The Ghost Who Loved Me

By Karolyn Cairns

The Duchess of Westerleigh was cruelly banished by her estranged husband amid a scandal not of her making. Tormented by her love for another and trapped in her empty marriage, Elizabeth Carlisle believes the castle will remain her prison until she agrees with her husband’s despicable plan to achieve an heir. As soon as she arrived in Wales, she begins to suspect all was not what it seemed. Westerleigh Castle shows hardly any sign of age despite being three hundred years-old.
Elizabeth always discounted the scandalous stories of the third Duke of Westerleigh’s ghost. She never believed the sordid tales of James Carlisle, and of how he prowled in the night, seducing every unwary lady who dared ever reside there. He made his ghostly presence known to her in ways that made her burn with an urgent need only his presence could fulfill.
James Carlisle was trapped by a witch’s three hundred year-old curse, forced to haunt the halls of Westerleigh until he at last found the means for escape. His descendant’s unwanted wife was seen as no better than the former ladies of the castle he used for his pleasure for centuries. He was determined she be no different until he sees her that first time, unable to believe she has the face of a woman he cruelly abandoned years before.
Together, Elizabeth and James must fight the demon within the castle walls to release him from the witch’s curse, succumbing to a desperate desire for each other that has lingered for centuries. Despite the conspiracies that swirl around them in both the past and present, they seek to unlock the secrets of his stolen legacy. Elizabeth is determined that James will at last be free of this unworldly spell, if not already becoming a prisoner of his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karolyn Cairns
• Release date: May 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311471307

Karolyn Cairns

Karolyn Cairns-Black lives in West Virginia with her husband Adam and three rescue dogs. She's busy at work. Its been a great year. She just wrapped up the fifth and sixth installment of The Wicked series in two parts, both available now.The follow up novels in The Viking Horde series are underway. Collin and Meghera's story titled A Viking's Heart is in works, the third in the series. The fourth installment about Joran and Allisande's son Storm is finished, to be published on the heels of A Viking's Heart. Two more novels are intended about their daughters Star and Wynter.Karolyn also writes suspense thrillers under the pen name KJ Black. The Gift Horse, her second novel was a finalist winner in the Greenlight Award Contest.Karolyn enjoys reviews and comments from her readers. She thanks you for all your encouragement and support!

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The Ghost Who Loved Me

By Karolyn Cairns

Smashwords Edition

Copyright by Karolyn Cairns 2016

DEDICATIONS

This book is dedicated to my greatest fan, my mother Sharon Sharrard. Rest in peace, Mom. I’ll never quite stop missing you in my life or giving me the encouragement that I need. You are gone but not forgotten. All I need to do is look up in the sky and find the brightest star and know you are there watching over me.

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Prologue

Hampton Court

London, England

October 28, 1546

Several dark winding corridors led to the king’s royal chambers. Two liveried guards opened the door and stood aside as the Duke of Westerleigh arrived. Thomas Cramner immediately blocked his path, holding up a hand.

The man’s watchful gaze narrowed. He smoothed his stalwart robes, looking down his arrogant nose at the handsome young lord. The king’s most trusted advisor and the current Archbishop of Canterbury regarded him with more than a little warning before his audience with King Henry.

Keep your meeting brief, Westerleigh. His Majesty needs his rest.

The Duke of Westerleigh bit back a harsh retort, never liking Cramner’s high-handed assumptions. James Carlisle smiled tightly instead, his silver eyes holding a hint of mockery. His Majesty called this meeting, Thomas. And he appears wide awake. I think he should know his own mind. After all, he is the king—not you.

Cramner’s face flushed as the brash young lord stepped passed him. The luxurious apartments gave the younger man pause, appreciating his opulent surroundings. He squinted passed the sheer bed hangings to see his ailing monarch sitting up in his bed in wait.

Henry Tudor smiled invitingly, gesturing to him warmly despite his obvious discomfort, his sharp dark eyes lighting up to see the younger man’s approach. The king left the great hall early during the evening banquet. Speculation of his condition was rampant below.

Servants retreated from the king’s side to give the men privacy. Westerleigh sat in a comfortable chair at his king’s bedside, his eyes noting the pain reflected in Henry’s features.

The king’s corpulent frame was shrouded in a thick robe, propped up with several pillows behind him. Another several pillows were at the foot of the bed favoring the leg that often caused him pain.

The leeches used to bleed the pus from his ulcerated leg wound were discarded in a basin at his bedside, the purulent smell nearly making James gag.

James, how good it is to see you. I trust you’ll stay long enough to allow me to win back the fortune I lost to you at cards the last time you were here? Henry chuckled warmly and offered his companion wine on a nearby tray, refusing to acknowledge his infirmity as was his way.

