Your Magic Touch (11 page)

She turned it on and gulped at what she saw. Thick cobwebs draped across the ceiling of the brick-lined corridor and along the edges of the walls. A zillion spiders must have been at work, and she hated spiders. She drank in several deep breaths to calm herself.

A bright flashlight swept across their faces before they could move forward.

“There you are,” said Sin Boy, coming out of the dim recesses of the corridor.

Frannie’s heart thumped happily and her annoyance fled like an ebbing tide.

Sinclair glared at Harrison. “You promised no more pranks.”

Harrison held up his arms. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Then who locked the basement door?”

“No clue. That’s why we came out through the wine cellar.”

Sinclair visibly relaxed his stiff posture as he turned to Frannie. “You okay?”

“I will be as soon as I see sunlight again.” She shifted her gaze to Harrison. Could he have planned this? Had he locked the door on purpose when he’d come down to find her? It fit his M.O. as the only practical joker in the group.

“How did you know to come and look for us?” she asked Sinclair.

“I couldn’t find you and when I found the ghost hunters, they mentioned you and Harrison had gone to investigate the basement. When I couldn’t open the door, I feared the worst,” he told her, worry evident in his eyes.

He was looking for her? A little sunbeam spread through her. “Can we get out of here now?”

Eventually they emerged from another secret door into the ginormous foyer. Frannie swung open the front door, allowing fresh air into the room. She took a moment to bask in the cool breeze and the remnants of the day’s sunshine.

Sinclair came up to stand beside her, and she marveled at the way his company made her feel safe and protected. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and she shivered. This time it wasn’t fear making her skin ultrasensitive. The memory of his kiss sent ripples of awareness throughout her body.

But she shouldn’t be reacting this way. Despite his many positive traits, one issue would always separate them.

She wasn’t just from the wrong side of the tracks; she was from the wrong side of the pedigree.

He was from the world of privilege.

She was from the streets.

He showed kindness to everyone, yet he managed to make her feel extra special. That didn’t change the fact that she’d been learning survival skills while he was learning etiquette and manners. The divide was insurmountable, wasn’t it?

He was just being polite, and she needed to remember that. Burying the flash of emotion his presence brought, she reluctantly eased from his grip.

It was time to move on.

“Thomas abandoned me in the basement. He has some explaining to do.”

Sinclair expected fireworks when he,
Frannie and Harrison caught
up with the ghost hunters in the dining room. Which, of course, was exactly where he expected to find them. Where else but at the dining table filling their stomachs with whatever delectable meal the Haliday Hall chef had seen fit to serve?

Delicious aromas wrapped their way around his senses. He suddenly found himself hungry.

Sinclair took the only seat left beside Frannie at the long table while Mrs. Drundyl placed salads in front of them.

Frannie didn’t pay any attention to the food. Her gaze was riveted on Thomas. “There you are,” she said in an accusing tone. “I see
you
found
your
way out of the cellar.”

With his head bent cautiously, he gave her a wary glance. “Sorry about that. Lost my way when the lights went out.”

Frannie muttered in a tone only Sinclair could hear, “Ran like a scared hen is more like it.” She speared a cherry tomato, and the juices squirted violently. She probably wished it was Thomas.

She frowned at her fork. “This is real
silver
silverware, isn’t it?”

He bit his lip. What could he say to that? “It’s not intended to snub you if it is. My aunt’s choice in china and cutlery is totally her own.”

“If you think you can bully me with crockery—”

“You’re angry because the silverware might be real?”

“No. I’m angry because—well—I just am. You’re you and I’m me and—”

“Look, Frannie. I’m just as much a guest here as you.”

“I thought you grew up at Haliday Hall.”

“My aunt and uncle welcomed me into their home after the death of my parents, but it’s no more my home than it is yours.”

“You’re an orphan?”

He shrugged, a little distracted by a slight movement in Frannie’s soft curls. “I’m a little mature for that term, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think you can ever get over the loss of your parents.” Her gaze narrowed. “But that doesn’t let you off the hook.”

“Gentlemen, if you will excuse us?” Sinclair pushed back his chair and rose to pull back Frannie’s. “If you’ll step into the hall for a moment, Frannie, I have something I wish to discuss in private.”

She gaped at him. “You can’t say whatever it is you want to say here?”

Sinclair’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“And you can’t wait until after I’ve eaten?”

“I’m afraid not. You wouldn’t like it if I did.”

