Shades of Midnight (36 page)

Page forward for an excerpt from

Shades of Winter

Shades Of Winter

by

Linda Winstead Jones

writing as

Linda Fallon

New York Times Bestselling Author

Plummerville,

Georgia January 1886

Eve perched on the edge of the wing chair by the window and clasped her hands in her lap. On occasion she watched her fingers tapping against the skirt of her new dress as if the simple motion were fascinating. The simply cut day dress was blue, flecked with pale yellow flowers. The dressmaker, Laverne, said this shade of blue suited her. Lucien liked it well enough. Earlier in the day it had seemed a suitable choice for the occasion. Oh, she should have worn something brown! Something plain and muted that would help her to fade into the woodwork.

She had seen many frightening things, in her years as a ghost researcher, but nothing had ever terrified her this way.

Uncle Harold and Aunt Constance sat side by side on the parlor sofa. Constance Phillips was Eve's mother's younger sister. Eve didn't remember her departed mother well enough to know if she had ever been this sour. The loving way her father had spoken of the wife he'd buried too soon... she thought not.

Constance's daughters, Eve's cousins, stood behind the sofa with their backs straight and their eyes wide as they stared at Lucien. Both girls were dark-haired and green-eyed and well-dressed in matching shades of moss green. Penelope was eighteen, and pretty in a delicate way. Millicent was twenty, shorter and rounder in shape but still very attractive. The girls had a tendency to whisper in high-pitched voices and giggle until Eve wanted to throttle them both.

Lucien, the object of their attention at the moment, stood before the fireplace, a roaring fire blazing brightly behind him. If anything about this situation calmed Eve, it was watching Lucien. He had dressed nicely for the arrival of her relatives, in a new white shirt and his second best black suit. He had not cut his hair, but he had combed the longish dark strands. Six foot two, lean and handsome, he looked very dignified.

"I don't understand, Mr. Thorpe," Uncle Harold said crisply. "You make your living... how?"

"Lucien is a scientist," Eve said brightly. Informing her staid aunt and uncle that she was marrying a man who spoke to the dead on a regular basis would send them into a tizzy. Explaining to them that he made his living ridding houses of unwanted ghosts would not go over well. And she did want her wedding to be perfect!

"A scientist specializing in studies of..." Lucien began.

"It's all very boring," Eve said, standing quickly and stepping toward Lucien. "Physics and mathematics and mechanics and that sort of thing. I don't understand most of it myself." She put her arm through Lucien's, but when Constance gave her a disapproving glare Eve dropped her arm and clasped her hands together once again.

Lucien fought back a smile. Eve caught the twitch at the corner of his fine lips, the twinkle in his blue eyes. "Very boring," he said.

The last time she and Lucien had planned to marry, her only family and the man she loved had not met. Her aunt and uncle and cousins had arrived the day before the wedding, not several days ahead of time as they had for this ceremony, and Lucien... Lucien hadn't shown up at all.

That disaster of a wedding was behind them, now. He'd explained what had happened, and while she didn't like the idea that she'd been forgotten in favor of an interesting ghost, she had forgiven Lucien. It was just as well. She loved him so much more now than she had then. Their wedding would be all the more special, since their love had grown.

Aunt Constance shook her head. Her brown hair streaked with white had been piled atop her head, and tight curls bobbed. "Eve, what were you thinking to plan a January wedding! Spring is a much better time for such an event. There are more flowers to choose from, and travel is much easier for your guests, and personally I much prefer the fashions which suit warmer weather. Early summer would have been ideal."

How to explain to a prim woman that waiting was impossible? She and Lucien were already lovers. Hiding their closeness, sneaking about so no one would suspect the nature of their relationship, had been horrid. She wanted the world to know that Lucien was hers and she was his. She wanted to wake every morning to see his face beside her, not usher him out before dawn so he could sneak into his rented room in the Plummerville boarding house.

While Eve searched for an explanation, Lucien took her hand and raised it to his lips. "I must admit," he said as he lowered her hand, keeping it clasped easily in his, "the rather hasty timing of the wedding was my idea."

Aunt Constance's lips pursed tightly.

"I could not take the chance that such a wonderful woman might come to her senses and decide not to become my wife, when she could have any man in the world as her husband," he said. "I don't deserve Evie, and I want her to marry me before she realizes that for herself."

Aunt Constance seemed slightly mollified, Penelope and Millicent sighed in unison, and Uncle Harold rolled his eyes.

