Chapter Four
The rain stopped sometime around one o’clock in the morning. When it felt like the entire house slumbered, Lillian stepped out onto her balcony, unable to sleep.
She shivered among the damp chill, but the air still felt refreshing.
Mr. Brainard, as expected, had indeed offered for her.
Father had come to tell her the good news before he’d gone to bed a few hours ago.
Something in her face must have given away how she felt about it because he asked if she wanted the match.
She had not said yes. Or no. Instead, she’d said she was tired.
But that wasn’t true.
Lillian hugged herself and glanced in the direction of the duke’s balcony. He was not out there right now and probably slept soundly in his room like all of the other guests.
Part of the reason Lillian had had trouble sleeping lately was because she dreamed about the duke every night.
But tonight, she could not handle that. For whatever reason, he had become different to her over the past few days.
Vacant, distant. But why? It was stupid of her to wonder.
Of course an older man, a perpetual bachelor with more life experience, would not want her beyond kissing and panting!
After they had shared that experience of the ghost, and the passion they’d ignited in each other, she had thought, perhaps stupidly, that he would be offering for her. Not Mr. Brainard.
Especially after those scandalous words he’d whispered in her ear.
She placed a hand over her racing heart as desire slid over her skin at the thought of that moment.
But she was clearly more na?ve than she thought, and Mr. Brainard’s was the only offer of marriage she had received.
Her father had set up a trust for her in America that would be her money and only her money upon marriage.
She had called it her “Scoundrel Insurance” because she would not be financially beholden to a husband, thanks to her wonderful and thoughtful father.
But it was only hers when she married. And she could not remain unmarried forever.
In a fit of desperation, and with her departure looming, she’d boldly told the duke she had thought he wanted to marry her. Alas, she had been wrong.
She felt sad at this. Life with him seemed as if it would be fun.
They could travel around seeking out the mystical creatures he’d spent his life learning about.
She’d come to this ghost hunt not believing in ghosts yet had seen one for herself.
Surely, she could be wrong about the existence of other creatures, too.
Her eyes began to well with tears. She loved the duke, but he didn’t seem to care. He probably thought her silly, childish, annoying. Easy to mold and use.
Shoes crunched over the ground nearby and she held her breath. Someone or something walked below her balcony.
With a racing heart, she pressed back against the wall and willed herself to complete silence. A moment later, a man appeared in a black frock coat but no hat. The graying hair at his temples was exposed. Between the hair and the wide and shapely shoulders, Lillian immediately knew it was Quinton.
The duke took a few steps out into the darkness and faced the yawning expanse. Everything felt cold and damp, but there was no fog, which meant no ghosts. So what was he doing out here?
He started to turn around and she dropped to lie flat on the ground so as not to be caught watching. There was a long silence. And then more crunching of the ground. She scooted forward just enough to see him disappear into the darkness.
In order to have even a small chance of catching up, Lillian had no choice but to quickly throw on a housecoat—one that looked closest to a dress—and, as quietly as possible, ran downstairs and out the door.
She hurried in the direction he had gone.
If he had gone out just to walk and clear his head, she could give him a piece of her mind without having to worry about others listening in.
Then she could go home with her head held high, at least.
About ten minutes into running after Quinton, there was still no sign of the duke and worry began to replace her anger.
Up ahead, a large tree stood on its own. She decided to head in that direction and figure out where to go from there. Halfway to it, though, the fog began to lift.
Lillian swore to herself. When the unmistakable sound of a carriage and horses clattering and galloping in the distance cut through the night air, she was overtaken with terror and began to run to the tree before she lost sight of it.
With luck, she managed to reach it, because by the time she did, she could not see more than two feet in front of her. Perhaps it would be best to stay here until the fog cleared. Hopefully soon.
The air she breathed in was icy and wet and it smelled like decaying leaves. The earthy smell clung to her nostrils, and she wondered if ghosts smelled or not.
The rattling carriage faded away. It must have been someone living and trying to reach their destination quickly thanks to the fog.
But the relief was short-lasting because the soft thuds of footsteps on the spongy, damp ground interrupted the brief respite.
Somehow, the air turned to freezing and her teeth began to chatter. The cloud of each breath as it left her lips rose and curled into the air.
The soft thuds became a gallop. A horse approached.
She knew who it was before he showed himself, but there was nowhere for her to go. The fog confused her and she was afraid to run and step in a hole, breaking her leg.
The fog parted and a black form bled through. The smoky, dark cloud stopped twenty feet away and began to whirl and stretch until a vague form of a horse appeared. It snorted at her.
Lillian stopped breathing as her heart roared in her ears.
Slowly, from the feet up, the smoke came together and solidified just enough to form legs, then a torso, then the arms of a man.
A headless man.
Instinct told her to run, that this was not a friend, that she was in extreme danger. It felt as if a demon stood before her.
With a whimper, Lillian backed against the tree, her heart racing harder than ever before. She wondered if her heart could kill her.
The black horse lowered its head, snorting, and the transparent headless man pointed at her.
Lillian let out a bloodcurdling scream as the headless ghost galloped toward her. She raced across the moors, and no matter where she turned, the galloping followed. But the horse was, of course, much faster than she was.
