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Silken Shadows
by Jennifer St. Giles
ISBN: 0425217949

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CHAPTER ONE

1880
Dartmoor’s End, England

Following the light, salty breezes over the grass strewn dunes, I left the bustling village shops of Dartmoor’s End, seeking to watch the sun’s fiery dance over the waves and the birds frolic in the wind.  I hadn’t been able to spend another minute of the afternoon feigning interest in the latest wares from France, no matter how rich the silk or delicate the lace.  The Sea Sirens kept whispering my name, making me wish I could fly across the sea and find them. 

Over the past year my solace in fashion had faded and the sea had become my friend, always welcoming me and listening to my heart, giving me hope that life wouldn’t pass me by forever.  That one day Gemini Andrews would sail away to a future as full and blessed as the ones my sisters, Cassiopeia and Andromeda, had found here in Dartmoor’s End, despite the harrowing trouble we’d lived through.

I began watching the sea the day after Captain Deverell Jansen had married Lord Alexander Kildaren to Andromeda on a ship.  It had been glorious, with the sunset painting the sky a blazing swirl of reds and blues and turning the sea into a pool of liquid gold.  A fresh breeze, tangy with salt and seasoned with the scents of wood and sunshine, had blown gently over my face as the waves had rolled the ship beneath my feet, much like a mother’s kiss and a cradle’s rock.  It was the first time I’d ever been at sea and I’d loved the feel of it.

Sometime after the ceremony, when everyone had been merrily congratulating the happy couple, I had wondered to the far end of the ship, doing my best to position myself so not a hint of land crowded into my view.  To that end, I’d climbed on a tall crate that put me comfortably above the deck where I could watch the last visages of the sunset across the horizon of the sea.  I’d wanted to know what really being at sea would be like, with nothing but water surround me, and not just the short distance we’d anchored from Dartmoor’s End for the wedding.  I’d heard the wind calling my name as it whistled through the furled sails.

Gemini….Gemini…Can you hear me, Gemini?

“Yes,” I said softly, not hesitating to answer.  “I’m listening.  I’m here.”

“I can see you, but who are you speaking to?”  The deep toned voice nearly had me jumping from my skin, not necessarily from its unexpected intrusion, but because I instantly knew to whom it belonged.  Captain Deverell Jansen.

I’d been hanging on his every word since boarding the ship.  Though I couldn’t remember every word he’d spoken to join Adrie in marriage to Alex, I recalled every nuance of feeling his voice had evoked in me.  The tingling, the vibrations.  The commanding lure.  And the dark gravity of it as well.  One that said heavy burdens rested firmly upon his broad shoulders.  Burdens that might not be so dragging if the two ghosts hovering over him would give him some breathing space.

I would have been drawn to him no matter what the circumstance under which I’d met him, for he was the most intriguing man I’d ever seen.  He didn’t need the latest fashion to impress and he didn’t need to expound upon any subject to be heard.  His mere presence did both long before his blue gaze stole my breath away.  So, it wasn’t just because he was the first person I’d met who had his own ghostly entourage that attracted me to him.  But it did double his attraction to me.

I’d seen specters many times before, sometimes in places of great sorrow, such as a battlefield, but mostly in houses.  I’d spent nearly all of my life ignoring them until last year when I’d become overwhelmed by one.  I shuddered as the memory of Flora McGowan’s ghostly screams and horrible death tried to steal back into my mind, and pushed it aside, clinging to the knowledge that I’d helped her spirit make peace with those she loved.

Some ghosts were like faded stained glass, beautiful, with hints of colors they used to be, and other ghosts were like dirty glass; either way I could see through them, but they always skewed what lay behind them. 

Over the years, I’d perfected the skill of looking at ghosts without letting them know that I saw them, and I glanced at the two old sea salts bouncing up and down behind Captain Jansen.  They were rubbing their hands together with glee, like two old pirates with a treasure chest.  One was as thin as a broomstick, the other as round as a tea kettle; and they were talking.

“Blimey, Pierre, the capt’n likes her don’t he?” the broomstick said.

