took his place. “If you love me,” he told her fiercely, “you will do this for me. Get to the room and bar the door!”

“No! John! Please, do not make me leave you!”

“Alys! If you love me, go!”

* * *

STEPHEN AWAKENED, PANTING for breath, his skin damp with sweat. A nameless dread filled him.