The eerie gallop closed in on her. Knowing she was seconds away from reach, she screamed again, stopped running, and dropped to the ground in a ball.
Just before the horse and headless man collided with her, or ran her over, someone threw her over their shoulder and ran away from the ghost. The galloping sound followed for a moment before going completely silent.
It took Lillian a minute to realize it was Quinton who currently sprinted across the chilly moors with her thrown over his shoulder.
At some point, he let her down and collapsed to the ground to sit, panting desperately, his forehead in his hands.
“Quinton!” she cried out with real tears streaming down her face. Before he could even respond, she threw herself down to the ground and into his strong and awaiting arms.
His ribs rose and fell with his loud, labored breathing. “I heard you—” He breathed hard. “You screamed. So loud. I thought—I thought you were hurt.”
All she wanted to do was kiss him. Straddling his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and opened his mouth to sweep his tongue against hers.
Their erratic and desperate kissing was broken only when he moved to nip and kiss her neck, then her earlobe.
When she squirmed with delight, her knees bracketing harder on his hips, he stopped to smile against her hairline. “You should not be sitting on me like this, my love. You do not know what it does to me.”
She nibbled his bottom lip. “Oh, I know very well what it does to you. And I shall sit upon you the way I please. And this pleases me.”
Quinton groaned, kissed her hard again, then forced the kiss to end. They clung to each other, both panting hard but unable to fully break apart.
“Did you see him?” she asked, almost afraid he would say no.
Quinton let go of her to lean back, his palms pressing into the ground. He stared off to the side for so long, she wondered if he would respond. Finally, his haunted, pale-blue eyes met hers, and the color drained from his face. “Yes. I saw him.”
Relieved it had not been just her, she buried her face against his neck. “I have not gone mad, then.”
He kissed her temple. “If you’re mad, then that makes two of us.” An audible swallow. “I am sorry you had to be terrified so. I am even more sorry to have dragged you into this.”
“I followed you out here, so it’s no one’s fault but my own. Why were you out here, anyway?”
His voice cracked. “I couldn’t sleep and went out for a walk. You haunt my dreams. For months, you have done so. I cannot escape you.”
She inhaled sharply from the admission. One that matched her own experience.
He continued. “I have fallen madly in love with you, and in my greed, I have lured you into danger using passion, knowing how it affects you. You must regret it all, and I will never, ever, forgive myself for that.”
Was that truly what he thought? She leaned forward to kiss just behind his jaw, causing his breath to catch.
“What about this moment makes you think I regret any of it? Is it the way I sit upon you? Is it the way I dream about you, too? Is it the way I meet your desire with my own, or that I want you, not Mr. Brainard, to offer for me? Is it that I have fallen in love with you, too?”
He stared at her, unblinking. With a grin, she leaned forward to press their mouths together again and the fog began to thin. Lillian rolled to the ground and pulled him atop her.
He braced his hands on the ground on either side of her and looked down at her with concern. “But my age—”
“Do you think I do not know it? And yet here I remain.” She reached up to run her fingers through the silver of his hair.
He tried another retort. “You are American.”
“Who came here to find a husband.” She lifted one eyebrow at him. “Or are you saying that I am not considered good enough for you, so you cannot entertain this discussion?”
He chuckled deeply and lowered himself to kiss her for a few more lazy minutes. Then, he paused to mumble, “Funny that now I don’t remember any of my arguments.”
Lillian bit her bottom lip and looked up at him. “We should get married, then, yes?”
“Is that really, truly, what you want?” he asked, caressing her cheek.
She smiled and nodded vehemently. And then she had a funny idea. “You finally got to see the headless ghost again, and his beloved. What else have you wanted to see?”
He pressed slow kisses to her hairline. “Mermaids,” he whispered against her.
“Very well. We get married and then go to the seaside to find mermaids.”
He pulled back at this and there was genuine warmth and love in his eyes. “Do you really want to do that? Or are you saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
She smiled widely. “I know it’s what you want to hear. But I also would like to do it with you because I love you. And I think it would be a fun way to begin the rest of our lives together.”
“Then we shall do that, my love,” Quinton said on a sultry whisper.
“Good.” She closed her eyes. “There is nothing I want more than you right now, however. I do not care about ghosts and mermaids as you stretch atop me.”
“Nor I when I lie atop you.” He groaned.
She opened her eyes just a bit. “What was that delightfully scandalous affair you spoke of earlier? It sounded alluring. I have been very curious about it since you teased me with it.”
Quinton moved to kneel, a wicked grin settling on his face. With a gentled hand, he lifted one of her stockinged legs, caressed it, and kissed her ankle. “My love, my heart, my soon-to-be wife. It is far better shown than explained. May I?”
Lillian stared up at the impossibly beautiful man who looked down at her through lowered eyelids as if she were all that existed in the moment.
Pale moonlight spread over the moors and a veil of silver settled upon her beloved.
Her heart pounded with anticipation, as she knew something wonderful was about to happen, but she wasn’t quite sure what, exactly.
But she could trust him, and he would take care of her.
Life with Quinton, she already could tell, would be better than her dreams come true.
The End