Amanda Quick - Dangerous

Prudence raked Curling's arm with the jagged bits of glass that had once been her fashionable eyeglass.

Curling yelled. He instinctively released his grip on Prudence and grabbed at his arm. Blood spurted between his fingers. ‘You little bitch."

Prudence darted out of reach.

Curling swung back to confront Sebastian, but it was too late.

Sebastian was already moving.

Curling tried to bring the pistol back in line, but there was no chance. Sebastian lashed out with his foot and knocked the weapon from Curling's hand.

He went in quickly. He smashed his fist into Curling's jaw. The blow sent Curling staggering back toward the tower windows. They must have been unlatched, because they banged open under the im­pact.

Wind howled into the chamber. The candle flared and went out, plunging the room into almost total darkness. The windows shuddered heavily on their hinges.

Sebastian started forward. There was just enough light to discern the outline of Curling's figure as he crouched in front of the window. The wind screamed into the room.

"No," Prudence shouted above the roar of the wind. "Sebastian, wait. Stay away from him."

It was the shattering sense of urgency in her voice that stopped Sebastian. He glanced back over his shoulder. He could just barely see the pale shape of her face. He realized she was staring past him.

Curling screamed. It was a keening, mind-numbing sound of fear.

"My God," Garrick whispered.

Sebastian whirled around. Curling was still screaming.

"Stay away from me," Curling yelled. But he was not talking to Sebastian. He was looking toward the bed, his hands held out in front of him as if he would ward off whatever he saw there. "No, stay away from me. Stay away from me."

Fascinated dread gripped Sebastian. He watched the dark shape that was Curling edge backward in a crablike fashion until he was pressed against the window ledge.

"It's you," Curling gasped. He climbed up onto the windowsill and stood in the opening. "It's you, isn't it? No, don't touch me. I never intended for you to die. Don't you see? You were the one who chose to jump. You didn't have to do it. I only wanted to have some sport. You were just a tavern wench… Don't touch me."

Curling shrieked and recoiled from something only he could see. He toppled backward through the window and fell into the blackness that was waiting for him.

His scream pierced the night for what seemed an endless time.

Then there was silence. Absolute silence. Even the strange wind that had sprung up out of nowhere suddenly ceased. Outside the win­dow the fog resettled itself like a shroud around Curling Castle.

Sebastian realized that no one, including himself, was moving. He took a deep breath and shook off the paralysis that had held him in thrall. He turned and went swiftly across the chamber. He groped for the candle. It took him two tries before he managed to light it.

When the flame finally flickered into life it was strong and steady. Sebastian turned toward Prudence, expecting to see stunned shock in her eyes.

She was standing in the middle of the room, her brows drawn together in a thoughtful expression. She did not look like a woman who had just seen a ghost.

"Does it strike you, Sebastian, that it is not nearly as cold in here now as it was earlier?" she asked.

He stared at her. "Yes," he heard himself say very softly. "It is much warmer in here now."

Garrick struggled to a sitting position and grimaced with pain. He glanced at the man lying on the floor. "There were three of these villains. All hired from the stews for the night. This one sent the other two back to London after they were paid."

Sebastian hefted the pistol. "Then they will not be a problem for us tonight." He went to the window and looked down. The fog swirled, providing a brief glimpse of Curling's boots on the stones below the tower.

"We'll have to rouse the magistrate," Garrick said.

"Who's going to tell him about Lillian's ghost?" Prudence asked.

"I think we'll leave the ghost out of it," Sebastian said. "I, for one, never actually saw her. And neither did either of you."

"No," Garrick said, sounding relieved. "I never saw anything re­sembling a ghost."

"I'm not so certain of that," Prudence said. A look of speculation appeared in her eyes. "I believe I may have witnessed some significant evidence of spectral phenomena."

"I believe you are mistaken, my dear," Sebastian said. "This is my investigation and I am the one who will discuss it with the magistrate. And I saw no ghost."

Prudence's brows rose. "As you wish, my lord. I cannot help but notice, however, that the curse Lillian placed on The Princes of Virtue has come true. All four of them have been destroyed, one way or another. Even Bloomfield has paid a price for what he did to her."

Sebastian started to argue and then thought better about it. There was no denying that for all intents and purposes, Lillian had been avenged.

It was nearly three in the morning before the explanations had been made to the local magistrate. Mr. Lewell was a large, bluff man who took his duties seriously. He seemed deeply awed at finding him­self dealing with an earl. He asked very few questions, which was just as well because Sebastian had decided to alter a few facts to suit his own purposes.

As he had explained to Prudence and Garrick, there was no reason to drag Jeremy into the matter at this juncture. And no way to prove that the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham had been anything other than what they had appeared, an accident and a suicide.

"So Curling committed suicide." Lewell shook his head when Se­bastian had concluded the tale. "Well, he was an odd one. There have been rumors of some strange doings up at the castle from time to time."

"Is that so?" Sebastian said politely.

"Aye. Servant gossip, you know; nevertheless, one wondered. There was a young girl who went missing a few years ago. Some said that Curling and his friends had…" Lewell let the sentence trail off into thin air. "Well, that's neither here nor there now. The man is dead."

"Quite dead," Sebastian said.

Lewell nodded sagely. "I regret to tell you that he will not be missed around these parts."

"Because of the strange doings up at the castle?" Sebastian asked.

"Not exactly," Lewell admitted. "Curling, I fear, was in the habit of bringing his fancy friends up from London at every opportunity. Unfortunately for the local shops, he brought his supplies along with him. Claimed he couldn't get good quality in the village. Never spent so much as a penny here."

"I see." Sebastian smiled.

When the interview was over, Garrick opted to spend what re­mained of the night at a nearby inn. "My head hurts too much to even contemplate a carriage ride. I'll make arrangements to return to Town tomorrow. What about you two?"

Prudence patted away a wide yawn. "I could fall asleep right where I stand."

Sebastian looked at her. He wanted to take her home, where he knew she would be safe. He wanted to put her into his bed, where he could hold her so close that nothing, not even a ghost, could take her away from him. He wanted to protect her, shield her, keep her next to his heart for the rest of his life.

"You can sleep in the carriage on the way home," he said quietly.

"Of course, my lord," she said equably.

It did not take Sebastian long to make the arrangements. Half an hour later he and Prudence set off for London in a hired post chaise.

"I do believe the fog is beginning to lift." Prudence yawned deli­cately once more and adjusted the carriage rug over her knees. "We should make good time, Sebastian."

Sebastian put his arm around her and drew her against him. He gazed out into the night. "We shall be home by dawn."