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  He realized that between him and the door lay—not a light or a vision—just the hint of a disturbance in the air. The closest he could come to describing it was a faint shimmer or ripple, akin to the distortion of heat waves above a fire.

  His steps quickened. This faint glimmer was what he had seen last night in the Great Hall, not light, when he had followed Lilah through the darkness. He burst out the door and began to run, following the indistinct ripple that stayed steadily before him. She had gone to the maze.

  Thunder rumbled; the rain soaked him. And Lilah was out here in only her nightgown. She would come down sick. She could slip on the wet grass. She could lose herself in the maze. He charged into the tangled hedges. The glimmer flowed, not toward the center, but away from it, and he turned in that direction.

  Lilah hadn’t gotten far. He found her in one of the blind alleys, the thick shrubbery looming around her, tiny branches reaching out like fingers toward her. She was on her knees beside a bench, her nightgown soaked through, her hair streaming water. She sobbed, hands over her face, her whole torso shaking under the force of her sobs.

  “Lilah!” He ran to her.

  She lifted her head. “Con. Oh, Con!” She threw herself into his arms, clinging, her face buried in his chest.

  Con wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him, searching frantically for what to say, what to do, to ease her pain. He murmured her name and kissed her head, saying helplessly, uselessly, “Shh, darling, it’s all right. I’m here. Don’t cry. You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

  “No,” she moaned, her arms tightening around his waist. “It’s not. You don’t know—”

  “Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong. What can I do?”

  “Nothing.” She pulled back, gazing up into his face. Her eyes were huge and wounded in the darkness. Rain ran down her face, mingling with her tears. “There’s nothing anyone can do. It’s in me. Oh, Con, it’s true! It’s all true!”

  “What’s true?”

  “The séance. This house.”

  Nothing she could have said would have surprised him more. For a moment, he could only stare at her, speechless.

  “I’ve been hiding and lying all these years.” Her words were rapid, panicked. “But it’s here and it—it’s going to take me over. It’s going to destroy me. It’s going to destroy us all.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  LILAH’S WORDS WERE met with a stunned silence. In the dark she couldn’t make out Con’s expression; she had no idea what he thought or felt. At the moment, she was too numb and drained to care. She shivered.

  “Lilah...” She felt his hand stroke her head, and she leaned into Con, wanting the heat of him, the steady thumping of his heart. He scooped her up in his arms. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you inside.”

  Con carried Lilah into the enormous kitchen and set her down on the wide stone hearth. Stirring the fire to life, he looked around and found a rough jacket hanging on a hook beside the door. He wrapped it around her. “This will help warm you while I get you something dry to wear.”

  Lilah watched him leave. The room seemed colder without him. She wrapped the coat more tightly around her and huddled close to the flames. She couldn’t stop shivering. It wasn’t just the wet clothes that chilled her. It was that horror of waking up in the maze, thunder rumbling through her and that thing, that power, pulling at her. In that moment, she knew. She remembered it all.

  When Con returned, he carried a pile of blankets and clothing, and he had obviously changed into dry clothes. His shirt, hanging outside his trousers, was simple, with loose sleeves and unfastened ties at the neck. His hair was damp and tumbled. He looked vaguely disreputable. Utterly desirable.

  Con set a stack of folded blankets beside her. Atop it lay a nightgown and robe. The thought of his hands sifting through her gowns and undergarments sent a shiver through Lilah that owed nothing to being chilled. How could she be thinking such things at a time like this?

  “Put these on. I won’t look.” He took the jacket from her and began to make tea, carefully keeping his back to her.

  Lilah whisked off her nightgown, feeling exposed—and strangely a little aroused by that—and put on the dry one. Wrapping her dressing gown around her, she pulled a blanket around her as well and sat down once again by the fire.

  Con brought her a cup of steaming tea and pulled up a low stool to sit down facing her. He sipped at his own tea, watching her, then set the cup aside and leaned forward. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Start with what happened tonight,” he told her, taking one of her hands in his.

  “Clearly I walked in my sleep again. I must have taken the key out of my jewelry box and unlocked the door, unbelievable as it seems.”

  “Were you dreaming?”

  “I—I’m not sure. I was aware of being...pulled. I couldn’t quite catch my breath, and I had to go somewhere, though I had no sense of where it was.”

  “Had to? You dreamed someone was forcing you?” Con asked.

  “No. I needed to. I felt driven.”

  “And then...”

  “Suddenly there was a clap of thunder, and I woke up. I saw where I was, and I realized that I’d walked in my sleep again. And...perhaps it was the storm, the thunder and lightning, I’m not sure, but suddenly I remembered.” She pulled in a shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly. “Oh, Con, I’ve been so wrong and foolish. So blind.”

  “It’s all right.” He took her hands between his. “What did you remember?”

  “What happened that night. At the séance.” She wet her lips. She wanted to tell him, needed to, yet she could hardly force out the words. “A man Aunt Vesta knew—someone she loved, I think—wanted to contact his great-uncle. It was important to her, so she wanted me there. She used to say that the spirits yearned to be with children. I didn’t want to go. The séances scared me—the dark and the candles and the ghostly talk.”