“A beauty, mon ami.  But she’s a bit too young and proper to give Le Capitaine Diable his due.”  The kettle spewed a riotous burst of laughter.

Captain Devil?

“What due?” The broomstick asked, ghostly brows drawn.

The kettle reached out and whacked the broomstick’s wiry hair.  “What he needs tonight, knot head.  Faire l’amour.”

Heavens they were frank.  My cheeks flushed, as a flash of Captain Jansen kissing me much as I’d spied Sean kissing Cassie when they thought no one about.  Then my thoughts went further and what a night of faire l’amour with the captain might be like.

Captain Jansen chose that exact moment to move closer to me.  Sitting as I was on the crate put my knees on level with his chest and his face even with my bosom.  He laid his hand on the crate next to my knee, accidentally brushing it as he narrowed his eyes in concern.  “Miss Andrews?  Are you all right?”

I tried to speak but couldn’t.  Though the touch was but a brief second, the heat of his hand shot right through my skirts and raced up my leg, making my insides flip so hard that I forgot even how to breathe.

“Miss Andrews?”  His voice deepened and this time he caught my elbow in his grip.

More heat.  Hot, scorching, heat.  Heat that I’d never experienced before.

“Yes.  I’m here.”  I gasped in a deep breath of much needed air and inhaled his scent, a hint of leather and sea and something so enticing different from anything I’d smelled before that I had to resist the urge to bury my nose in it.  I drew in another deep breath.

This time his gaze leveled at my bosom and widened.  He seemed frozen for a moment then blinked and shook his head before he raised his gaze to mine.  “I can clearly see that you are, uh, here,” he said.  “But that wasn’t my question.  Either of them, actually.  I’d asked to whom were you speaking and if you were all right.”

“Forgive me, Captain Jansen,” I said, forcing my mind and body from the mutinous path the ghosts’ remarks, his scent, and touch had taken it.  “I am fine and if you must know, I was speaking to the wind.”

His mouth twitched a little, turning up on the corners slightly in amusement, but stiffly so, as if he were unused to the gesture.  “Do you often speak to the wind?”

“I never have before,” I said then glanced out over the darkening sea, yearning for things I couldn’t even name.  “But then it has never called my name before either.”

 He didn’t immediately reply, which brought my curious gaze quickly back to him.  I found him studying me, his blue eyes suddenly keen.  He had one brow raised in such a way that my nebulous yearning inside me sharpened...and ached, centering itself on him and the way he made me feel.

“The Sea Sirens,” he said, softly as if he were naming people he’d met.  “I suggest you stick beeswax in your ears and ignore that you heard them.”

“You sound as if you believe the ill-fated daughters of Alchelous are real, Captain Jansen.”

He didn’t deny my statement.  The humor that had moments ago pulled at the corners of his full, but firmly set mouth disappeared, leaving no trace of it in his dark gaze as he spoke.  “Many people travel the sea.  Some hear the luring song of the sirens, but few ever hear their name.  It’s said that if you heed their call, it will lead to a bad end.”

“A sailor’s death upon rocks hidden just beneath the surface of the sea?”  I asked, recalling the many tales I’d heard.

“There are worse fates than death, Miss Andrews.”

Whether it was the sudden gust of a cold wind that crept down my spine, or the chill in his voice, but I shivered in places that no fire could ever warm.  The captain was haunted by more than the ghosts over his shoulders.

“Have the Sea Sirens ever called your name?” I asked.

“All the time,” he’d replied, backing away from me.  Someone called to him and with a long last look at me, he rejoined the wedding celebration.  I stayed upon my perch awhile longer, listening for my name again, but all I could hear was his voice, rumbling behind me.  So I drifted back into the loving folds of my family and watched the captain from beneath my lashes, wondering more and more about the man and his ghosts. 

He’d sailed away that night after dropping everyone on shore but the crew of the Black Dragon.   And he didn’t return until Christmas, by then the Sea Sirens had called my name many times.  It was a Christmas I would never forget, for his kiss still burned upon my lips.  That was nine months ago.

