Free Sandra Heath by The Haunting of Henrietta Page B

on tonight? Intruders, self-propelling billiard balls, invisible dogs, and now . . . Now what? He strained to see along the other passage, where the night light was very dim. He saw the candlestick and knew that was what he’d heard; then he made out something small and white just visible on the floor around the corner. A bandaged wrist! Henrietta!
    Jane hovered anxiously nearby as he crouched concernedly by the motionless figure. “Oh, dear God,” he breathed on seeing the bloodstain on Henrietta’s forehead. Then he felt the pulse at her throat. She was still alive! He could see an open door farther along the passage, and guessed it must be her room, so he gathered her carefully into his arms to carry her there. Jane followed as he laid Henrietta on the bed. Then he dampened a handkerchief in the water jug on the washstand, and returned to examine the bloodstain more closely. By now the castle was in an uproar, but because the room was at the end of the wing, no one passed the open door. Jane leaned intently over Marcus as he gently wiped the blood from Henrietta’s hair. He saw immediately that her loose hair had almost certainly saved her from much worse, possibly even fatal injury, and he recalled what Russell had said to him on the quay about a series of mishaps having befallen Henrietta. This was certainly no mishap, for she had been deliberately struck with the candlestick.
    He sat on the edge of the bed, taking in the rich tangle of her raven hair, the thickness of her long dark lashes, and the pale perfection of her complexion. His glance lingered too on the gentle curve of her breasts beneath the soft stuff of her nightgown. There had been a time when he’d caressed and stroked her until she arched against him with pleasure. A heady time. But so brief...
    Jane observed him shrewdly. His unguarded expression reflected feelings he would otherwise have kept hidden, and which he would certainly have striven at all costs to conceal from Henrietta herself! Kit was right, the lady wraith thought, the handsome marquess was no more exempt from emotion than Henrietta herself. There was hope!
    Old Nick chose that moment to glance up from the depths of Hades to see how things were progressing, and was appalled by what he saw. Things were going far too well for the ghosts, and the end of his hundred years of amusement suddenly seemed in sight. This time he wisely resisted the temptation to do something precipitate, and instead retreated thoughtfully to ponder the situation.
    Marcus spoke to Henrietta. “Henrietta? Can you hear me?”
    She didn’t respond.
    He took her left hand in his and began to rub and pat it persistently. “Henrietta? Can you hear me? Henrietta?”
    As she began to stir a little, Jane carried Rowley swiftly behind the lacquered Chinese screen that shielded the washstand and adjoining dressing room from view.
    Marcus spoke again. “Wake up, Henrietta. Please open your eyes!”
    Her eyelids fluttered, and she smiled. “Marcus?” she whispered drowsily.
    “Yes, it’s me. Wake up now.”
    “Is it time to go?”
    He gazed at her. “No, sweeting, it’s just time to wake up,” he said softly.
    Her eyes opened and she smiled again. “Oh, it’s so good to be with you like this ...” The words trailed away on an uncertain note as she began to recall.
    “It’s all right, don’t be afraid,” he said quickly. “I found you lying in the passage. You’d been hit with a candlestick. Do you remember anything?”
    “There was a dog, a King Charles spaniel...” Her glance went to the ceiling, and she bit back any further explanation.
    Marcus’ eyes cleared. There had been a dog, and if it didn’t belong at the abbey, then clearly it must belong to the intruder. He was still puzzled, though. Why had he been able to hear it when Russell couldn’t?
    Henrietta struggled to sit up. “Someone was here, a—a cloaked man!”
    Marcus put reassuring hands on her arms. “I know, but you’re all right