  “Sounds enough to scare any child.”

  “But she was insistent. It meant so much to her. And I...” Lilah pressed her lips together, pushing back the tears. “I loved Aunt Vesta. You were right. She was the closest thing I had to a mother. She was fun. She came to my pretend tea parties. She liked to braid my hair. She said she had always envied my mother’s hair.”

  “I’m sorry she left.” Con raised her hand to kiss it. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with her feelings for you. That séance drew such attention. She wanted the life that beckoned.”

  “The fame and fortune. I know.” Lilah sighed. “And that was my fault. The séance was... I did it.”

  “Did what?” Con frowned. “Caused the window to explode? Lilah, as you said, that was exaggerated. It was the storm.”

  “No. It wasn’t.” Lilah braced herself, looking Con in the eye. Her heart pounded madly. “There was rain that night, but it wasn’t a ferocious storm. At least, it wasn’t before the séance.”

  Con stared. “You’re telling me you think a vengeful spirit appeared? That you brought it back from the dead?”

  “Do you not believe me?”

  “Of course I believe you.” Lilah relaxed, warmed by his swift response. “Lilah, I know you don’t lie. And if you believe a spirit appeared, so do I. But I don’t understand. Why do you think you’re at fault?”

  “I was the one who attracted it. There was something wrong with me.”

  “Lilah, no, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “There was. I knew. I felt it. It had gotten worse that last year. That was when I started sleepwalking. I had no memory of what I did, but sometimes, when I was jarred awake in the midst of it, I had that feeling I had tonight. I felt...pulled.”

  “And in the séances?”

  “It was the opposite there. I felt as if I were drawing something ou
t. I’d have a tightness here.” She tapped her chest. “Like a fist clenching inside me, pulling this...this power into me. I was responsible, but I had no control over it. It controlled me.”

  “You were a child, Lilah. You didn’t know what to do. If there is blame, it should be Vesta’s. She used you.”

  “I’m not sure she realized how much was my doing. She thought it was all her. I was more a good-luck charm.”

  “Exactly what happened at this séance?”

  “Aunt Vesta had the servants set up a table in the Great Hall. I sat between her and Father. There were several people there, and we all held hands. When Aunt Vesta called to her spirit guide, that knot began in my chest. It grew stronger and tighter, and that power began to flow into me. It spread throughout my body, expanding and rising. It was like floating in the ocean and being lifted by a wave. It was exhilarating.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “But it frightened me, too. As it poured into me, the rain outside turned into a storm. I tried to fight it, to push back the energy, but I couldn’t. I felt as if it were going to consume me, smother me. Then it exploded, flooding out of me like water breaking through a dam. That’s when the window broke and the storm rushed in. I don’t know what happened after that because I fainted.”

  “It must have terrified you.”

  “It did. I didn’t wake up until the next afternoon. My father came into my room, and—oh, Con, the expression on his face.” Unconsciously Lilah squeezed his hand. “He was happy and relieved, but also shocked, even a bit awestruck. Beneath it all was fear. And that frightened me even more. After that, he never looked at me the way he had before. It was as if he loved me, but I was a stranger to him. A dangerous stranger.”

  “I’m so sorry, love.” Con reached out, pulling her into his lap. He cradled her, his head against hers. “He was worried about you, afraid for you, not of you.”

  “Perhaps. But he gave me to Aunt Helena.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I’m sure he thought he needed to get you out of this house for your own protection. You’d been walking in your sleep, and then this wild séance rendered you unconscious for hours. No doubt he feared that if you stayed, something even worse might happen to you. If you were away from this ‘force’ and under the care of your aunt Helena, not his sister, Vesta, you would be safe.”

  “You’re kind. But there’s no need to feel sorry for me. My father and I had never been close before that either.” She sighed, nestling into him. “How could I have forgotten such a thing? I thought I remembered it, but it was all wrong.”

  “You had a horrifying experience. You wanted to forget it. So you created a better memory.”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore. I feel as if I’ve built my life on a foundation of sand. Has everything I’ve believed been wrong? Who am I really? What if this thing overtakes me again? It controls me. I cannot keep myself from walking in my sleep. I have no power over it or over myself. I fear that it will consume me, and I—I won’t exist anymore. That I will be nothing but an empty shell, a body, and inside me will be only...it.”

  “Nonsense,” Con said crisply, taking her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes. “Being mistaken about a childhood memory doesn’t make you someone else. Whether Lilah, Delilah or Dilly, you are and always have been you. You have spine. You have principles. You’re steady. You’re calm. You’re skeptical. You think things through. None of that changes.”

  “I sound a dull sort.”

  “Anything but. You’re also clever and beautiful and adventurous.”

  “Adventurous? Really, Con...”

  “You are,” he insisted. “You’ve just tried to avoid that the last ten years.” He curled his arm around her again, gently pushing her head back against his shoulder. “Nothing is going to take you over. You are stronger than any force. And if it tries to harm you, I won’t allow it.”

