Tiny shivers traveled from his hand through her body. She’d been correct. His touch flustered her more than the caress of his gaze. For a moment Sir Nicodemus stared at their clasped hands, his dark brows raised in surprise. Then he turned and glanced at her, that wolfish grin back on his face.
Phil abruptly blew out the candle and closed her eyes. Heaven help her if he set his mind on exploring that instant chemistry between them. “Now concentrate, ladies… and gentleman. Lord Stanhope, we summon your spirit, please come to us.” A soft tapping sounded at the window, most likely a tree branch in the wind, but Phil grasped at it. “Lord Stanhope! Is that you?”
Sir Nicodemus made a small sound of derision, but she could feel the rest of the circle tense with excitement.
Phil opened her eyes, fully prepared to cast an unfocused gaze at the corner of the room where she would pretend Lord Stanhope stood. His wife only wanted to tell him that she loved him. Who was she to deny the lady that satisfaction?
But Philomena caught a movement from the fireplace and her gaze met that of Tup. The young boy sat atop the mantel, his bare feet hanging over the edge, the glow of the fire shining through them. His brown hair was a mess as usual, his face so dirty that his hazel eyes stood out in startling contrast. Really, such a ragtag street urchin! Phil’s heart squeezed a bit and warmth flowed through her.
“Tup,” she whispered, trying to rise but anchored to her chair by the grip of Lady Stanhope and Sir Nicodemus.
“What’s a tup?” murmured one of the girls.
“The ghost-hunter’s spirit guide,” Lady Montreve snapped.
Phil was vaguely aware of the shock that rippled around the table, including that of Sir Nicodemus. She could feel him watching her, like a predator studies his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to leap. But she ignored them all, intent on seeing Tup’s ghost again. He wasn’t strong enough to stay long in the material world.
The only thing she’d ever regretted about not marrying was that she would never have her own child. And then Tup had followed her home one day.
“I come to tell ye to stop that,” he said, his large eyes blinking with sadness.
“What do you mean?” Phil asked.
“Cor, don’t ye fathom that the man passed over into hell? And he likes it there.”
Oh, dear. That meant that the man was as close to a demon as they came. No wonder using magic to summon a spirit was frowned upon. But since magical power was based on rank, only a royal could do that, or possibly a duke. Granted, ghosts would sometimes answer the call of a loved one… “But then why would he answer Lady Stanhope’s call, Tup?”
They couldn’t hear Tup, of course, just Philomena’s part of the conversation. She told herself to be more careful with her words.
“Not her call,” the boy answered impatiently. “Hers.” And he nodded at Lady Montreve.
Phil turned and stared at the lady, who refused to meet her gaze. But even in the weak glow of the firelight she could see the dark stain of color flooding the pretty woman’s cheeks. Is that why Lady Montreve had come this evening? To see her lover one last time? Philomena glanced at Lady Stanhope. Did she know her husband had been having an affair with her friend? Was that the real reason she’d called the séance, to find out the truth of it?
Tup’s eyes widened. “Crikey, I’m too late.” And he disappeared.
Phil slowly turned her head. Lord Stanhope’s specter materialized beside Phil’s assistant, Sarah, and floated toward their table.
“Reginald, is that you?” his wife cried.
But Lord Stanhope only had eyes for Lady Montreve. He circled the table until he stood behind the pretty woman. “Did you call me back for one more round, you doxy? Missing me already, eh?” He leaned forward, his face so close to the back of the lady’s neck that Phil could see the tiny hairs on her skin move. “Don’t think I don’t know it’s my money you’re missing. But I learned some things in hell, my dear. And when I heard your call I decided I shouldn’t have to wait to try them on you.”
Lady Montreve shuddered. “I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t think it was possible…”
“Don’t break the circle,” Philomena warned. “It’s her only protection.” She felt Sir Nicodemus’s grip tighten but the young girl—Phil wished she could remember her name—on the other side of Lady Montreve was trying to twist her hand from the woman’s grasp.
Phil saw Lord Stanhope’s arm disappear into his lover’s skirts. Lady Montreve screamed.
“What’s happening?” Lady Stanhope cried.
“Stop it!” Philomena shouted.
Lord Stanhope ignored them all, his black grin twisted into a leer of sadistic pleasure. The young girl pulled her hand free from Lady Montreve’s grasp. The circle was broken. Philomena didn’t have a choice. “Let go of my hand,” she told Sir Nicodemus. Bless him, he didn’t ask questions or argue; he just released his grip.
Phil really didn’t want to do this—oh, how she didn’t want to do this. She took a deep breath and stepped into Lord Stanhope’s black shadow and opened her soul to his. For one horrendous moment the man’s spirit melded with hers. Shafts of burning cold swept through her veins. His twisted sense of pleasure shook her body with an evil joy that made her squirm with shame.
She tried to send his soul back then, demanding that he return to the other side. He laughed at her. Phil strengthened her will, fighting with everything she had. Convulsions shook her body and then the world went black.
About the Author
Kathryne Kennedy is an award-winning author acclaimed for her world building and known for blending genres to create groundbreaking stories. Everlasting Enchantment is the much-anticipated new book in her popular Relics of Merlin series. Her magical series The Elven Lords includes The Fire Lord’s Lover, The Lady of the Storm, and The Lord of Illusion. She’s lived in Guam, Okinawa, and several states in the United States, and currently lives in Arizona with her wonderful family—which includes two very tiny Chihuahuas. She loves to hear from readers, and welcomes you to visit her website where she has ongoing contests at: www.KathryneKennedy.com.