James Carlisle declined the wine with a shake of his dark head. I must go home, Majesty. I ask you to release me from court. I must to return to Westerleigh Castle. I’ve received word from the priest in Tregaron. He talks of strange occurrences throughout the countryside. I would discount such absurd tales but Father Creaton isn’t oft times so unsettled in his reports.

Henry frowned at the young nobleman’s words, sipping his wine thoughtfully. What sort of occurrences? The Welsh are a strange lot, James. I should know of course, having a grandfather who was Welsh. Don’t put so much stock in their silly superstitions. I daresay your family being at the helm in Westerleigh has brought the villagers about over the years.

He talks of witches and nonsense, Sire. Of animals slaughtered—hung in the bloody trees! James forced himself to remain calm, tempering his words. Henry waved away Archbishop Cramner, who lingered near to listen with avid interest. James continued when the man was out of earshot. He writes of children going missing from their beds in the night. And the villager’s refusing to attend mass. I shall get to the bottom of it when I get home with your permission, of course.

Certainly you must go and see to it at once, Henry agreed readily, his dark eyes narrowing thoughtfully. You must flush out such wickedness, James, or it will spread, much like a disease.

My wife has not seen fit to return my letters so I cannot attest to the validity of the man’s word of what is afoot at my home, James admitted with a frustrated sigh of disgust. It may just be the drunken ramblings of an old man. Father Creaton does enjoy his fair share of ceremonial wine on occasion.

Henry grinned widely, stroking his dark beard thoughtfully. You and your lady wife are at odds? A pity, I did hope the union would be a happy one.

James cursed softly under his breath. When are we not, Sire? Lady Isabelle is lovely but she has no affection for me. She detests my home. She far prefers life at court. She complains bitterly of being sent to live at Westerleigh while I join the march on Italy.

Henry’s face reddened with growing anger. Ungrateful bloody chit! Bah! Lady Isabelle is fortunate I found her a suitable husband. If not for her mother’s loyal service to the queen, I could have cast her out when her father’s treachery was known. I let Katherine’s tender words provoke my generosity. I made the girl a duchess! And this is how she shows her gratitude? Cheeky minx!

James was quick to apologize for his wife. Isabelle insists Sir William was innocent of the charges. She refuses to believe him guilty, even after his trial. The foolish belief of a dutiful daughter and no more, Sire. It will take time for her to come to terms. It has been but a year since his execution.

Did you know that Sir William and his followers were accused of witchcraft among their many crimes? Henry grimaced in disgust, shaking his head. Dour fellow really, not at all the type one would think prone to witchery. Even now I can hardly believe it true of Sir William.

I had not heard that. Witchcraft you say? Are you certain?

Henry sighed in annoyance and sipped his wine. Princess Mary found a strange fetish in her bed. It was a doll made with poisonous materials sewn inside of it. The doll resembled her quite closely, with bits of her own hair used to make it. These same charms were found in both Edward and Elizabeth’s beds. They had all been complaining of illness. Once the dolls were removed, they all improved. I don’t think it a coincidence.

James appeared skeptical, a dark eyebrow shooting up. And you think Sir William placed them there?

He denied all of it, of course. Henry shrugged dismissively. What would one expect?

How was he caught? James’ mind was racing at his king’s disclosure.

Princess Mary exchanged books with Sir William on occasion. She took a book back to him and saw one of these same dolls in his room. The doll was a close rendition of the queen. A search of his room in the palace revealed many of the same materials used to make these evil charms.

What of the Hopewell woman? What did she have to do with it?

She was my son’s nanny. She had access to the children’s apartments, as well as being Sir William’s mistress. She admitted to all after examination.

James was sure the examination that prompted Mary Hopewell to confess to witchcraft was torture at the hands of her interrogators in the Tower. He met the woman briefly and thought it unlikely she served any master but God.

I made sure none of such blasphemy was heard at the trial for Lady Isabelle’s benefit. Sir William’s treasonous activity against the church was enough. Do you think his daughter involved in such wickedness? Henry watched him guardedly for his answer.

James was immediately uneasy, his handsome face taut. I don’t believe in such things, Sire. True, Isabelle is hardly a devout woman, but a witch? I’ve seen no sign of it.

It troubles me what is happening in Westerleigh, James. Do you think the matters are related? These incidents did all happen while Lady Isabelle was at court.

James wisely changed the subject. I have no reason to think Isabelle is involved. Though I admit, my wife rather avoids me while I’m in residence. If I’m to get sons of her it would take a witch’s own spell to change her heart in this.

And change her heart you will, James, of that I have no doubt, Henry said proudly, his dark eyes meeting the younger man’s with warmth and affection in them. Go with my blessing. And rout out these bloody witches and burn them with God’s own mercy. I’ll expect a full accounting upon your return.

