Read Online His Dark Desires by Jennifer St Giles - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer St Giles
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making me shiver.
" Mère? " Andre's voice called for reassurance.
"I am all right," I told him.
"I am not all right," Ginette declared, her dark eyes angry and her cheeks flushed. "There is something happening to our home, Juliet. I feel it. Something evil!"
"Ginette's right," Mignon said, her eyes tearing. "Just before the trunk fell, I saw the shadow of a man appear behind you, Juliet. I blinked, disbelieving it, and the shadow disappeared. Then the trunk fell." She backed up several steps. "It was a ghost; it had to be."
"We have a murderous ghost!" Andre turned white.
"No," Mr. Trevelyan said firmly. "Ghosts don't set traps."
"Monsieur Trevelyan is right. There are no ghosts."
"How can you be so sure?" Mignon asked, surprising me by her challenge.
I opened my mouth to assure her, but the words wouldn't come. What about the incident at Blindman's Curve and the deep chill that had struck me? For the first time in my life, I didn't have a practical answer.
* * *
The rest of the day resonated with tension, making me thankful for Mr. Davis's invitation to the carnival. During an early dinner, we learned everyone planned to attend the affair, and Andre, finally showing some enthusiasm, invited Mr. Trevelyan to ride with us. Everyone strained to put on a happy face, determined to leave what had happened in the attic behind and to enjoy the carnival.
One jostle of the carriage sank my week-long efforts to think of Mr. Trevelyan as a stranger. His hard thigh pressed against mine, and the warm muscles of his arm constantly brushed my shoulder, rendering my clothing and the presence of my family little protection against his seductive spell. Right or wrong, I wanted to lean into him more to feel the things he awakened inside me. His ungloved hands rested in his lap and were more interesting than the passing scenery of magnolia trees and sprawling homes along the river. Though large and capable, his hands bespoke a man who enjoyed touching. The edge of my skirt lay against his leg and his fingers absently brushed the dark blue silk as he conversed with Andre, telling him about a traveling adventure. I felt as if he were touching me, softly, secretly.
"By stowing away on our father's ship, my brother and I got a full tour of the coast of South America before our mother got her hands on us back in port. Though she had us on our knees for a week in penance, sore knees were well worth the price."
"I would love to stow away on a real ship and see the world," Andre said with enthusiasm.
Mr. Trevelyan quickly curtailed Andre's notions. "My brother and I had special circumstances. My father not only owned the ship, but was captaining it as well, so we knew we were safe. I've heard stories of young boys being sold for slaves when caught as stowaways."
"Truly?" Andre asked, horrified.
"Adventure is like a two-edged sword. The very next year, the adventure we took was the last one we made together."
"What did you do, monsieur?" Andre pressed, completely captivated by Mr. Trevelyan's words.
"We went on a treasure hunt. Both Benedict and I were sure an island in the bay concealed buried treasure. We'd seen the lights at night from our manor's tower, our raft was ready, and not even the heavy fog could stop us. Luckily, my brother left a note of our plans with Katherine, our sister, so she wouldn't worry. I thought the note unnecessary, for I was sure we would find the treasure and return home before she awoke."
"Real pirate treasure? Like gold?" Mignon asked, thrilled.
Mr. Trevelyan nodded. "Exactly. We pushed from the shore with poles until the water became too deep. Then we used oars. The fog was so thick, Benedict and I could barely see each other across the raft. We argued. My brother wanted to turn back, and I wanted to keep going after the treasure. Suddenly a ship appeared out of the fog and smashed right through our raft. We floated until we were rescued, because my brother managed to lash us to a barrel I
" Mère? " Andre's voice called for reassurance.
"I am all right," I told him.
"I am not all right," Ginette declared, her dark eyes angry and her cheeks flushed. "There is something happening to our home, Juliet. I feel it. Something evil!"
"Ginette's right," Mignon said, her eyes tearing. "Just before the trunk fell, I saw the shadow of a man appear behind you, Juliet. I blinked, disbelieving it, and the shadow disappeared. Then the trunk fell." She backed up several steps. "It was a ghost; it had to be."
"We have a murderous ghost!" Andre turned white.
"No," Mr. Trevelyan said firmly. "Ghosts don't set traps."
"Monsieur Trevelyan is right. There are no ghosts."
"How can you be so sure?" Mignon asked, surprising me by her challenge.
I opened my mouth to assure her, but the words wouldn't come. What about the incident at Blindman's Curve and the deep chill that had struck me? For the first time in my life, I didn't have a practical answer.
* * *
The rest of the day resonated with tension, making me thankful for Mr. Davis's invitation to the carnival. During an early dinner, we learned everyone planned to attend the affair, and Andre, finally showing some enthusiasm, invited Mr. Trevelyan to ride with us. Everyone strained to put on a happy face, determined to leave what had happened in the attic behind and to enjoy the carnival.
One jostle of the carriage sank my week-long efforts to think of Mr. Trevelyan as a stranger. His hard thigh pressed against mine, and the warm muscles of his arm constantly brushed my shoulder, rendering my clothing and the presence of my family little protection against his seductive spell. Right or wrong, I wanted to lean into him more to feel the things he awakened inside me. His ungloved hands rested in his lap and were more interesting than the passing scenery of magnolia trees and sprawling homes along the river. Though large and capable, his hands bespoke a man who enjoyed touching. The edge of my skirt lay against his leg and his fingers absently brushed the dark blue silk as he conversed with Andre, telling him about a traveling adventure. I felt as if he were touching me, softly, secretly.
"By stowing away on our father's ship, my brother and I got a full tour of the coast of South America before our mother got her hands on us back in port. Though she had us on our knees for a week in penance, sore knees were well worth the price."
"I would love to stow away on a real ship and see the world," Andre said with enthusiasm.
Mr. Trevelyan quickly curtailed Andre's notions. "My brother and I had special circumstances. My father not only owned the ship, but was captaining it as well, so we knew we were safe. I've heard stories of young boys being sold for slaves when caught as stowaways."
"Truly?" Andre asked, horrified.
"Adventure is like a two-edged sword. The very next year, the adventure we took was the last one we made together."
"What did you do, monsieur?" Andre pressed, completely captivated by Mr. Trevelyan's words.
"We went on a treasure hunt. Both Benedict and I were sure an island in the bay concealed buried treasure. We'd seen the lights at night from our manor's tower, our raft was ready, and not even the heavy fog could stop us. Luckily, my brother left a note of our plans with Katherine, our sister, so she wouldn't worry. I thought the note unnecessary, for I was sure we would find the treasure and return home before she awoke."
"Real pirate treasure? Like gold?" Mignon asked, thrilled.
Mr. Trevelyan nodded. "Exactly. We pushed from the shore with poles until the water became too deep. Then we used oars. The fog was so thick, Benedict and I could barely see each other across the raft. We argued. My brother wanted to turn back, and I wanted to keep going after the treasure. Suddenly a ship appeared out of the fog and smashed right through our raft. We floated until we were rescued, because my brother managed to lash us to a barrel I
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