Chapter Two #3
There was an unexpected gust of wind that whistled over the open roof and windows. Miss Hall stepped close and Quinton wrapped an arm around her. To his pleasure, she moved in even closer, her body warm and soft against his. “Don’t worry, love; ghosts may be terrifying, but they cannot hurt you.”
As if surprised by this, she angled her head up to him while her hands rested on his chest. Not for the first time, she stood close enough for him to kiss. The urge to do so was almost overwhelming, and if he were a younger man, he would have not been able to resist doing so.
“You are a very beautiful woman, Miss Hall, and I am honored to be spending my day with you,” he decided to say instead.
Her eyes flashed with surprise as her pretty mouth gaped a bit. But she did not move away from him. That was a very good sign.
An odd sound outside of the building caused her to stiffen. “What was that?” she whispered.
Quinton frowned and opened his ears as best he could, and he heard it, too. Something walked nearby outside. Slow, deliberate, crunching steps.
He put a finger to his lips and pulled her away from the window and into a nearby corner. Whatever was out there stopped at the window they had just been looking through. He could tell by the location of the sound.
Miss Hall jerked her gaze up to him and he could feel her breathing had quickened. Again, he put a finger to his lips. However, she was so terrified that she was shaking and tears were forming in her eyes.
The crunching walk from outside turned into a slow, slithering scraping sound. A muffled thunk hit the earthy ground. And then that crunching walk resumed, only it sounded from inside the building.
And it approached them.
Real, genuine fear struck him in the heart and spread through his veins. Without further thought, he turned their bodies so Miss Hall was safe in the corner, protected by his cover. He turned to face whatever approached, while she gripped his back and buried her face against him.
Her shaking and obvious terror only made him more determined to protect her. Under a cornered threat, his strong affection for her became evident and was now impossible to ignore.
He would do anything for her right now. Anything.
The past season rushed by in a flurry of memories.
The way he’d only accepted invitations to parties his secretary had discovered she would be attending.
How even if he hadn’t talked to her at said party, he’d still admired her from afar.
How whenever she’d agreed to dance with him, letting go of her had become harder each time.
The last time they’d danced, a few weeks ago, it had felt as if a part of him had been being separated from his body at the dance’s end. It had felt unnatural and cruel.
Miss Hall was beautiful. Graceful. Interesting, different, amusing, and most of all…
He was quite sure he had fallen madly in love with her.
The realization struck him hard enough that it distracted him from the approaching ghost.
He couldn’t have been distracted at a worse time.
The fog opened, almost like a curtain, to reveal a wispy woman of pale gray, her form spindly and misty. She had no facial features, and her long dress featured the trumpet sleeves that had once been popular in the medieval era.
Before he could celebrate the discovery—finally, he could discern better when the couple had been alive!—the ghostly woman howled an ear-piercing, sorrowful cry.
Miss Hall screamed with terror, squeezed out from behind him, and bolted off into the fog.
Upon her clamoring, the ghost disintegrated, becoming one with the fog that surrounded them.
“Miss Hall!” the duke shouted out. He ran several steps forward, tripping over a fallen stone. “Miss Hall!” he tried again, cursing his sore toe.
But there was no response.
Quinton swore to himself and lifted his top hat to run an anxious hand through his hair before putting it back on.
His racing heart and erratic movements would not help him, however. He buried his face in his hands, took a few deep breaths, then resolved to stay calm.
He no longer wanted to see the headless ghost again. The headless ghost’s beloved was terrifying enough.
“Miss Hall!” he cried out again. Then, “Lillian!”
At that, he heard something off in the distance.
“Lillian!” he started running toward the noise, hoping he didn’t trip and fall flat on his face or break a bone. He found himself exiting the crumbling abbey. With heavy breathing, he called out her name again.
“Over here!” she called back.
Relief flooding him, he sprinted in the direction of her voice.
And found her untying the horses.
Without a care, he lifted her up and spun her in a circle before pulling her close and burying his face in her hair. “My love, my darling, I have not been so terrified in my life. Ever.”
“Wh-What do you mean?” Her voice shook. With fear?
He framed her face with his hands and studied those impossibly dark-blue eyes. They held warmth for him despite everything that had just happened. “You are my light in the fog,” he confessed.
And he finally—finally!—leaned down to her.