HAUNTED CASTLE
In the chamber that her mother and aunt had once shared, long ago, Joanna sat on the bed. She sighed.
That man! Of all the arrogant, unmannerly louts...
She shook her head, suddenly, laughing at herself. This man had haunted her for the last few years! That gaunt, handsome face that had looked out at her from the gray of terror. He was, it turned out, nothing but a bully.
I know what to do about that.
Having been raised around the children of the local landed class, she was used to bullies. There were plenty of boys and girls whose families spent their time following the hunt and left the children to find attention of the worst kind from their peers.
The best thing I can do is ignore the man. All he wants, like those children, is attention.
She smiled. She was resolved to ignore him, but she had to admit, she felt a strange feeling inside her when she thought of him. A sort of fluttery feeling, as if wings moved inside her. She sighed and lifted her comb. She was being silly.
I am not here to exchange words with that man. I am here to set things to rights.
The dream preyed on her mind as it had from the moment she arrived.
The castle had been the same in her dreaming as it was now, which was what bothered her. Uninhabited, deserted, cold, dark, and dank. The state of the castle had mired her whole family, darkening their lives, hampering their way forward. That was why she was so worried.
I need to fix it. I was the one with the flame.
It was a responsibility, and one she would not shirk. She would not let herself be distracted by her feelings for this man. Feelings, she admitted, she barely understood herself.
I would not...
A scream broke the substance of her thoughts. She dropped the comb and ran.
It rang out again, a bloodcurdling yell, coming from the end of the hallway.
Joanna hurled herself up the corridor, heading towards the source of the sound. It was here, on the same floor as the bedchambers, and it was getting louder. She rounded the corner and saw a figure, dressed in white, standing in the middle of the hallway. She recognized her face as one of the servants, the chief cook. She called out to her.
“Bet? Hush!”
The sound of her name seemed to strike through the terror of the woman, calming her. Her eyes cleared and she focused on Joanna.
“Lady Joanna?” She stared at her, as if she couldn't quite believe it was her.
“Bet,” Joanna said firmly. She focused on the woman only. She ignored the shapes that had appeared in the hallway behind, people coming to investigate the sound. The guards were both there, and a third figure, the tallest one, who was carrying a candle.
Him.
She blocked out the muscled form of him, willing herself to ignore him. The woman needed all her concentration. “You're safe now.” She made her voice firm as she told her.
“Oh, milady! Joanna! I was terrified! It was him!”
“Him.”
“The ghost! Oh! I saw it! Oh...” Sobbing, the woman sank to the floor.
Joanna, shivering, went to her knees. Looked her in the eye.
“The ghost. Bet, tell me. Who was it?”
Before she answered, Joanna guessed.
“The Master! The dead earl.” Bet sobbed.
Lord Brien. Joanna let out a shuddering breath. Her great-great uncle's ghost. Would he truly haunt the place? Why?
She felt a tingle down her spine and looked up. Someone was watching her.
It was not, however, a departed soul. She looked straight into the eyes of Lord Dougal. As she met his eye, the face changed. He looked for an instant younger than she knew he was, and his lip curled, making him haughty, arrogant. Cruel. Then it changed again, becoming the care worn, ruggedly handsome face she recognized as Lord Dougal.
Joanna shook her head, feeling it ache. She realized then that, for a moment, the sight had overtaken her normal seeing. That had been a vision. It was meant to tell her something. But what? Her head clearing slowly, Joanna forced herself to focus on the woman before her.
“I am here now, Bet. You don't need to be frightened. I am here to fix this. I will not let this haunting harm anyone. You will be safe now.”
She was not nearly as confident as she made herself sound, but she needed to reassure her.
Bet breathed out, clearly feeling better. “I'm glad tae hear it, so I am. I know ye'll set the place to rights.”
“Hold on, here,” Lord Dougal said, coming forward. He looked cross. “I'm the master here, and I demand to know...”
Joanna glared at him. He stepped back as if struck. She turned her back on him, blocking him out of the conversation. How dare he let his arrogance get in the way of reassuring this woman? Who was or was not the lord of Lochlann was, in this moment, immaterial. The servants trusted her and that was what counted now.
