Free Knight of Wands (Knights of the Tarot Book 1) by Nina Mason Page B

a sudden cold washed over her, lifting the tiny hairs on her arms and the back of her neck.
    A shimmer near the foot of the bed slowly assumed the ghostly form of a woman in a heavy brocade gown with flowing sleeves—the sort commonly worn in the Tudor era. The apparition’s hair was dark, very long, and looked almost wild. Vanessa, puzzled by her costume, stared long and hard. Surely, this wasn’t the ghost they’d discussed.
    “Who might you be?” the spirit asked in a lilting Scottish brogue, beating Vanessa to the punch.
    “My name’s Vanessa. Vanessa Meadows. I’m a friend of”—she hesitated, unsure how to describe her relationship to Callum—”the baron’s.”
    “You’re not Scottish.”
    “No, I’m not.” Vanessa offered the spirit a smile. “I’m American.”
    “Why are you here?”
    “I told you. I’m a friend of Callum’s.”
    As the spirit drew closer, the temperature dropped, giving Vanessa a chill.
    “Are you another of his whores?”
    Mildly surprised and offended by the question, Vanessa replied. “I hope not. What makes you ask me that?”
    “You’re in his bedchamber, are you not?”
    “Just because I choose to sleep with a man, doesn’t make me a whore.”
    “I know that,” said the ghost.
    Vanessa was confused. “Then why did you ask the question?”
    “I asked because he only brings whores here.”
    She had to know. “Who are you? Or, rather, who were you in life?”
    “I was his wife, the Baroness of Duncansby.”
    Vanessa was sure the ghost was mistaken. “Surely you don’t mean the current baron, Callum Lyon.”
    “That’s exactly who I mean.”
    “But…you’re dressed like a lady from the Tudor era.”
    “Because I am a lady from the Tudor era.”
    The statement raised more questions than it answered. When the ghost began to fade, Vanessa, desperate to keep her there, cried, “Wait! Don’t go yet. There’s still so much more I need to know…like if there’s a vampire here at Barrogill.”
    “There is a vampire,” said the lady’s dissipating visage. “But not the sort you imagine.”
    As soon as the ghost vanished completely, the room returned to its previous comfortable temperature. Far from being satisfied by the encounter, Vanessa was left conjecturing…about the vampire as well as Callum. At the same time, she’d achieved her first objective. She’d gotten inside Barrogill, and despite his denial, there was a vampire—just not the sort she imagined, whatever the hell that meant. She’d better call Mr. Armstrong the first chance she got to let him know she’d gotten inside—and what the ghost had said. It wasn’t much to report, but at least he’d know where she was and that she was making progress.
    Retrieving her handbag, she dug out her cell phone and checked the bars. Shit. Just as she’d feared, there was no signal way out here in the sticks of Scotland.
    * * * *
    Callum found Duncan lounging on the chesterfield sofa with his feet on the coffee table swirling a glass of single-malt and smoking a cigar. As he entered the library, his friend said, “So, how goes it with the lass from last night? Still working on the seduction, I gather from the voices I overheard.”
    “Aye. She’s changing for dinner as we speak…and I still need to go hunting, so, we’ll need to keep this brief.”
    Leaning forward, Duncan shot a pointed glance in his direction. “You know what I want to know, man, so out with it.”
    Callum did know, but still needed more time. He poured himself a whisky and posted himself near the fireplace. Taking a sip, he held the malt in his mouth, allowing smoke, peat, leather, and a hint of heather to seduce his senses.
    “I’m waiting…,” Duncan nudged.
    Callum swallowed. “I’ve got no answer for you.” He took another drink and trapped it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, again savoring the subtle flavors and sublime bouquet.
    “What’s fueling your indecision?”
    Callum shrugged. “While