Yes of course, Your Majesty, James agreed with a grateful smile. I shall regale you with all when I return and allow you to win back some of your coin.

The king chuckled warmly and the audience was over.

James left the king’s chambers soon after, retreating to his rooms to inform his page and other servants they were leaving Hampton Court for Westerleigh Castle the following morning.

It would take two days to get there if they pushed it. He was in no hurry. He rather thought three days would see him home.

James sat before the hearth in an overstuffed chair while they packed up his room, his silver eyes filled with growing unease after Henry’s disclosures of what Isabelle’s father was accused of.

Sir William was as outspoken as the queen on reforming the church, and for that, made a great many enemies at court. Among them was Thomas Cramner.

Sir William Gordon and two others were accused in a plot to lead opposition against the church. They were caught and quickly brought to trial and executed for treason.

Not a whisper of witchcraft was ever heard before tonight.

James thought the suppression of the evidence at the trial was Henry’s way of avoiding having anyone look too closely at Queen Katherine’s dealings with Sir William.

The two shared like minds in respect to the reformation of the church. Cramner would have expanded the charges against the queen to include heresy and witchcraft. Little could have been done to save Queen Katherine if such had been allowed to happen.

A warrant for Katherine’s arrest for having banned books in her possession was narrowly avoided. The king chose to ignore his wife’s misstep, but not Sir William’s. Cramner must have seethed in frustration to know he failed to discredit the queen and went after Sir William instead.

James thought of his aloof lovely bride and wondered how much she knew of her father’s dealings prior to his arrest. Isabelle and Sir William Gordon were close. She grew up at court, and was a favorite of Queen Katherine’s.

Isabelle’s mother, Lady Gordon, served the queen and was one of her most trusted confidantes. Katherine Parr had a soft heart for Isabelle. She took her dearest friend’s daughter into her household when Lady Gordon died a year ago.

When Sir William, his mistress, and a palace servant were arrested for treason, the queen sought to protect young Isabelle by marrying her off quickly. James was twenty and five and still unmarried.

His king asked him to wed the lady to give her the protection of his name on behalf of the queen. He could hardly refuse such an edict. Now in retrospect, James cursed the fact he was saddled with a woman who could hardly abide him.

James never had to beg for a woman’s favors. He wouldn’t start with his own wife. Ladies at court threw themselves at him on the daily since he returned from the Italian peninsula. The fact the marriage was not consummated wasn’t lost upon him.

He thought to be courteous and allow Isabelle time to mourn her father. It was well over a year. The woman showed little interest in doing her duty. Far from it, she avoided her husband on those rare occasions he was home.

For some strange reason, Isabelle didn’t appeal to him as beautiful as she was to look upon. With her white-blonde hair, robin’s egg blue eyes, and her smooth porcelain skin she was quite desirable.

Something about her cold malevolent manner left him bereft of desire, enough to seek other women for his pleasure. His wife seemed relieved he didn’t seek her bed on those few occasions he was at Westerleigh this last year. James wasn’t vain or arrogant enough to take issue with his wife’s lack of interest in him.

James smiled when he thought of his newest mistress, a beauteous lady in Queen Katherine’s service, a maid who was a foundling left in the household since her birth. The girl nearly singed the hairs off his chest whenever they were abed, enough to assure him the deficiency in his marriage was not him in the least.

Isabelle’s apparent frigidity would become an issue when the matter of a male heir had to be addressed. He could avoid the matter for only so long. He didn’t look forward to forcing the issue despite the very real need for a male heir.

James had no brothers and no male relatives in line for his title. He was the third Duke of Westerleigh, a fairly new title created by Henry Tudor after the War of the Roses.

His grandfather, Robert James Carlisle, fought beside Henry Tudor and helped him win his crown. Rewarded for his service, a simple knight was made a duke and a small tract of land near the town of Tregaron in Wales named the duchy of Westerleigh.

His father, Henry James Robert Carlisle, was the only child born of the doomed marriage to Lady Anne Donnell, his grandmother who died soon after in childbed.

His father married Lady Phillipa Neville twenty-six years later, and James too, was an only child of that union. His mother was said to be a woman of low spirit. It was suggested she took her own life when he was only a year old, leaving him in the care of nurses while his father served his king at court.

James Edward Carlisle became the third Duke of Westerleigh at the tender age of ten when his father died heroically in battle. A man by the name of Sir Reginald Galeforth was made his guardian at Westerleigh until he was old enough to be presented at court.

The task of begetting sons with Isabelle was a very real need James could hardly ignore. He abhorred the thought of manipulating his wife to his bed, knowing instinctively she would not come to him.

He dreaded going home, angry he got the shortest end of the stick in all of this, fuming over what was being bandied about the great hall tonight.

