Ghost of Christmas Past Read online

  THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST

  The Star Elite Series

  Book Eight

  By

  Rebecca King

  UK English Version.

  Cover Design by Melody Simmons from eBookindiecovers

  The Ghost of Christmas Past

  By

  Rebecca King

  © Rebecca King 2015

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PROLOGUE

  10th December

  Rupert heaved an impatient sigh and watched his warm breath fog the cold air in front of his face. He reluctantly turned his attention back to the stained glass window in the old church and gritted his teeth to stop his impatient epithet from escaping. He felt as though he had been staring at the depiction of the Sermon on the Mount for weeks. He struggled to contain the urge to get his fob watch out for the hundredth time and count the minutes before Thea, his bride-to-be, was due to arrive.

  The wedding day had been meticulously planned to ensure that everything ran as smoothly as possible and, so far, everything had gone well. Rupert and his best man Kieran, had arrived on time to greet the congregation. When they had left Bainbridge, the bridal carriage had been waiting to bring his bride-to-be, Thea, to the church. She had been scheduled to arrive some twenty minutes after him. Unfortunately, nobody had stopped to consider that there might be fresh snowfall last night. As a result, there was inevitably now going to be a short delay in her arrival given that the roads were now laden with snow which had iced over in the sub-zero temperatures. It was so cold inside the old Norman church that Rupert could only hope that the congregation didn’t freeze to death before she arrived.

  With Christmas only two short weeks away, the December chill had settled over the country with a vengeance and been encouraged by heavy snowfall and hard frosts. Although the church was festooned with holly and bright red ribbons, the heady scent of pine did little to settle his nerves and had instead started to make him feel a little nauseated. Cold had already begun to permeate his bones to the point that his fingers and toes had gone numb and he was fairly certain that wouldn’t be able to stop shaking when the time came for him to have to put the ring on his bride’s finger, but it would not be because of nerves. He shifted his weight to try to bring some sense of feeling into his feet and studied the door to the ante room blankly while he tried to calm his thoughts.

  The congregation behind him murmured quietly and waited in anticipation for the social event of the year, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn and look at them. He drew in a deep breath and began to count backward from a hundred as he studied altar and tried not to fidget, much less think about the issue that plagued him. Boredom pushed it upon him anyway and his thoughts turned toward the one problem that he least wanted to think about.

  “Are you alright?” Kieran whispered.

  Rupert slid him a glance. “Be glad when it is all over,” he growled fervently. He clenched his fists and fought another growl when Kieran merely grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “The snow shouldn’t cause too much of a delay,” his best man murmured as he took his fob watch out. Even from upside down Rupert could see that Thea was ten minutes late. “Besides, it is fashionable for the bride to be a few minutes late.”

  “We are all going to get frostbite if she doesn’t get a move on,” he grumbled without any hint of anger. He slid Kieran a rueful look and fought the urge to smile.

  It wasn’t the idea of marriage that made him uncomfortable. It was the heavy weight of guilt over the events of last night that gnawed away at his conscience. He was certain that any moment now lightening was going to strike him down for being a fornicator.

  A dark scowl settled over his brow as he tried to remember exactly what had happened last night, but failed miserably. The more he tried to remember, the more confused he became until now, he wasn’t sure what to think.

  Although he had severed all contact with his ex-mistress, Barbara, several weeks ago, he was fairly certain that he had spent last night in her arms. However, the beautiful, refined features of his fiancée lingered in his dim and distant memories, only he couldn’t quite make out if it was wishful thinking or really his fiancée, Thea, who had climbed into bed with him sometime in the early hours of the morning.

  Despite the headache that continued to pound behind his eyes, and the presence of the vicar before him, Rupert felt his wayward body respond as the memory of last night’s frolics began to settle into more solidity. In all of the time that he had been with Barbara, she had never moved him as powerfully as she had last night; and he had never, ever, gotten so carried away that he had forgotten to take steps to prevent a child. He closed his eyes and sent a prayer heavenward. The consequences of that particular folly would haunt him forever, especially if he had created a child with his mistress during their last night together. His new wife would never forgive him, and Barbara would have her talons in him forever.

  Had Barbara built the passion deliberately in an attempt to persuade him to keep her in his life in spite of his new bride? He wouldn’t put it past her but, in all honesty, no matter how dedicated a lover Barbara had been last night, he was in love with his fiancée, Thea, and from this morning onward no other woman was going to occupy his bed but her. He shook his head, took a deep breath and tried desperately to recall last night’s events bit-by-bit.