I sighed as I crested the last dune, and pressed my fingers to my mouth, seeking to ease the ache that had only grown with the passing of the months.  I went to close my eyes, to give myself over to the heated memory of that kiss, but I caught sight of a ship newly docked, one with a black dragon gracing its bow.

Captain Jansen had returned.  My breath caught and my pulse leapt.  I wanted to rush back to the village and the docks to catch of glimpse of him, but I forced myself toward Killdaren’s Castle.  I had very little time to convince Cassie to have an impromptu dinner party this evening and dispatch the invitations.  I swirled around twice just so I could drink in the sun from every direction and then, rather than going back to the road as any proper young lady would, I ran headlong down the dunes to the shore.  I slipped off my boots, and sped barefoot through the damp sand.  The foamy surf grabbed at the ruffled hem of my lilac dress and rushed cool water over my toes, making my heart singing with anticipation. 

He was back!  And this time, more than one kiss would be mine.  I’d have to find a way to either get rid of or ignore the ghosts, though.  Their bawdy comments during our first kiss had left me just as addled as the hard press of his body against mine and the sweep of his tongue across my lips.

Upon reaching the castle, I hurried up the terrace steps to the French doors leading to the study.  They stood open, letting the fresh air and sunshine invade and warm the cool stone and dark recesses of Killdaren’s Castle.  Thanks to a special pair of spectacles that dimmed the bright edge of sunlight, Sean Killdaren, Cassie’s husband could now tolerate longer periods of daylight without suffering the debilitating headaches that had plagued the last eight years of his life.  He no longer slept away the day and stayed up all night studying the stars unless there was a particular astronomical event he relished seeing.  It was a joy to all that Darragh and Jarrett Killdaren, my three month old twin nephews, would have a father who could now share the warmth and adventures of the day as well as the secrets of the stars at night.

My bare feet made hardly a sound as I crossed the sun-warm stone of the terrace, so despite the lap of the waves upon the shore, I immediately heard grave-toned voices coming from inside the study and a chill rushed over my skin.  The shadows and pain from my cousin Mary’s murder, Flora McGowan’s, and other women from Dartmoor’s End had just begun to fade.  Sir Warwick had paid with his life, and over the past year it had been concluded that Constable Jack Poole had, too.  His chances of surviving the treacherous cliffs of Dragon’s Cove as injured as he was would have been slim to none.  I paused, gathering myself.

“Mr. Killdaren, I apologize for pressing this matter upon you and your wife, but the cruel murder of a young woman from our village and the disappearance of another necessitates drastic measures be taken.  The moment I heard from Dev what happened here at Dartmoor’s End, I had to come.  The Constabulary is desperate and thought perhaps you could lend your expertise on the matter.”

Dear God, my heart cried as the chill sweeping over me reached my blood.  It couldn’t be.

“Of course you had to come, Mr. Lincoln,” Cassie said.  Without even seeing her face, I knew from my sister’s shaken voice that she was frightened to the core.

“I’ll do anything I can,” Sean Killdaren said.  “You can count on that.”  The sharp edge to his tone, left no doubt that he would, even if it meant killing with his bare hands to protect his family.  “Use of the Druid stones and carving symbols on the victim, indicates Jack Poole survived and is preying upon the innocent again, though what you describe sounds different from what he did here.”

There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that if Jack Poole were alive, everyone I loved was in serious jeopardy.  He’d find his way back to Dartmoor’s End to make us pay, especially Cassie and Andromeda, the two people largely responsible for exposing and stopping the murdering constable.  With Cassie a new mother and Andromeda about to give birth any day now, the sisters that had protected me all of my life, were more vulnerable than ever before.  I fisted my hands, digging my nails into the soft leather of the white kid boots I held.  I had to do something.

Given my ability to communicate with ghosts, I was quite possibly the only one who really could help.  But the thought of communicating with another of Jack Poole’s victims, hearing their screams and their pain filled me with dread.  I hadn’t told anyone just how bad my experience last year had been.  When I heard Flora McGowan’s screams and had opened my mind to her ghost, I had physically felt the woman’s pain as if Jack Poole had had me tied and was ripping me from the inside out with the Medieval torture device.  The doctor’s assessment that I’d suffered a trauma so severe that my mind had closed itself off from the rest of the world and had put me in a comatose state had been more than accurate.

