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

guestrooms on the level below were
bustling centers of activity, as was the ground floor where the
wedding celebrations would take place. But here, high above the
bleak but beautiful countryside, she and her betrothed were
isolated.
    Miles stroked his hand down her cheek with a
tenderness that she felt to her toes. Clawing doubt receded on a
tide of need. “Of course we should.”
    “Tomorrow—” she said on a fading protest as he gently
pushed her back onto the mattress. When Miles kneeled above her, it
sagged under their weight.
    For all her pleasure in his touch, something in her
didn’t want to be on this bed—and not just because Miles tempted
her to impropriety. She’d believed herself immune to the house’s
dark legends, but she discovered that she wasn’t quite as
level-headed as she thought. A Chinese princess had cursed this
bed. In the full light of day, Calista treated such superstition
with contempt. Here, in this shadowy room, malevolence whispered
from the very wainscoting.
    “I’m not sure I can wait until then.” He rose above
her, supporting himself on his arms.
    She struggled to shore up the crumbling remnants of
common sense. “It’s only one more day.”
    “How cruelly you say that, as if my torment doesn’t
signify.”
    “Of course it matters,” she said unsteadily, panting
with forbidden excitement.
    The amusement ebbed from his face and she couldn’t
quite interpret his assessing look. “I wish I believed that.”
    She frowned. The gravity in his voice seemed out of
kilter with their flirting. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean that sometimes I feel…my passion for you
outweighs your passion for me.” His voice was deeper than usual,
his words more hesitant.
    “No…” Shocked she stared up into the perfect planes
of his face. Her eyes had adjusted to the dull light so that she
saw the uncertainty that flickered in his hazel eyes. Miles
Hartley, Viscount Kendall, wasn’t by nature an uncertain man. “No,
Miles. You know I love you.”
    “Then prove it.” His voice was harder than she’d ever
heard it and his jaw set in an unfamiliar stubborn line.
    Surprise held her briefly silent. She was used to his
easy manner. But this man looked ready to take on the world and
seize what he wanted from it.
    “This time tomorrow, we’ll be married,” she said
shakily. “You can’t tumble me here with the house full of
people.”
    “So you say.” Still he looked as if he conceded
nothing.
    Calista grabbed his arms, feeling the tensile
strength under the dark blue riding jacket. Right now, he seemed
like a stranger. “Miles, what is it?”
    He shook his head and his gaze slid away from hers.
Disquiet filled her. She hadn’t been sure if he was joking when
he’d started this game. Now she knew something was wrong. Something
more than male frustration that she didn’t succumb without demur to
his lures.
    “Miles?”
    He stared directly at her, his hazel eyes dark and
somber as she’d never seen them. “It’s just—”
    He paused, searching for words, he who never lacked a
ready quip or a witty riposte. Her disquiet transformed into a
coiling mass of adders hissing and squirming in her belly. She’d
known this day would come. She’d known that he’d recover from
whatever whim had made him want her. She braced for him to reject
her, to send her back to the lonely prison her life had been until
he’d miraculously fallen in love with her.
    Miles spoke in a rush. “I feel you’re holding
yourself back from me.”
    He hadn’t said what she expected. She could only
stare at him with a frown. “I don’t understand.”
    But she did, oh, dear Lord, she did.
    She’d never trusted this happiness. Self-preservation
insisted she reserved a fraction of her soul from him. So that when
the inevitable happened and he decided he didn’t love her after
all, she’d survive. What astonished her was that Miles had sensed
the barriers she raised between them. She’d tried so hard to