She slipped from the bed. The doors to the balcony were open; the drapes drifted in a soft and eerie white wave. Standing very still next to the bed, Darcy searched the shadows for an visions or apparitions.
Silence, nothing…
She walked to the open doorway to the balcony, ran her hands over the drapes. As she started out to the balcony there was a shift in the breeze. The white gauzy fabric of the drapes wrapped around her as she was seized by powerful and forceful arms, trapped in a vise of merciless strength.
Chapter 5
5
A s they climbed the stairs to the apartments above the stables, Carter looked at Clint suspiciously.
“How did you do it?” he asked.
Clint looked at him, startled. “Do what?”
“The tapping.”
“I wasn’t doing the tapping. I thought it was you.”
“Hell, no.”
“Maybe the ghosts,” Clint said lightly.
“You believe in the ghosts now?” Carter asked, amused.
Clint was silent a minute. “Penny,” he said thoughtfully.
“Penny!” Carter said.
“She’s the one who wants to prove that Melody House has ghosts,” Clint reminded him.
“Yeah, but can you see Penny staging a bunch of tapping noises?”
“Why not?” Carter asked with a shrug.
“There’s Elizabeth—the medium,” Clint suggested with a laugh. “She needed to prove herself—especially with a real ghost buster in the room.”
“Um,” Carter mused. “And what do you think of our ghost buster racing out in the middle of the night, just like the young bride?”
Clint grinned slowly. “I think it’s a shame she didn’t race out naked like the bride. That is one exciting woman.”
“Mind your manners, son,” Carter said, but he was amused as well. He shrugged. “It just strikes me as strange, all this. Darcy Tremayne is no flighty young bride. The woman is all cool sophistication—and yes, too bad she didn’t come down in the buff, just like the bride. But there’s got to be something going on.”
“You are starting to believe in ghosts,” Clint said, scoffing.
Carter shook his head. “Nope. I’m starting to agree with Matt that someone is somehow playing tricks in the Lee Room. And I’d damned well like to know why.”
“Maybe people just feed off the fears and beliefs of others,” Clint said, impatient. He grinned. “You and I have both enjoyed that room, a hell of a lot. Even Matt. Before the place was really opened up the way it is now, when Matt’s granddad was still living and went in and out of Washington all the time. Hell, I had some of my best nights there. Nothing like impressing a young woman with a real historical house, a seduction in pure luxury—with the threat of a ghost to make her all warm and cozy.”
Carter nodded after a moment. “Yep, I’ve had my share of nights there.”
“And no ghosts?”
“And no ghosts,” Carter agreed.
“So—forget it.”
“Hard to forget when we’re hosting ghost busters.”
Clint shrugged. “You know, I have to admit that, over time, I’ve heard from plenty of people that they have seen things. Clara Issy is as rock-solid and sane a woman as you’re ever going to find. And she saw something in the Lee Room. And I’ve heard other guests swear that they’ve seen a soldier walk through the parlor.”
Carter laughed. “Yeah, I remember one occasion. And the couple did see a Rebel soldier walk through the room—he was headed out to take part in a battle re-enactment at Cold Harbor. Hell, I dressed up one time for a Civil War forum and scared half the people I knew.”
“The point being?”
“There is usually a logical explanation for ghosts.”
“All right, I grant you that. So?”
“So, I think someone is playing tricks. And if it’s not you, and it’s not me…then who? And why?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Clint said. He hesitated. “But I’d damned sure like to find out just who and why myself.”
With their guest in the house, Penny had taken up residence in the Stuart Room. It was two doors down from the Lee Room, in the ell on the left side of the house.
With both Matt and Darcy having returned to their rooms, Penny found herself standing indecisively in the hallway.
Might as well go back to bed. There was nothing else to do.
But she shook her head, staring at Matt’s door. What on earth had to happen for him to realize that he had something very special in this house? Oh, he loved the house, and was a great one for historical value, she gave him that.
But they had something even…better. And more unique.