  Lilah smiled. “Ah, well, then, I feel better.” Her voice was teasing, but the truth was, she did feel better. She trusted Con. And somehow she believed him—with Con beside her, she could fight any battle. It felt so good, so right, to rest here in the circle of his arms, as if...as if she belonged here. That was a thought that should have shaken Lilah to the core. But strangely it did not. What she felt was freed. Even buoyant.

  She had been much ruled by her mind these past few years—her memories hidden, all her actions, her attitudes devoted to creating a personality of reason and control. Perhaps it was time she let her instincts have their way.

  She sat up and looked at Con, taking in those leaf-green eyes, the mobile, sensual mouth, the jet-black hair that tumbled around his face. His morning beard was showing through, giving his well-modeled face a hint of roughness that made him even more desirable. Lilah reached out to cup his cheek.

  Con’s eyes widened when she touched him, but he said nothing, his body utterly still beneath her. Lilah stroked her thumb across his cheek, following its path with her eyes. She caressed his lip in the same way, luxuriating in its velvet smoothness. She could see the pulse leaping in his neck. She dragged her thumb down his neck to rest on that hard, fast pulse, awakening an answering throb deep inside her.

  She leaned in to kiss him. Con’s fists clenched in the fabric of her gown, his body taut and unmoving, but his mouth welcomed her. Warm and soft, hungry but patient, his lips moved on hers. Lilah thought she could sit here all night kissing him. But she wanted more.

  Lilah pulled back and gazed into his eyes. “Take me to bed, Con.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  IT WAS A wonder he didn’t choke on his lust. It surged in him so hard and fast. Con wanted nothing more than to do as Lilah asked. No, as she commanded—which made it all the more arousing. For a few minutes, she had been almost broken, her confidence shaken, but here she was, Lilah once more, sure and compelling. The depth of his need for her was frightening. It was also almost unbearably erotic.

  “Lilah, no...” he murmured. How the devil was he supposed to resist this?

  “Don’t tell me you don’t want to.” She wiggled her hips, proving her point as his traitorous flesh leaped in response.

  “You’re upset. You’re acting impulsively.”

  Her lips curved up in a knowing way that staggered him. “I am.” She stood up and stretched her hand out to him. “Come.”

  Con followed her. They climbed the stairs, Lilah before him, and Con could not look away from the sway of her hips, the delectable curve of her derriere. It would be wrong of him to make love to Lilah. He’d promised her, and Con never broke a promise. But he’d never before been faced with a force as strong as the desire clawing at him now.

  At the top of the stairs, the door to Lilah’s room stood ajar, the dark interior beckoning. He was having more and more trouble remembering why he could not do this. Con paused in the doorway. Stepping inside seemed to be crossing a line, an action he could never call back. “Lilah, no. I promised you I would not.”

  “I release you from your promise.” Lilah gave him that soul-stealing smile again and laid her hands on his chest. Their heat seared through his shirt; he ached to feel them against his skin.

  “You will hate me,” he murmured.

  “I don’t think so.” Her hands went to the hem of his shirt, gathering the cloth and climbing upward.

  When she reached his waist, she slipped her hands beneath the fabric. He jerked as if he’d been stung, and reached out to grasp the door frame on each side—he wasn’t sure whether it was to hold him back or to hold him up. He dropped his head, resting it against hers, drinking in the scent of her even as he struggled to retain the last remnant of his control.

  “Think.” He made a final effort. “You’ll regret it.”

  “I won’t.” Her hands glided over his ribs, circled his nipples. She went up on her toes, her mouth seeking his.

  And Con
was lost.

  He seized her by the waist and pulled her into him, holding her hard and fast as his mouth consumed hers. All thought of codes of conduct, gentlemanly behavior, even honor, were swept aside by desire. He had to have her. And he would make damn sure she didn’t regret it.

  Unwilling to let her go, Con lifted her and walked into the room, pushing the door closed with his foot. This time undressing was an easier task, with only their hastily donned clothes to whisk off. The first time Con had enjoyed seeing Lilah naked in the light of day, but the darkness now was seductive, entangling, heightening his senses. The sound of rain on the windows mingled with Lilah’s faint murmurs and moans, sweet and soft in his ears.

  Her skin was like velvet beneath his fingertips. He wanted to linger over every inch, but he wanted even more to feel her beneath his lips. He ached with need, yet it was so sweet he savored it. The empty bed that had so alarmed him earlier was now an invitation, and he made his way to it, falling back upon it and taking her with him. He loved the weight of her body on his, the feel of her against him all the way up and down.

  He slid his hands down her back, curving over her rounded bottom and her thighs. Slipping a hand between their bodies, Con edged his fingers between her legs and had the satisfaction of her opening to him. Her slick heat was enough to drive him mad, but wanting more, he rolled over onto his side and began a long, thorough exploration of her body.

  Every muffled gasp, every moan, every movement of her body in response sent another shaft of desire spiraling through him, his hunger building and building until he thought he must explode. But still he held it leashed to have the pleasure of making love to her, the barbed thrill of watching her take what he gave her.

  Lilah circled her hips, urging him on, and only then did he begin to hasten the movement of his fingers. He watched her, his own flesh tightening in response, as she arched up, pressing herself against his hand, then trembled as the pleasure took her.