These Haunted Hearts: A Regency Ghost Story by Anna Campbell Page A

the empty hallway into the shadowy
bedroom. “Miles, I haven’t got time,” she said without sounding in
the least convincing.
    “I’ll be quick.”
    Through dimness created by drawn curtains, she shot
him a disbelieving look. “That’s what you always say.”
    As ever when she regarded the man she was to marry,
her heart twisted in an agony of love. Tall, golden-haired,
charming, Viscount Kendall was like a magical prince out of a fairy
tale.
    A tide of self-doubt threatened to drown her, in
spite of her appearance of light-heartedness. She still couldn’t
believe that this superb creature had chosen her from all the women
in the world to become his wife.
    She was a devotee of logic, of scientific process.
Miles Hartley’s partiality for a bluestocking Long Meg like her
seemed completely nonsensical. She’d imagine he was mad if she
wasn’t herself victim to a madness impervious to research or reason
or cold, hard reality. But while she recognized her affliction as
permanent, how long would his madness last? Until tomorrow? Next
year?
    From the moment she’d seen him across her father’s
drawing room, she’d fallen under Miles’s spell. She still recalled
her incredulity when he’d proposed six weeks later. Desperately
she’d hoped to become more secure in his love as time passed, but
with every day of the last three months, her uncertainties had
burgeoned. Now, on the afternoon before her wedding, they gnawed at
her like starving rats on a loaf of stale bread.
    She told herself a thousand times she was a silly
goose. Miles said he loved her. He said it over and over. But at
her deepest level, nothing convinced her that she was worthy of his
regard. He was elegant and brilliant and gifted with a vivid
masculine beauty. He should choose a wife who was equally
beautiful, a toast of society, instead of a drab wallflower like
her. Calista was bitterly aware that with her straight brown hair
and long, thin body, and strong Aston features, she was no
beauty.
    With his usual careless grace, Miles kicked the door
shut behind him and drew her inexorably into his arms. Another
shudder of love ran through her. It was dangerous to love a man as
much as she loved Miles.
    “It’s your fault.” He smiled at her as though she was
as bright and lovely as a rainbow. “If you weren’t so delicious,
I’d be happy with a mere peck on the cheek.”
    “You’re a sweet-tongued devil.” The grim tenor of her
thoughts lent the remark a sharp edge.
    His smile turned wicked. “Let me show you.”
    He kissed her and she melted into his arms. His mouth
opened over hers and his tongue slipped between her lips to tease
her into a fever. She was helpless against this passion. It
terrified her even as she flung herself into the blaze. From the
first, he’d made her feel almost painfully alive. If he ever left
her, she had a bleak premonition that she’d never feel alive
again.
    Reluctantly she drew away. Tomorrow… Tomorrow when he
kissed her, they wouldn’t need to worry about proprieties. Fear
that wasn’t quite so delicious shivered through her. She wanted to
lie with Miles more than she’d ever wanted anything, but she
couldn’t help but worry that she’d disappoint him.
    Tomorrow they’d share the carved bed that loomed
behind her. The bed that was much closer than it had been. While
kissing her, Miles had nudged her backward.
    He caught her face between his hands. “Calista,
darling Calista, if only you could see yourself how I see you. You
wouldn’t torture me this way.”
    “We shouldn’t be here alone,” she whispered, resting
her hands on his shoulders.
    She didn’t know why she lowered her voice. Something
in this hushed, close room always made her want to tiptoe. Nobody
else loitered on the upper floor of her father’s hitherto neglected
mansion on the Norfolk Broads. The servants were too busy preparing
for the festivities and readying a long-empty house to welcome the
onslaught of visitors. The