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Felicity remained beside Lord Falcon’s bed, hoping he would tell her more about the things he feared. But the old lord’s eyes closed. His head sank deeper into the pillows, and soon his breathing became slow and rhythmic.

When Simmons entered the bedroom and saw that his master was asleep, he picked up the tray and whispered, “Lord Falcon may sleep for several hours, miss. Since Mrs. Atherton has said it may take some time to prepare your suite of rooms, you may want to explore the gardens.”

“Thank you, Simmons.” Felicity stood and followed him out of the room. “I believe I’d like to see some of your lovely countryside. I’ll just get my cloak.”

She hurried to her room and stopped in her tracks. Her trunks had been opened and her belongings scattered everywhere. Gowns, undergarments, books and papers. All had been shuffled.

A servant perhaps hungry for valuables? Or…something more sinister? Hadn’t Lord Falcon warned her?

She whirled as the door opened. Bean, the young serving girl, looked around in stunned surprise. “Oh, ma’am. What have ye done?”

Felicity quickly gathered her wits. “Made quite a mess, I’m afraid. I was…looking for my cloak.” She crossed the room and rifled through her gowns until she located it. “Here it is.” She turned. “I’ll just clean up this mess.”

The little maid held out a hand. “Mrs. Atherton would have my head if I let you clean your own room. No, ma’am. I’ll have it set to rights in no time.”

With a sinking heart Felicity turned away. As she strode down the steps of the ancient castle, she felt an icy thread of fear snake along her spine. Once again she had the feeling that she was being watched. But though she turned and studied the windows, she could see no one looking out.

She shook off the dread and moved out at a fast pace until she had passed through the gates marking the entrance to Falcon’s Lair. She would save the garden for another time. Today she needed to put some distance between herself and this strange castle.

Though the sun had broken free of the clouds, there was a bite to the air, and Felicity gathered her cloak around her as she walked. She had gone some distance when a cart came clattering along the lane. As it drew abreast, a boy of about ten years studied her with interest.

“Goin’ to Falcon’s Way, ma’am?” he asked.

“Is that the village in the distance?”

He nodded. “Would you like to ride wi’ me?”

“Thank you.” She climbed in beside him and said, “My name is Felicity Andrews. I’m from America, visiting Lord Falcon.”

“Ye’re stayin’ at Falcon’s Lair?” He shot her a look of astonishment before flicking the reins. The swaybacked mare leaned into the harness, and they started off at a slow, plodding gait.

“Haven’t you ever met a guest of Falcon’s Lair before?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Me mum says there’s evil up there and a curse on all who dwell within.”

“You can’t believe that,” she said with a smile.

But her smile faded when the boy said solemnly, “Can’t argue wi’ truth. Lord Chandler is gone and Lord William more dead than alive. There’s those who say old Lord Falcon will be next. It’s the Falcon curse.” He pulled up beside a row of shops. “I’ll leave ye’ here, miss.”

“Thank you.” Felicity stepped down and walked slowly through the village, smiling at the young mothers who hurried by with babes in their arms and the older women who swept their stoops or sat in the late-morning sunshine, gossiping with their neighbors.

She passed by the bakery, the milliner, the apothecary.

Though the people nodded as she walked by, she felt their curious stares as well.

No one stopped to speak with her. She had the feeling that they already knew where she was staying and had decided to keep their distance, in case she had been tainted by the Falcon curse.

Felicity kept up a brisk pace as she returned to the castle. The sun had taken refuge behind the clouds, and the air had grown colder. Despite the warmth of the hooded cloak, she shivered and wished she hadn’t gone so far.

As she passed through the gates, her footsteps faltered. Though she could see no one, she had the strange feeling that she was not alone.

“What did you think of our village?”

She halted, recognizing Gareth’s voice directly behind her. She would not spin around and let him see her fear. Lifting her chin at a haughty angle, she challenged, “Why didn’t you come along and see for yourself?”

“I cannot go beyond these gates. I am bound to this land,” he said simply.

She did turn then, and the look of pain in his eyes caused her breath to catch in her throat. She instinctively lifted a hand. But before she could touch his arm, he stepped back out of reach.

So, he didn’t like to be touched. She filed the knowledge away in her mind.

“The villagers are fearful,” she said softly.

“It isn’t you they fear.” He gave a shallow laugh. “They have heard of the ghost that haunts Falcon’s Lair. It is only natural for them to fear what they cannot understand.” He studied her a moment, then said, “What about you, little happy face? Why don’t you fear the ghost of Falcon’s Lair?”

