Crimson Twilight by Graham Heather

Author:Graham, Heather [Graham, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: 1001 Dark Nights, paranormal, Romance, Heather Graham, wedding, ghosts
Publisher: Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
Published: 2014-02-11T07:00:00+00:00

* * * *

Within another ten minutes, everyone was where they should be or on their way to their own homes. Sloan watched as Jane came down from the attic level, her hand firmly on the handrail of the far less elegant steps that led from the second floor to the attic. She joined him, Logan, and Kelsey on the second floor landing by their rooms.

“One of us will be up through the night. I’m taking first shift and Kelsey will be second. You two deserve to get some sleep or whatever tonight.”

“We’re fine,” Sloan assured him.

“We know that,” Kelsey said, grinning. “We just want you to know that we’re on the awake duty, or guard duty, or whatever you want to call it.”

Sloan started to protest but Jane caught his arm. “Just tell them thank you, Sloan.”

“Thank you,” Sloan said.

Jane dragged him into the room.

“I’m, uh, up for whatever you’re in the mood for,” he said.

But she walked away from him, leaving him in the entry and heading into the bedroom. She stood there for a while and then walked back out.

“She’s not here,” she said.

“No?”

She shook her head with disappointment. “I thought that she would be. I thought that tonight we’d see her.”

Sloan walked to her and took her gently into his arms. “Maybe she knows that we’re here. Maybe she knows why we came. And maybe she’s as good and sweet as history paints her. What she really wants is happiness for others.”

She’d felt warm in his arms. Warm, soft and plaint, trusting, so much a part of him that their heartbeats seemed the same. But then she stiffened and pulled away from him. He realized that she was looking out one of the windows. The drapes hadn’t been pulled closed. She walked to it and he followed closely behind her.

And he saw what she saw.

There was a man standing in the moonlight. He was by the caretaker’s cottage, looking up. He seemed to be in breeches and a blousy poet’s shirt. His hair was long, his thighs encased in boots.

“John McCawley,” Jane whispered.

Sloan had to agree.

The figure in the moonlight faded.

Jane turned into Sloan’s arms. “The past has something to do with this. I know it.”

“We should get some sleep,” he told her.

She nodded and headed into the bedroom. It was supposed to have been their wedding night. But he knew her. She was upset. The minister she’d brought to the castle had died here.

“I love you,” she said.

“I know,” he told her.

“I’ll be in bed,” she said. “Just give me a few minutes.”

He let her go and walked over to the board Kelsey had set up that day, studying what she had written. Who had something to gain from the death of a minister?

He went over the names.

Mrs. Avery, he thought. The distant relative. The woman who had allowed Jane to book the castle for the wedding.

He walked into the bedroom. Jane hadn’t even disrobed. She was lying on her side, her eyes closed, sound asleep.

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