Smuggler's Kiss by Marie-Louise Jensen Read Free Book Online Page B

‘As you wish. We’re probably going to have a few locals on their way to the local tavern looking over the wall there,’ he pointed to a gap in an overgrown wall. ‘You need to appear from the outhouse over there,’ he pointed to the doorway we’d emerged from, ‘and flit along the lawn here. You can flit, can’t you?’
    ‘Being a ghost isn’t something I’ve a vast deal of experience of,’ I told him acidly.
    ‘Clearly you never had a governess you needed to get rid of,’ Will responded.
    ‘I didn’t need to play the ghost.’
    ‘I bet you didn’t. Frightened her off without dressing up at all, I should think.’
    ‘I find I can dispense with your observations on my character,’ I told him, provoked to anger. ‘You don’t know me.’
    ‘I don’t need to and I don’t want to.’
    ‘That’s entirely reciprocated, I assure you. I’d be very pleased if I never set eyes on you again. Now are we going to play this ghost or are we going to stand here bickering all night like children?’ I demanded.
    Will’s eyes glittered in the darkness as he stood facing me. He was breathing heavily and I realized he was as angry as I was. I just wasn’t sure why.
    ‘How do I even know I can trust you with this?’ he asked at last. ‘How do I know that you won’t deliberately sabotage this whole thing to expose us?’
    I didn’t reply at first. I couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed my mind. I summoned up a wan smile. ‘Can you imagine the scene?’ I asked as lightly as I could. ‘A ghost chasing some terrified local farmers, begging for help?’
    Will continued to regard me steadily with those hostile, glittering eyes until my own dropped, half-ashamed of what my plans had been. ‘This isn’t a game. We hold many lives in our hands.’
    ‘Criminals,’ I said defiantly.
    ‘Wrong. Men who are trying to survive and support their families in difficult times.’
    I shrugged. ‘Men are only poor if they are lazy or knaves,’ I retorted. ‘Everyone knows that. There’s always honest work to be done.’
    Will’s fists clenched. ‘You’re spouting the convenient platitudes of your class,’ he hissed. ‘Abominable! These are phrases you’ve heard from the wealthy and privileged. You know nothing of work or wages. You do not have the slightest idea of what it entails to support a family on a few shillings a week.’
    I stared at him in silence. I felt sure of my views. I’d heard such things said a hundred times, at dinners and at balls by men and women who knew the world: the poor deserve to be poor. They are poor because they’re lazy and ignorant and can’t be helped. No one had ever challenged this within my hearing. And yet somehow I didn’t feel comfortable saying these things out loud to this angry young man. Instead, I challenged him on safer ground: ‘What do you mean, my class? You are gently born, don’t deny it!’
    ‘I won’t deny that I was born to as much privilege as you, perhaps more,’ said Will. ‘But since then, I’ve seen things that have made me … ’ His voice tailed off as we both heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps and voices in the distance.
    ‘They’re coming. Can I trust you to do this?’
    ‘This, but nothing more,’ I told him. ‘I’ll make you no promises beyond the next half hour.’
    ‘Very well. Get ready now. And you’d better hope neither of the real ghosts turns up tonight.’
    ‘There’s more than one?’ I asked, feeling an icy finger of fear stroke my back.
    ‘Oh, did no one tell you?’ asked Will, cheerful once more. ‘Not only is there a murdered bride who can’t rest, but a headless spectre is said to stalk the grounds.’
    I knew that I shouldn’t ask. The less I knew the better. But I couldn’t help myself. ‘A headless spectre … ?’ My voice trembled.
    Will stepped closer, his face lit up with a ghoulish pleasure. ‘He creeps up behind you, just as you think you’ve escaped him. He grabs you and tries to