My stomach heaved and I shuddered so violently at the memory that I nearly fell to my knees upon the stone.  Forcing deep breaths into my lungs, I focused on what needed to be done.  I would have to go to where the woman had been killed, for I had a good idea that from the pain and need of Flora McGowan’s spirit, there was no rest and no passing to the peace beyond this world when one died under such circumstances.  Not without help.  Her spirit would be there, waiting for someone to help. 

“That’s what we were afraid of,” said the stranger Cassie had referred to as Mr. Lincoln.

Bracing myself for what I was about to do, I stepped through the open French doors, blinking blindly into the dimness as I left the bright sunlight. 

“As soon as I docked in Northrope—” said a fourth person who spoke for the first time from just beside me.  His deep voice vibrated my every nerve to life.  I stumbled in surprise.

“Careful,” Captain Jansen said, catching my arm in a firm, hot hand grip as he pulled me upright.  Only, he did so too quickly, making one of my boots clatter to the floor from nerveless fingers.  I bit my lip in consternation, sure I wouldn’t have fallen if I’d been left alone.  His intervention rattled me, giving me the appearance and the grace of a flopping fish.

“Are you all right, Miss Andrews?” he asked, coolly formal.

“Quite,” I assured him, but when I shifted to the angle he’d pulled me so that I could regain my balance, the hard jut of his knuckles brushed my breast.  I sucked in air at the fire shooting to my center and beyond.  My toes curled, digging into the soft wool of the Whittall rug.  He smelled deliciously of sun and sea and exotic spice.

He released me like he would a hot poker.  This wasn’t the first time my breasts had come in contact with a part of him.  There had been an accidental brush before.  Then the kiss at Christmas last.  That had ended with me pressed between him and a stone wall so firmly I’d never forget the imprint of both.  Still, it amazed me at how suddenly sensitive my breasts became when he was near.  How enlivened every part of me became, really.  There were parts I didn’t know were there before he woke them.

“Gemmie, wherever have you been?” asked Cassie.  “I thought you were in the village examining the new shipment of material from France.”

“I was, but the day was too bright to stay inside and I had to take a walk along the shore.”  As my eyes adjusted to the light, I swept the room with a glance, seeing my sister seated in a petite gilded wing chair by the hearth.  Sean stood nearby, appearing as if he’d paused in mid pace, a habit without which he never faced a problem.  Considering the number of problems my sisters and I had caused since coming to Dartmoor’s End, it was a wonder he hadn’t paced a rut into the floor.  The stranger stood in too dark a corner of the room for me to see him yet, and Captain Jansen’s ghosts were smiling at me from the ceiling with gaped toothed grins.

Cassie stood.  “Come help me ready some tea and sandwiches.  “Having just come from the ship, I am sure Captain Jansen and Mr. Lincoln must be starved.”

Captain Jansen pressed my boot he’d retrieved from the floor into my hand and I quickly grabbed it, all too aware of how juvenile my barefoot rush into the room must have appeared.  I knew very well that Mrs. Murphy, the lovingly plump cook who made Killdaren’s meals the envy of region, most likely already had a tea cart prepared with all manner of delicacies.  Cassie was trying to get me out of the room and away from the current conversation.  It rankled as well as touched my heart.  I knew she only wanted to protect me, but it still hurt in some way.    

“I think it more important for the conversation to continue and to let Martha attend to the tea,” I said, standing my ground.  Cassie blinked in surprise.  Perhaps I was being rude in the extreme since this was her home, but everyone had to realize that I was no longer a child.  “My apologies,” I said to the room at large.  “But I couldn’t help overhearing what was said.”  Heat swept over my cheeks at having to admit that I’d eavesdropped.  “Before my rude interruption, I believe you were saying something, Captain Jansen?”