  Around midnight, having imbibed far more than was wise on the night before his wedding, he had finally made his way to bed. His best man, Kieran, had practically ordered him to do so, but had been almost as unsteady on his feet as Rupert himself. Somehow, together, they must have made their way to their respective rooms though because he could distinctly remember that he had fallen onto the bed and tugged his boots off while he had been flat on his back. He could clearly recall the heavy thumping noise the boots had made as they had hit the floor.

  At some point he must have fallen asleep because he had woken up sometime later to find himself no longer alone. His alcoholic slumber had been broken by the response of his wayward body to the small hands that had been sliding down his chest. The feel of the softly rounded curves pressed flush to his side had been a temptation he had found impossible to ignore. In spite of his dozy state, he had reached out for her and drawn her beneath him with an urgency that he had never felt before. He knew it wasn’t a dream, but who the hell had it been? He could distinctly recall that it had been dark within the bedroom. The fire had long since died down to embers, and it had created insufficient light to penetrate the dark shadows within the room. Throughout it all, the woman he had made love to had been buried beneath the covers, and him, and he couldn’t quite remember whether he had looked at her or spoken to her.

  “Are you alright?” Kieran whispered. His soft whisper broke into Rupert’s determined contemplation and made him jump. Rather than answer, Rupert nodded and continued to probe his memory for more details of just what had happened last night.

  He knew that the woman’s hair had been long because the long tresses had curled around his wrist as he had slid his hand into her hair to hold her head still for his kisses. Now that he came to think about it more closely, the feminine curves against him had felt a littl
e different though. He frowned at the altar and tried to remember the body he had made love to last night in a bit more detail. Barbara had long, fairly straight dark hair, was short in stature and could only be described as buxom. As a widow twice removed, she had more than enough experience to know how to pleasure a man. However, last night, the hands that had explored the dips and hollows of his chest had been hesitant. They had continued to roam over his chest until desire had forced him to grab them and hold them still while he removed the shirt and breeches he hadn’t bothered to take off when he went to bed.

  He had been unable to see her in the darkness, but his body had known exactly where she was. Now that he came to think about it, he was fairly certain that the legs that had wrapped around him had been longer than Barbara’s, and the body that had driven him so wild with desire had been firmer and more willowy than his redoubtable ex-mistress. What happened after he had settled over her could only be described as sensual, to say the least. Now that he was able to consider the details with more clarity, he could confidently declare that the woman he had made love to last night had not been Barbara. Last night, the dip of his lover’s waist had been narrower, and her breasts had been more of a perfect handful rather than overly large. In addition to that, the grasping hands that had swept over his back had been searching and loving, rather than the slack pawing Barbara usually did.

  Immediately, his thoughts turned toward his last known altercation with his ex-mistress. She had declared that she would do whatever it took to stop Rupert finding happiness with his wife; that he could go ahead with the wedding but Thea would never own him. He had ushered her out of the door mid-flow, but had been stunned at the utter arrogance of the woman. She had clearly felt confident of her position in his life to feel that she could call at his ancestral home, uninvited and unannounced, and issue warnings the way that she did. Although his fury had eventually cooled, her words still rang in his ears and he found it difficult to discount them as idle threats from a spurned lover. Had she left the area when he had thrown her out of the house? Or had she remained nearby and crept into the house once everyone had gone to bed? As far as he knew he didn’t have any other old lovers in the area who felt confident enough to break into his house and climb into his bed, and there was certainly nobody else in the house last night whom he had even the remotest interest in.

  However, he just couldn’t see that Thea would do such a thing. Why would his future wife even think about approaching his bed before they were married, especially given that they would share the marriage bed tonight? Couldn’t she have waited one more night? He was a little perplexed at that thought; amused, but at the same time puzzled. Although his logic warned him that Thea was a lady and would never contemplate wandering into any man’s bed in the middle of the night, deep in his heart he wanted it to have been her. Now that he thought through the love making a bit more carefully; and it had been love making not sex, things had been different when he had first slid into her. She had gasped and lain perfectly still beneath him rather than give him orders as Barbara usually did. Had there been a barrier to bar his entrance? In all conscience he couldn’t remember, but he could distinctly recall that after his initial intrusion he had stopped long enough to coax her to accept the reins of passion and ride with them all the way to fulfilment.

  He wished now that the passion hadn’t raged so fiercely because he couldn’t recall anything other than a tide of pleasure so strong that he had been unable to assuage the hunger that had left them both gasping and wanting more. The strength of her release had brought his down upon him with a swiftness that had left him reeling and it should have been enough; but it wasn’t. He would usually have stopped and fallen asleep but, for whatever reason, last night seemed to have been beyond his control in so many ways. Their bodies had barely cooled before the undeniable passion had surged again, and it had been nearly dawn before he had gathered her into his arms and fallen asleep with her tucked protectively against his side.

  To his utter consternation though, when he had woken up a couple of hours later, he had been all alone in the huge bed.