Frannie let out a long, drawn-out sigh, but rose from her chair. “Fine. But it better be good.”

As she walked toward the doorway, she turned back to the ghost hunters. “Don’t eat all the Beef Wellington while I’m gone.”

The moment they entered the hallway, she snapped, “Now what was so important it couldn’t wait?”

Sinclair took a step toward her, and she backed up until she hit the wall.

“What do you want?” The pupils of her eyes dilated as her gaze met his.

“This,” he said, reaching a hand toward her.

“If you think I’m going to kiss you again, you couldn’t be more mistaken.” She held up her arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Removing the spider from your hair,” he replied as he quickly grabbed the tiny black arachnid and released it on the floor.

“A spider?” Her eyes widened, and she inhaled a sharp breath.

“Don’t worry. I got it.”

“You released it? What will keep it from going after me again?”

“Did you want me to kill it?”

“Either that or put me out of my misery.”

“I thought I had,” he said. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her appealing mouth and he leaned forward to steal the forbidden kiss.

Frannie took that moment to stomp on his foot.

“Ow.” He jumped back. “Why’d you do that?”

She smiled sweetly, too sweetly, before starting back to the dining room. “Spider.”

Because the ghost hunters intended
to continue investigating until the early hours, Frannie headed to her bedroom after dinner to fetch spare batteries for her cell and digital camera.

Preoccupied with thoughts about Sinclair telling her he was an orphan, she entered the Princess Room.

Perhaps life in some ways hadn’t been any easier for him than it had been for her. Perhaps she’d been wrong about him in many ways.

And she was glad.

They had a lot more in common besides the physical attraction flaring between them. He was an amazing man, and hope filled her heart.

A few brisk steps across the plush carpet led her to the side table where her spare batteries sat on chargers.

As she traded out the batteries, her hair stood on end. Electrically charged air raised gooseflesh on her skin, too.

The room wasn’t cold, so what was it? She glanced into the gold-encrusted mirror above the table.

Reflected in the mirror she saw a dark-haired female spread across the foot of the bed. Normally that wouldn’t scare the living daylights out of Frannie. But she could see through this diaphanous specter. She gasped and closed her eyes, thinking she was hallucinating, but as she slowly opened her eyes she saw her—it—again.

Pivoting, she faced her bed—and it was empty, although she could see where the bedspread had been slightly mussed. Maybe it had been an optical illusion? She turned back to the mirror, but now the foot of the bed was empty.

Icy dread snaked its way up her spine.

Then she heard a woman’s low moan.

Was that—had she—O.M.G.

It was an honest-to-heavens ghost.

Snatching up the needed batteries, Frannie bolted out of the room. Desperate to put as much distance between herself and whatever entity had invaded her bedroom, she sped down the hallway and descended the stairs, not thinking about where she was running, just determined to get away.

Blood pumping, skin crawling, Frannie paid no attention to anything around her until she collided with something, or rather, someone. She’d run right into Sinclair’s muscled chest.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sinclair, who pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair calmingly in one swift movement.

 If she weren’t still out-of-her-wits frightened, she would take a moment to bask in the comfort of his arms. The worst of her panic eased in his tender embrace and, Frannie had to admit, he was
really
good at tender.

“I just saw a ghost.”

Sinclair didn’t point out that
Frannie and the ghost hunters were supposedly at Haliday Hall to find ghosts.

He held his tongue because she clung to him, looking scared half to death, with her hands trembling and a wild expression in her eyes. “Do you want me to get the ghost hunters?”

She blinked, then slowly smiled, relaxing before his eyes. She stepped away from him and squared her shoulders. “I was thinking of a cab, but you’re right. We should call them to go investigate.”

Just a day earlier he would have been more than happy to call a taxi for her and see it carry her away. Now all he wanted was to comfort her. He admired the way she stood tall, ready to do battle with whatever had frightened her so much.

“The last time I saw them, they chased me out of the parlor.” Feeling a need to protect her, he took her small hand in his as he led her forward, and somehow it just felt right, as though her slender fingers belonged entwined with his own.

Frannie shot him a feeble smile, an attempt at a brave face. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as they entered the parlor.

There, the ghost hunters and Harrison were busy doing whatever it is that spirit investigators do when they’re trying to collect evidence. Thomas was the first to notice their entry into the room and he stopped talking mid-sentence. His eyes fastened on Sinclair’s hand wound around  Frannie’s.