A tense silence followed my brazen admission, and amazingly all the men were looking at Cassie as if needing her permission before progressing.  I met my sister’s gaze with determination and a silent plea.  My sisters and I had had a number of conversations over the past year about Captain Jansen’s insistence that he’d made a grave mistake in kissing me, that I was too young.  He made nineteen years of age sound as if it was barely a step above nappers.  My sisters’ advice had been to prove Captain Jansen wrong and she needed to see that it had to begin here.  “Please,” I said to her.  “You have to understand that after what I went through, I am just as much a part of this as you and Andrie.  If Jack Poole is alive then I too must know, for we are all in danger.”

Cassie sighed.  “Mr. Lincoln, this is my sister Gemini Andrews.”

“Miss Andrews,” he said, drawing my gaze as he crossed the room to take my hand.  I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t the ruggedly handsome man that I saw.  He was almost as tall and broad as my brother-in-law and the captain, but where their hair was dark as the night, his was as golden as the sun.  I had to adjust my boots to one hand before accepting his greeting and I thought I saw a bit of amusement spark in his gold eyes, but he didn’t seem to be laughing at me, so I took heart and grasped his hand firmly.  With his skin darkened by the sun, the man was a picture of shades of gold from head to toe.

“Mr. Lincoln,” I said, giving the slight curtsy the situation called for and tried to put the subject of discussion back on track.  I knew I had to prove myself.  I released his hand and stepped back, moving closer to my sister.  “I am sorry such grave circumstances bring you to our door.  Jack Poole must be stopped.  You said a second woman has disappeared?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure everyone has already asked, but what are the similarities between the two women?  The women who died here all had blonde hair and all sang like angels.”

His eyes widened in surprise.  “Well,” he said hesitantly.  “We hadn’t necessarily considered that there were any similarities.  The first woman was…well, worked in a tavern near the docks.”  His tone clearly conveyed that her reputation was far less than sterling.  “Sarah, the second woman, is the daughter of the vicar and teaches music.  But now that you ask, the only similarity I can immediately state is that they both have black hair and are petite, about your size.”

“Which is different from Helen, Mary, and Flora,” I said.

“Is it possible that it isn’t Jack Poole?” Cassie asked.

“That’s what I was about to bring up for question,” said Captain Jansen.  “As soon as I docked in Northrope and heard what had happened, I told the authorities what happened here and gave them Jack Poole’s description.  A thorough search of the area didn’t reveal any stranger or new-comer that matched his description anywhere near Northrope.  So, he is either, in hiding as has been since last year and no one has seen him—a somewhat unlikely scenario.  It is more believable is that Jack Poole has disguised himself, or we are facing a different killer altogether.”

“That’s one reason I came for your help, Mr. Killdaren,” said Mr. Lincoln.  “If you could come to Northrope, there’s a chance that you may notice some mannerism Jack Poole had that would expose his disguise.”

“You understand that I’ll need to secure my family and their safety before coming.  I’m not exactly sure what I could recall about Jack Poole,” Sean said.  “He was almost half a foot shorter than me, black hair and black eyes set a bit too close together, and a pompous ass.”

 I shut my eyes and recalled what I could remember of Jack Poole.  “He was particularly proud of his mustache that flapped every time a whiff of air passed by him,” I said.  “He was always pinching and twirling the waxed ends of it between his fingers.  And he had this funny little hitch to his walk.  Strutted like he was a peacock, but one whose spread feathers kept getting pushed back, so his upper body was angled uncomfortably back.  And he’d have scars.  From the way Andrie described…”

“Ahem,” Cassie interrupted, making me recall that it would not be exactly prudent to discuss how Poole had been stabbed in the crotch by a Medieval spike used for torture.  Not in front of the men.  My sisters and I hoped it had pierced his manhood and said so more than once.  “Gemmie’s description is perfect.”

“Which is exactly why I need to go to Northrope with Mr. Lincoln,” I said firmly.  “I can be ready almost immediately.  And once Sean has enough guards to protect everyone at Killdaren and at Dragon’s Cove, he can come as well.”

Everyone in the room reacted rather strongly.

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