Page 71 of Frankly, My Dear

“No!” Selene screamed, dropping her poker and pulling on the arm of the “ghost,” which was definitely not a ghost by the feel of the flesh under the gauzy veils. “No, I won’t let you kill him!”

She struggled with the killer, and the knife grazed her bare arm from elbow to wrist. She cried out with pain but would not release the murderer until the knife clattered to the floor.

“You salope!” the woman exclaimed. “You bitch! For that, you will die, too.”

“Selene! Sacrebleu! What are you doing here?”

Surprised, Selene looked over her shoulder to see James rush in from the hall, where he must have been hiding. Her eyes darted quickly between him and what was obviously rolled-up material under the bed sheets.

Her momentary surprise gave the killer an opportunity to slip out of her grasp and escape through the gallery door. James hesitated for a long moment. “Are you all right?”

When she nodded, he ran after the specter. He came back a short time later, alone, and glared at her as if she were to blame for the escape of his assassin. She probably was.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked icily, lighting an oil lamp. Rain dripped from his hair and plastered his shirt and trousers to his body from that short excursion into the storm.

“Saving your life, you ungrateful clod.” But Selene couldn’t be angry at James. He was alive. Thank God. The “ghost” hadn’t killed him as she’d feared when she entered his room.

But she was wounded, she realized, almost in slow motion, as she felt a throbbing in her arm. A warm liquid—blood—was running down her arm to her fingertips and dripping to the carpet, like raindrops.

Finally a delayed reaction set in. A strange lassitude swept over her in waves, and Selene began to shiver violently, then slid to the floor.

James rushed forward, then dropped to his knees beside Selene. “Selene! Mon Dieu! You’re bleeding.”

Quickly he lifted her limp body in his arms and placed her in the center of his bed. Her skin, clearly visible from neck to toes through the transparency of her rain-wet gown, was ice cold. He pulled her soaking garment over her head and threw it to the floor, unaware of her nudity, his focus being on her safety. Taking some warm blankets from a chest at the foot of the bed, he wrapped her tightly, then brought a bowl and water to the bedside table, crooning to her unconscious body the entire time, “Do not worry, chérie. You will be fine. I will take care of you.”

She awakened when he was almost done cleaning her wound, which, luckily, was not deep.

“You gave me a scare, chérie,” he said in a low, husky voice.

“So did you, James,” she said softly, her eyes watching his every move as he wrapped a thin strip of linen around her forearm and tied the ends with a neat knot.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek lightly, pulling away almost immediately, fearful he would not be able to stop if he did more.

Her eyes widened with surprise and confusion. “I thought you were dead when I first came into the room. You were setting a trap for the ‘ghost,’ weren’t you?” she stammered out, still shivering with shock.

He nodded. “This has been going on for the past year, though more frequently of late. I have posted guards about the house and grounds, but thus far the intruder has evaded my traps.”

“But who is it? Surely, not a ghost.”

“Giselle.”

Selene gasped. “Your wife? I thought she was dead.”

“She is. It’s someone pretending to be Giselle.”

“Victor…it’s Victor who’s behind this, isn’t it?”

He shrugged with uncertainty. “Probably.”

“Why does he want you dead? What does he have to gain?”

“Victor doesn’t need a motive for killing. He hates me. Always has. But he also fears that my father may leave me something in his will when he dies. As if I want anything from the bastard!”

“But, James,” she wailed, “you could have been killed tonight.”

“And you, as well.” He clenched his jaw tightly. “That was very foolish of you, attacking a dangerous murderer like that.” He stood and studied her, trying to understand why she would risk her life for him.

Selene inched herself off the bed and stood shakily.