Turning her attention to Darcy’s door, she folded her arms over her chest and swore softly beneath her breath. Why wouldn’t the young woman just say what had happened? There were ghosts in this house. It was a fact. And certainly, it might be hard to prove it to the world, but there was no reason for Matt to fail to believe, to fail to use the experiments and happenings here to enrich the legends that already abounded. It would be so wonderful to be a real center of attention for a public that loved such stories.
Just what on earth was she going to have to do to prove her point?
She sighed and walked down the hall to her own room, opened the door, and then hesitated once again.
“I’m here! I’m listening!” she said aloud. “Talk to me, whoever, whatever, you are. I’ll get your story out!”
She waited, looking around the hall.
But the ghosts apparently had nothing to say to her.
“I don’t care if you pull my hair—or if you want to slap me in the face! Hey, leave the others alone. I’m ready. I’ll help you.”
Still, there was nothing. The hall remained silent.
All right, seriously, just what on earth was she going to have to do?
With a disgusted sniff, she pressed the door open and went on into bed.
Darcy was caught in a terrible grip, all but smothered in the hold and the voluminous wealth of gauzy drapes tangled around her. Instinctive fear had seized hold of her as well, and she was ready to struggle, fight, and scream.
But the sound never left her lips, because a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Who are you, and what the hell are you doing?”
The voice, deep and very low, and all the more menacing for the quiet within it, cut into her mind like a knife.
And still, fear eased instantly.
She was silent and dead still for a minute, ruefully realizing her position.
Then she spoke.
“I’m your unwanted guest, and I was merely on my way out to the balcony when a breeze blew, and suddenly I found myself rather rudely accosted.”
She felt the vise ease from around her. For a split second, there was the simple warmth of Matt’s hold, taut muscles slackening, and a pleasant sense of just being held, of life and vibrance, masculine aftershave, and an essence of sexuality that took her completely off guard. She swayed.
His arms were releasing her.
She quickly gathered her wits about her, and found steadiness on her feet while he worked to untangle her from the draperies.
She emerged facing him, flushed, hair tousled.
“Why are you sneaking around the balcony?” she demanded.
Matt crossed his arms over his chest. “A, it’s my balcony. B, I wasn’t sneaking around. Your turn. What the hell were you doing, sneaking around on the balcony.”
“I heard something.”
“Apparently, you heard me.”
“So—why were you out here?”
“I heard something—apparently you.”
She shook her head. “I believe that I heard you first.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Oh, this is getting ridiculous.”
He arched a brow to her, implying that the entire situation of her being in his house was purely ridiculous.
She exhaled on a long sigh. “Look, your night has been disturbed enough. I really wasn’t making any noise.”
He grunted.
“Since there’s no one on the balcony except for you and me, I believe it would be safe for both of us to go back to sleep.”
“The balcony doors do lock,” he told her.
“Do you keep yours locked?” she asked him.
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because I listen.”
“In your sleep?”
“It’s a talent,” he said dryly. “But you should keep yours locked.”
She stared at him for a long while.
“Why should I?”
“Because someone is playing tricks with this room.”
“So you believe the danger is coming from the outside?”
“Where else?”
“Why can’t you believe that there’s anything in the world that isn’t black or white, visible to the naked eye?” she asked softly.
“I believe in a great big real world of gray,” he said.
“If there is any danger in the house,” she insisted quietly, “I believe it comes from the inside.”
“But you want to stay in the Lee Room anyway?”
She lowered her head, praying for patience. “If you’re such a serious skeptic, why did you agree to let the company in?”
“Because I know Adam. And I know that he can find any kind of sleight of hand out there.”
“Adam also believes deeply in the occult. And in me,” she added.
He shrugged, then brushed past her, entering the Lee Room again. For a moment, he stood with his back to her.
“I can’t tell you how many nights I spent in this room as a kid. And…even in the last few years,” he murmured. There was something behind his words; she didn’t know what. But then he swung around, staring at her again. “Lots and lots of nights. And nothing ever materialized before me. Nothing whispered in the dark. Nothing floated by.”