“Bet,” she said gently, helping her to stand. “Come back to bed. It's safe. You're safe. I'll see to it his ghost is put to rest. Promise you.”
Bet smiled. “Oh, milady. I am right glad you're here again. Now it'll all be set to rights.”
Joanna felt herself warm at the compliment. “Go back to bed. If anything happens, call me. We'll face this together.”
“God bless, mistress.”
Bet walked slowly up the hallway, continuing to say kind things about Joanna and how happy she was. She passed Lord Dougal without looking and then disappeared to the upper corridor, where she slept.
Joanna sighed. She leaned against the wall, feeling exhausted. Being reassuring had drained her more than she realized and the sight always left her drained. What was happening here? What had she returned to? She rubbed her forehead, feeling her head start to ache as it usually did after a glimpse like that into some past or future happening.
“Lady Joanna?”
Joanna found herself looking up into the weathered face of Lord Dougal. His dark eyes shone in the light of his candle. He looked concerned and she felt bad for her earlier anger.
“Sorry,” she murmured wearily. “I had to. I know I, um, overrode your command here. I did it because I needed to.”
“Why are you apologizing?” he asked. Joanna shook her head.
“I shouldn't have hushed you like that. I know it disrespected you before your servants.”
“I know,” he said. His expression was oddly gentle, and his eyes lifted at the corners, a soft smile playing about his full lips. “It's not like they had respect to begin with, is it now?”
“They would respect you. But they're frightened.” Joanna said. She bit her lip, looking away. His eyes on hers were intense. Something about that look, the tender gaze, drew her forward. Made her want to lift her face to his and...
Stop it, she chided herself. Here she was, wearing a night shift, her hair down, in his hall. He was, she noticed with surprise, also scantily dressed. A long white linen shift, his nightclothes covered his body from neck to toes, though it did, she couldn't help but notice, only enhance his broad shoulders.
Hating herself for the sudden brightness inside her, she looked at the opposite corner.
“There's something odd here,” Joanna said quietly.
“A ghost? I...”
“No,” Joanna said curtly. “I mean...I don't know. Please,” she added, looking up into his gentle face. “Can we discuss more tomorrow? I'm very tired.”
He winced as if she had hit him. “Of course. I'm terribly remiss. Forgive me.” He frowned, standing back. “Please, go to bed. Sleep. All can wait for morning.”
Joanna smiled a little sadly. She moved out from where she stood, standing next to him. She stared up at him. Something inside her insisted that she stand here, not wanting to leave quite yet.
“Joanna,” he said softly. “You're cold.”
His hand rested for a moment on her shoulder. Joanna closed her eyes. His touch was warm and strong. It reached inside, touching a place in her heart where nothing ever touched.
She let out a shaky breath. “Sorry. Yes. I'm cold. I'll sleep now.” She shook herself, and he removed his hand. She felt the loss of it. Feeling restless, she walked back towards her room.
“Goodnight, Lord Dougal.”
He was where she had been, staring back. “Goodnight.”
Joanna entered her room and closed the door.
Leaning against the door, she let out a shuddering breath. She was here, in the castle. It was dark, deserted, and haunted. She had seen a vision of the past. How it linked to the present, or changed the future, she had no knowledge. Oddly, though, she felt a wild elation fill her.
She laughed. All she knew was that this man made her feel things no one had ever made her feel before. New things. Frightening things. Wonderful, confusing, lovely things.
Sighing, she climbed into bed, slipping under the cold linen of the coverlet.
She closed her eyes, finding her thoughts returning repeatedly to their conversation. To when he looked into her eyes like that. To his hand on her shoulder.
Goodnight, Lord Dougal. Goodnight.
Her words, and his, chased each other about in her thoughts, tender, soft, full of feelings she did not understand.
Still frowning, expecting to be troubled by dark dreams, she fell asleep.
She had no dreams that night. Or if she did, they were not dark.
When she woke in the morning, soft dawn touching her eyelids, she had a clear head, a sense of calm. However, no more answers than she had before.
She did, however, have a plan to get them.
Feeling full of energy and purpose, Joanna knew, in that moment, that she would not let this defeat her. She would not stop until the mystery was solved. Whatever it led to for them both.