Harold Phillips was a reserved, quiet, decidedly difficult man. He wasn't at all mollified. "You will show up this time, won't you?"

Until now, no one had dared to mention aloud that Lucien had left Eve waiting at the altar, more than two years ago.

"Of course I'll be there," Lucien said, unsmiling. "Nothing could keep me away."

"Because if you embarrass my niece again," Uncle Harold continued, "I will kill you."

"Daddy!" Millicent gasped.

Aunt Constance patted her husband on the knee. "Now, now, Harold," she said calmly. "Eve is my dearly departed sister's child. If anyone kills Mr. Thorpe, it will be me."

"Please!" Eve said, growing concerned for the safety of her groom.

"It's all right, Evie," Lucien said with a smile. "Your aunt and uncle are being protective of you. I can understand that. And I don't fear for my life because I will be there. On time."

"You'd better be," Uncle Harold murmured.

"I really should be going," Lucien said. "My landlady gets concerned for me when I'm out too late."

His landlady was Miss Gertrude, the biggest busybody in town. She never got concerned, but she was
always
curious.

"I'll walk you to the door," Eve said. "Let me fetch your coat."

"Don't be long, Eve," Aunt Constance called after them, censure in her tight voice.

Eve collected Lucien's long, black overcoat from the entryway coat rack, and mouthed
I'm sorry
as she offered it to him. Aunt Constance had particularly sharp ears, so she didn't dare speak aloud.

Lucien grinned as he took the coat and slipped it on. Oh, she wished he were going to be here with her tonight! Instead of holding him close as she fell asleep, she'd be crowded into her bed with Penelope and Millicent. And she was quite certain they giggled in their sleep.

Lucien took her hand, opened the front door, and hauled her onto the small sheltered front porch of her cottage. "I must love you very much," he said softly, as he pulled her into his arms and the red door of her cottage closed behind them. The night was cold, but it was very warm here with Lucien's arms around her.

"You must," she whispered. "I imagine most men would have run hours ago."

"Immediately upon the arrival of your relatives."

"Yes."

He tilted her head back and kissed her quickly. "I will miss you tonight," he said, his wonderful mouth close to hers. "And tomorrow night, and the next. But on the night after that you will be my wife, and there will be no more slinking off to a rented room I don't want or need. No pretending that I don't crave you to distraction. No pretending that your bed isn't my bed."

"Soon," she said.

"Not soon enough to suit me." He lowered his head and kissed the side of her neck. That quick caress sent shivers up and down her spine. "You could sneak out tonight," he whispered. "Come to my room. I promise to have you back here well before sunrise."

"I can't," she answered softly. "If my aunt didn't catch me sneaking out, Miss Gertrude would surely catch me sneaking in."

Lucien groaned. "You're right. I know you're right. Dammit, Evie, I am a very patient man, under most circumstances. But where you're concerned I have no patience at all."

"Our wedding day will be here soon enough," she promised.

"Soon enough?" Lucien asked with raised eyebrows.

Eve smiled. "Soon, then. In just a few days I'll be Mrs. Lucien Thorpe, and no one will be able to run you out of this house. Not ever. I love you, Lucien," she said gently.

"And I..."

The door behind them flew open, and Aunt Constance appeared there, the light of the brightly lit entryway behind her. Eve and Lucien jumped apart.

"Eve Abernathy," the persimmon-mouthed woman snapped. "Get into the house this instant. You'll catch your death of cold out there."

"Good night, Lucien," Eve said as she backed toward the open door.

"Good night, Evie," he said with a soft smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Not likely," Aunt Constance said as she drew Eve into the warmth of the house. "We have so much to do tomorrow, I feel quite sure Eve won't have time for visitors."

"But..." Eve began.

"Good night, Mr. Thorpe." Aunt Constance slammed the door in Lucien's face.

"You needn't have closed the door so violently," Eve chastised gently.

"It's cold outside," Aunt Constance explained.

"And tomorrow..."

"Have you allowed that man to kiss you, Eve?" Constance interrupted.

"Well..."

"Don't say a word," Constance said with a raised palm. "I see the way you two look at each other. You have allowed him to kiss you." She tsked loudly, and then leaned in close. "Tomorrow afternoon, when Harold and the girls are busy with wedding preparations, you and I will have a little chat. Woman to woman. Since your mother isn't here, I suppose I must stand in."