“Perhaps I do. Or perhaps I don’t believe in ghosts.”

He studied the glowing cheeks, the wind-tousled hair, and felt a wave of pure desire that left him shaken. It pulsed through him, adding to the aura of heat that seemed to shimmer around him.

His voice lowered. “Oh, I’m real enough. But you needn’t fear me. I will never harm you.”

“What keeps you here?” she asked softly.

“Unfinished business.” His eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the castle.

She followed his gaze but could see nothing out of the ordinary. When she turned back, she saw that he was watching her with a look that made her heart race. It was a hungry, wolfish look that nearly devoured her.

She caught up her skirts, determined to get away from him.

But before she could take a step, his hand shot out.

Though he didn’t actually touch her, she could have sworn that she felt the curl of his fingers around her wrist, stopping her in midstride.

The heat was shocking in its intensity. It raced along her arm and sent the blood pulsing like liquid lava through her veins.

He saw the widening of her eyes. Just a flicker. His admiration for her went up a notch. Though she was afraid, she didn’t panic. And though she stiffened, she didn’t struggle. Didn’t fight. She merely stood toe-to-toe with him and shot him a look that dared him to step over the line.

He’d always loved a dare. It was his weakness—and his downfall. After all, it was a dare all those centuries ago that sent him into this limbo.

He shifted his gaze to her mouth. What would it be like to kiss her? To brush those soft lips with his? It could be an experiment. To see just how far he could push the boundaries. Of course, it was forbidden by the Fates. But then, hadn’t he always broken the rules?

Hers was a mouth made for kissing. A dangerous temptation. Would she yield or would she fight? Either way, it would prove very satisfying.

Felicity had never felt like this before. Though he made no move to touch her, she was completely helpless to move. She was quite certain that she didn’t want him to kiss her. And yet she knew that if he did, she would not fight him. In fact, she would be lost.

Feelings, strange, compelling feelings, churned through her, leaving her dazed and reeling.

Gareth was annoyed with himself. The power of his mind wasn’t enough. He desired a physical touch. But that would mean losing control. And strength.

With extraordinary effort, he managed to break off the thought, releasing her.

“You must beware, little happy face.” He took a step back and then another, until the rush of heat subsided.

“Of what?” She blinked.

She suddenly found herself alone.

The walk back to the castle required only a few minutes, but to Felicity it seemed an eternity. She was unaware of the wind that sighed through the trees and the clouds that scudded across the sky, blotting out the sun. In her mind she was still looking into Gareth’s eyes, seeing a tormented soul.

As she climbed the steps, she shivered against a sudden chill. Before she could reach for the front door it was opened by a servant.

“Thank you,” she said absently.

The girl nodded and bowed.

Felicity turned, throwing back the hood of her cloak as she did, and collided with a solid wall of chest. The man had to be well over six feet, with strong hands that caught roughly at her shoulders to keep her from tumbling backward.

“I say. Not quite the way I’d hoped to welcome a guest to Falcon’s Lair,” he muttered.

She looked up to see dark eyes glinting with amusement.

“Sorry.” She took several deep breaths to compose herself. “I didn’t see you.”

“Obviously.” He allowed his hands to linger a moment longer before lowering them to his sides. “I’m Ian St. John, nephew to Lord Falcon, as well as his physician.”

“I’m—“

“Felicity Andrews,” he finished. “Everyone here is talking about you.”

He turned as a beautiful blonde in a billowing gown descended the stairs and paused beside him. “Miss Felicity Andrews, this is William’s wife, Honora.”

“Honora, Lord Falcon spoke of you.” Felicity extended her hand. “How nice to meet you.”

The woman’s mouth curved into an imitation of a smile, but there was no answering warmth in her eyes or in the limp handshake she offered.

“I expect you’re hungry.” She studied Felicity thoroughly from head to toe. What she saw apparently alarmed her, for her frown grew more pronounced.

Felicity nodded. “I must admit it’s been a good many hours since my morning meal with Lord Falcon.”

Honora’s tone was frigid. “He said you’d been in to see him.”

Felicity unfastened her cloak. “Yes. We had a lovely time. He couldn’t have been more charming.”

“I must warn you, Miss Andrews. Such things tire him. From now on, I hope you will check with me before you intrude on his privacy.”