The American Heir(14)

"The tower is locked up tight all the time. What with it having the   dungeon in it and all, it's impenetrable once it's locked. I checked the   doors when I came on shift. They were locked tight."

Which was vaguely reassuring.

We stored all security footage for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I   asked the guard to review the video. We ran back over the footage from   the Ghost Tower for the last few hours. Nothing. Completely clean. No   apparitions, otherworldly or human.

I could have written Haley's sighting off as a symptom of pregnancy or   an overactive imagination brought on by exhaustion and the events of the   day. But she'd never struck me as the flighty type.

"I'm going to the tower to check it out." I realized I had no weapon and   nothing better than the light on my phone to light my path. And no  idea  where anyone kept a flashlight around here. I asked the guard for  one.   





 

He gave me a confused look. "You mean a torch, sir?"

"Yeah, a torch." If I remembered my British correctly.

He found me a flashlight and, over my protests, called the security   guard on duty patrolling the grounds to meet me at the tower.   "Procedure, sir."

I took the keys to the kingdom with me and met the other security guy at   the tower. We stared at each other a minute before grinning.

"I feel like I'm in an episode of Ghost Hunters," I said.

He laughed, obviously relieved to see I felt the same way. "Don't give   them any ideas, sir. They've been wanting to come out and set up their   equipment in the tower overnight for years. The old duke wouldn't hear   of it."

"The late duke didn't believe in ghosts?"

"No idea, sir, whether he did or didn't. Didn't like people he didn't know hanging about, that much was certain."

I considered the Dead Duke almost a demon in his own right. A ghost   would have been a perfect companion for him. But he was a practical,   logical, diabolical man from everything I could tell. Not the kind prone   to believe in spooks.

"It seems like having a good verified ghost or two would be good for the castle's reputation," I said.

The security guy considered the idea. "Having a bona fide ghost might   have drawn too much attention for the late duke's tastes. Too many   people wanting a look around, if you know what I mean. All I know for   sure is that the Ghost Tower has been off limits for as long as I've   been here. No one allowed in at any time, and the key kept tightly   clasped in his grace's cupboard."

I frowned.

The guard laughed again. "The old duke was one on his own, sir."

It took me a second to translate. One of a kind.

I nodded. "He certainly was."

The guard didn't know how right he was.

"I don't believe the duchess would like the idea of a verified ghost   much, either. If she keeps seeing unexplained lights, we'll have to call   them out just to put her mind at ease."

"You don't believe in ghosts, sir?" Given my reluctance to enter the   tower, he seemed surprised. "If the duchess is afraid of them, we   wouldn't want proof of them, would we? In her state, too, we wouldn't   want her to have a fright."

His concern for Haley and the baby was touching. Haley had been busy winning absolutely everyone over.

"I've never seen sufficient proof ghosts exist." Even if they did, I   wasn't worried about them. There were no records of poltergeist at the   castle, and they were the most dangerous kind, weren't they? We were   certainly no Amityville.

The first guard had been right. The tower was securely locked. Even with   the key, it took some effort to get the door open. I made a note to  get  a locksmith to come put some graphite in it so it would work  better.

Inside, we flipped on the lights. The tower had been wired for only   basic electricity and the bare minimum of light fixtures and electrical   outlets. The light bulbs were ancient yellow incandescent bulbs that   seemed to struggle to penetrate much of the darkness.

The tower smelled damp and dusty. Like any hundred-plus-year-old   building. It reminded me of the dank, musty smell prevalent in the   basements of the Seattle underground. It was eerily quiet. Our footsteps   echoed on the stone floors.

It was easy to imagine the smell of fear in here. A man could go crazy   imprisoned in the dark of this place for months on end. His rush from   sanity aided by all the ghost stories that I was sure were invented to   help his slide into insanity along.

The guard and I checked the first floor. Including the dungeon, which   was not lit. We didn't go down into the cells. We used our torches to   light them as we did a quick scan of them. It was a miserable place with   the chill of evil around it. I shivered and convinced myself the chill   was the result of the cold night.

"Easy enough to see how a prisoner could go insane locked down there, sir."

I peered into the dungeon along with the guard. "Yes, it is."

After leaving the dungeon, we climbed the narrow spiral stairs and   checked floor by floor. I wasn't sure if it was just me, but I detected   the faintest scent of a familiar cologne from my childhood in the   staircase. I went cold. "Do you smell something?"
   





 
The guard inhaled deeply. "No, sir." He looked apologetic. "But my allergies have been acting up lately."

I nodded, unsettled. My mom had always liked the scent of that cologne.

The guard was no help. Maybe I had imagined it. But it felt like someone   had been here very recently. It was hard to tell in the dim light. I   made a note to ask Gibson if anyone had been in the tower in the last   few days. I was of the same opinion as the guard in the control room.   Without a key, this place would be almost impossible to break in to,   especially without being noticed or caught on camera.

After declaring it safe and empty, we locked it back up. The guard went   back on patrol. I returned to the castle to report to Haley. But what   was I going to tell her? That she'd imagined something? Or had actually   seen a ghost?

I knew her door would be locked. But her room adjoined mine. I belatedly   realized I hadn't locked my door in all the excitement. There was   brilliance for you. Some protector of the realm I made. I went to her   room through mine.

She wasn't expecting me. I found her standing in front of the mirror   with her back to me, her lavender-tipped silvery hair softly spilling   over her shoulders. She wore stiletto heels that gave her a good four   inches of height. From the back, she looked naked. Except for the   telltale jeweled strap of a pair of quarter-million-dollar thong panties   that sparkled with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires of every   shade. The best part of all was her shapely butt, round and firm and   pale, the most perfect jewel of all.

Her eyes went round, reflected in the mirror when she saw me. "I was just trying them on. Did you catch a ghost?"

I shook my head, bewitched by the sight of her. If I'd known a woman   could look so beautiful in jeweled lingerie, I would have bought her   some for our wedding night. "Nothing. The tower was quiet and empty. The   security cameras didn't register any activity, either. Human or   paranormal."

"Don't you need special cameras like Lazer had at Wareswood to catch   ghosts in action?" As she turned around, the firelight caught the facets   of the jewels on her bra.

She sparkled like a damn fairy from a dream. She was beautiful and   almost more ethereal looking than any ghost I could imagine. The bra,   which would have fit her original measurements perfectly, was now   slightly tight and shoved her dazzling, jeweled breasts up enticingly.

It was hard to keep my eyes off that bra and those breasts.

She smiled at me. "What's the matter? Never seen a woman in jeweled underwear before?"

"On a runway. Not up close and personal." And not mine.

Damn, where had that thought come from? How much mine was Haley?



Haley

Of course he'd seen women in jeweled underwear before. And not simply in   the pages of a magazine. He was Riggins Feldhem, billionaire Duke of   Witham. Not some ordinary guy. Before me, he had supermodels falling all   over him. Probably still would if not for me. But the flirting was too   good and too much fun to stop. And I wouldn't be one-upped. Not with   this fabulous jeweled lingerie fueling my confidence, my pregnancy   hormones crying for sex, and my heart calling for Riggins.

"How about a pregnant woman in jeweled underwear?" I leaned back against   the dresser and crossed my legs against the building ache, bracing   myself with my arms. Pregnancy may have made me tired and nauseated. But   it also gave me a desperate need for sex, and the only man I wanted  was  in front of me now.