The Haunting of a Duke by Chasity Bowlin Page A

bench that backed up to a stone wall. The wall was cushioned with moss, providing a comfortable spot to settle in for the afternoon. The overall effect was that of a ruined Grecian temple. It was perfect
    Taking a seat on the bench, she opened the book and tried to read. After several moments, she simply closed the book on her lap and tilted her head back to look up at the sky. Even the grand escape provided by Mrs. Radcliff could not hold her attention. She was too distracted by the veiled warnings of Lady Eleanor, and her own preoccupation with Rhys. His Grace , she corrected herself mentally. She needed to break the habit of thinking of him by such an intimate moniker.
    Emme became aware after a few moments that she was no longer alone. She braced herself for the shock, but it was still a jolt when she turned her head and saw Melisande sitting beside her. The girl smiled, and she looked so vital that it was difficult for Emme to reconcile herself to the knowledge that Melisande was a spirit.
    "Hello, Emme."
    "Hello, Melisande,” she responded in the same level tone. “What brings you here today?"
    Her smile faltered, and for a moment looked very grown up and very, very sad. “I am not here today. I am here every day. It has been that way since I died."
    Emme felt a rush of sympathy for the girl, trapped as she was between two worlds, and so very alone. “That must be very difficult for you. Do you wish to leave Briarwood?"
    Melisande met her gaze with a steady one of her own. “I wish for many things. Mostly I wish for my brother to be happy. I wish for Michael to let go of the past. And I do wish to leave here, when everyone else is safe."
    "What is it that you want of me today?” Emme asked her.
    "Now, that is a much more direct question,” the child said, with a sardonic smile that mirrored her brother's. “Did Michael tell you how I died?"
    Emme shook her head. “No, I don't think he likes to talk about it. He did tell me that he loved you very much."
    The girl considered this for a moment. “He might have, if I had grown up. He loves a memory. And he feels guilty because he did not save me."
    The tragedy, he had called it.
    "He was a child,” Emme said, “how could he have saved you?"
    The child rose and began to pace back and forth in front of her on the path. She still looked real and solid, but the light appeared different around her. It shimmered around her, rather than settled on her, much like staring into the distance on a hot summer's day. “He couldn't have. But still he blames himself. It's because he was the one who found me. There in the woods, just beyond the garden."
    The words poured out of her then, horrible and so very vivid. “He cried so very hard, and was so frightened. He wanted to go for help, but I wouldn't let him. I knew that it was too late, that I couldn't be helped and I was so afraid to be alone."
    Emme's skin prickled and she felt cold all the way through to her bones, in spite of the warmth of the day. “What happened to you?"
    Melisande stopped her pacing and turned to face her. “That is why you're here, Emme. Until my murderer is found, Michael cannot be free."
    "What of Rhys, Melisande? What of Elise?"
    Melisande leveled a look at her that implied she lacked in intelligence. “There is only one killer, Emme. And I wasn't the only one. Elise died at the same hands for very different reasons."
    Emme asked no more questions for Melisande disappeared. There was no puff of smoke or any other sign of warning. One second she was there and the next she was simply gone.
    Emme sighed and tilted her head back, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion. She wanted answers, and she wanted, perhaps for the first time in her life, to prove that her abilities were real. It had become important, at some point along the way, for Rhys to believe in her and that was enough to terrify her.
    Aware that the sky was darkening, Emme knew it was time to return to the house. It was not so late in