  “You are frowning,” Kieran whispered chidingly. “I know you don’t want this but if you greet your bride to be with a look on your face like that, she will start to cry and they won’t be tears of happiness.”

  “I just want to get this over and done with,” Rupert bit out and fought the urge to glance at his fob watch.

  “Smile, you have half of the village watching.”

  The smile Rupert aimed at the vicar didn’t quite hide the worry in his eyes, but the vicar misread the reason for the fear and merely smiled kindly at him.

  “Not long now. I think that the carriage must be on its way.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Four Years Later

  Rupert stared at the broadsheet in his hand and felt the noise and hubbub within the busy tavern fade into the background. Sight, sound, feeling, everything was suspended for that brief moment in time when he realised what the date was. The edges of his vision clouded; the entire focus of his being was firmly locked on the date: 10th December. He stared blankly at the bold, black writing against the yellowed pages and immediately felt himself drawn back to his deepest darkest memories.

  His mind went blank and his battered heart began to race. He tried to block out the pain and tore his gaze away from the damning words printed so boldly on the front of the daily newspaper, but found his eyes drawn back to them again and again. The fragile paper crumpled beneath the strength of his tightened fist, but he could still see the words that were now indelibly printed on his mind. When he realised what he was doing he slapped the broadsheet back onto the table and stared blankly down at the battered table-top.

  “What is it?” Luke demanded from his seat opposite. He frowned at Rupert’s suddenly stark face and picked up the broadsheet. He smoothed out the crumpled pages and studied the front cover closely when Rupert didn’t even appear to have heard him. Around them, the other men at the table exchanged frowns at the sudden change in Rupert’s previously affable persona, and turned watchful eyes on Luke, who merely shook his head and handed the broadsheet to Jacob.

  Jacob didn’t say a word and merely studied his friend carefully for several moments before he looked down at the paper in his hands. A quick glance at the date confirmed what he already suspected; it was the anniversary of the carriage accident that had robbed Rupert of his bride-to-be. He studied Rupert’s face closely. The only outward sign of the man’s deep distress was the tightly clenched fists that now lay on either side of the ale mug that rested on the table before him.

  In all of the years that Jacob had known his colleague he had only gotten Rupert to talk about that fateful day once, and even then the man had been out of his mind and rambling because of the amount of alcohol he had consumed. He only had to look at Rupert’s face now to know that his friend was reliving the bitter memories of a happy day that had gone horribly wrong. Given that there was little he could say or do by way of offering comfort, he had little choice but to stand back and allow his friend to deal with his grief in whichever way suited him best.

  “Are you alright?” Harry demanded as he lifted Rupert’s ale mug and took a suspicious sniff of its contents.

  “I need some air,” Rupert growled. He pushed roughly away from the table, not bothered in the least to leave three of his colleagues staring after him.

  Only Jacob didn’t bother to turn around; he merely waited until Rupert had disappeared out of sight before he heaved a sigh and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table.

  “He has bad memories of this time of year. Just give him time.”

  Harry, Jacob and Lucas had all been in the army and the Star Elite long enough to understand the destruction it could wreak on a person’s life. Questions hovered over the table but none of them voiced them; they were fully aware that a man’s business was a man’s business. If Rupert wanted them to know he would tell them. If not, then they just had to be p
atient and wait for the time when he did want to confide in them, or respect his wishes to keep it private and be there in case he needed them.

  Rupert stood outside in the shadows and sucked in a deep breath of the frigid night air. The raucous sound of laughter and chat coming from the tavern echoed in his ears but he paid no attention to it.

  If it isn’t bad enough that it is that time of year again, it has to be snowing as well, he thought morosely and tipped his head back to study the thick snowflakes that drifted gently toward him. He hated snow.

  “Are you alright?” Jacob asked from beside him. Rupert glanced down at the mug of ale his friend held out to him and took it with a nod of thanks. The meagre warmth the amber liquid brought him as he swallowed it was temporary and did little to banish the horrifying memories that refused to be appeased at this time of year. Usually he could go two or three days without thinking of the macabre scene that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Of late though it seemed that regardless of where he was, every thought and feeling he had was focused around her; or the memory of her.

  Theadora Weatherby. Thea.

  His love. The woman he had wanted to make his wife but who had instead been cruelly snatched from him in the worst possible way. He closed his eyes against the now familiar rush of pain and rested his shoulders against the brickwork behind him while he tried to gather himself. He was aware that Jacob was watching him but couldn’t find the words to assure his colleague that he would get through this battle – eventually.

  “It will get better as time goes on,” Jacob sighed. He had no idea whether it would or not but he felt as though he had to say something.

  Rupert shook his head. “Why doesn’t it though? I mean, it has been four years now and it gets worse not better.”