“My lady,” she finally gasped. She took a few tentativesteps forward. When the figure didn’t turn, Gillian wondered if it was like Aileen, oblivious to the living.
Gillian repeated herself, her voice stronger, and approached the specter. And then she felt it again, as she had in the courtyard when the ballast had hit her, a sudden drop in temperature, as if she’d walked into a pocket of winter. Gillian stopped, heart rising in panic. A glacial wind enveloped her, pressing in on her like a storm. Pain pierced through her temples. She doubled over, groaning, hands to her head.No! This wasn’t supposed to happen. The curse was broken!
The woman turned toward Gillian, her fine, slender hand reaching up to pull back her hood. And then something shoved Gillian hard from behind. The air left her as she surged forward, toward the cliff edge, but the cold pressed against her chest, held her suspended, stopping her from toppling over. The frigid air suffocated her, smothered her. Her hair stood out all about her head.
Gillian found her voice as the shove came again, hard enough this time to dislodge whatever force strove to hold her back. She screamed with all the fear and horror in her heart. “Nicholas!”
It was late when the knock came. Nicholas had been unable to sleep, so he had left Gillian and Broc snuggled together in bed to sit in his privy chamber and pore over court documents. It was the perfect antidote to sleeplessness, and he was nearly ready to turn in for the night.
“Aye?” he called.
The door opened and a servant stepped in. “My lord, I was sent to tell you about the countess.”
Nicholas dropped the parchment he held and glanced at the clock on his desk. It was nearly midnight. She’d been sound asleep when he’d left her over an hour ago. “What about her?”
“She was seen heading for the gardens.”
Nicholas frowned, standing. “Well . . . mayhap she had trouble sleeping and went for a walk.” He should go after her anyway. With all the attempts on her life he didn’t like her wandering around in the dark alone.
He strode briskly to the gardens. “Gillian?” The gate creaked as he pushed it open. He gazed about the foggy gardens but saw no sign of her. “Gillian?” When she didn’t answer, he followed the path, his step quickening with the new tempo of his heart. Why wasn’t she answering? Then he saw the postern door standing open, and his heart thudded to a halt.
The cliff path. Images of Gillian plunging to her death gripped him. He ran to the door, then stood on the path for a moment, looking right and left, wondering which direction she’d taken. Her scream shattered the night, ripping through every muscle in his body. “Nicholas!”
17
Nicholas broke into a run, heedless of the cliff’s edge. “Gillian!”Please let her be fine.The thickening fog obscured his vision, but the path before him was empty. He raced along it, shouting her name over and over, fingers trailing the wall beside him. The trail began to descend, moving away from the castle walls to the rocks and river below. He stopped, chest heaving.This couldn’t be happening.
“Gillian!” His bellow scraped his throat raw.“Gillian!”There was no answer.
He turned and started back up the path, feeling as if he were trapped in a nightmare. Why had she come here, the little fool?Why?
Nicholas kept walking, yelling himself hoarse, refusing to consider the obvious. She’d come out here for the ghost. He knew it. When he found her, he would shake her and shake her and put his fist through a wall because he might lose her.Please God, let her be fine.
He was back at the postern door. Several men-at-arms stood there, staring at him as if he had horns sprouting from his forehead.
“Did she come back this way?”
They shook their heads.
“Why are you just standing there? Get torches—I want the entire path searched. Now!”
They scattered like roaches from light. He swung back around, staring wildly out into the foggy night, at the cliff falling off sharply a few feet away. He could hear her last scream echoing in his ears. The beginnings of a black, irrational rage clawed at him.Why?There was no such thing as ghosts and magic. Why couldn’t she accept that? Why would she get herself killed over it? He couldn’t stand it.
He staggered to the edge of the cliff and yelled her name into the night.
A man-at-arms cleared his throat behind Nicholas. “My lord?”
Nicholas turned toward him, not really seeing him, his eyes searching for some sign of her everywhere he looked. Maybe she’d returned to the castle. Maybe he’d somehow missed her? Walked right past her? On a path that was three feet in width. Not likely.
“Should we send some men below . . . to search the river and rocks?”
“No!” Nicholas roared. “She didn’t fall. Search the castle. Maybe she went back inside.” Then why had he heard her scream his name?
The man quickly backed away. Rose appeared fromthe fog, eyes wild, auburn hair flying around her like a fury. Her dark eyes narrowed in on him.
“You killed her!” she screeched and came at him.
“Rose—” He caught her shoulders as she flew at him, nails raking him across the cheek. He shoved her away, and she fell onto the path. She flung her hair back and glared up at him. “I’ll see you dead for this!”