The recent gossip at court suggested Isabelle was King Henry’s favorite mistress for a time; the true reason the king wed her away so quickly. Henry wished to avoid the queen discovering his latest indiscretion.

James could see it was entirely plausible. Henry making Isabelle, a lady with little wealth or title, a duchess, may have been done to keep her silent of the matter.

He felt sorely used if that were the case.

Isabelle Gordon was the youngest of Katherine’s ladies and the most beautiful. If she caught Henry’s eye while serving the queen, it was no surprise or fault of hers. Henry would hardly care that Isabelle Gordon’s mother was Queen Katherine’s closest friend and avoid the girl out of respect.

When had that ever stopped him before?

The young woman James was forced to marry was vain and prideful, or more aptly put, a horrid shrew on even the best day when crossed. Isabelle obviously saw something more in it for herself while at court, her covetous eye on more than being a duchess. Henry no doubt encouraged her with gifts and promised much for her to surrender her virtue.

James was no fool.

Isabelle was married off for far more than her father’s alleged treason. Henry knew very well why Sir William might employ such a plot, if there was one at all. It was quite obvious it was to further his own daughter.

But even James had to question why Sir William would engage in such petty intrigue. He began to suspect the man was innocent of all and cruelly set upon by another.

Many a noble at court were trying to further their own ends these days. They watched the king declining in health and panicked, knowing the heir to the throne, a young boy king under the guidance of Edward Seymour his uncle, would yield them nothing in the way of royal favors.

They would have seen both Isabelle and her father as a threat if they discovered she was Henry’s mistress. The recent attempt to discredit the queen and have her tried for treason, initiating many arrests for heresy and the execution of Ann Askew was likely at the root of it.

His recollection of Sir William made him unable to believe the kind, scholarly man everyone ducked during evening meals to avoid his lengthy dissertations was a true follower of witchcraft. He was a bookish man, highly learned, and more interested in those pursuits.

The man’s mistress Mary Hopewell was a widowed matron who kept to herself. She was said to be devoted to God. Her only crime was having access to the children and sharing the man’s bed. She was assumed privy to his crimes. The woman denied all, sobbing and crying as she was dragged to the Tower of London for examination.

The palace servant named in the crime also swore of his innocence. He often served Sir William on occasion while the man stayed at Hampton Court. He was marched up the scaffold to lose his head alongside the others.

It now looked as if Isabelle sharing Henry’s bed could have made her and her father a threat to those seeking to further themselves in the eyes of the king. Even a royal mistress was a danger that none could easily ignore after Henry’s disastrous marriage to Anne Boleyn years ago.

Isabelle would never admit to the liaison. Sir William was now dead. Henry would never deign to acknowledge an inappropriate relationship. And that left him forced into a loveless marriage as a means to an end for his king.

While he loved and respected Henry Tudor, James began to feel resentment these last weeks. His hearing the rumors swirling about Isabelle and the king made him seethe inwardly.

He endured the pitying looks from others with an indifferent expression after he returned to court that summer after the year-long military campaign in the south.

Henry was notorious for casting his former mistresses off upon his nobles if only to cover his indiscretions or the unfortunate presence of a child born from the liaison. Though Henry was very fond of his current wife Katherine Parr, the man indulged in multiple affairs since their marriage.

Henry dearly wanted more sons and made few bones of it when into his cups. Others around him who listened to such loose talk took him literally. They foolishly thought he meant to put aside his marriage to Katherine Parr, fuelling the intrigue further.

They doubtless saw another wife in the king’s future, unable to see that he was far too ill to summon the energy to act upon such false bravado.

Queen Katherine must have felt panic when she came under suspicion by Thomas Cramner. She had to have known she was losing her husband’s affection to insist Lady Isabelle marry and leave her service.

She no doubt suspected something happening between them, and knowing Henry’s mind in all things, saw it as self preservation by removing such a temptation.

James more than sensed there was little physical attraction between the royal couple even if there was great affection. The queen was an attractive woman but hardly the type his king often enjoyed behind her back.

Even at his advancing age and steady decline in health, Henry Tudor enjoyed many beautiful young women at court. The gossip that he might have enjoyed Isabelle made James’s lips tighten in displeasure.

To be made a cuckold was hard to swallow, but James was now trapped in the situation. He and Isabelle must now make the best of it.

Perhaps this trip to Westerleigh would prove eventful?

He smiled bitterly to think he might actually try to woo his cold wife for once if only to beget an heir while he got to the bottom of Father Creaton’s wild tales.

James thought of his mistress.

She would not be pleased when he left court so suddenly. She was strangely quiet of late, regarding him sadly, unlike her usual gay manner, even after rousing lovemaking in his bedchamber.

James knew the cause of her current melancholy, felt the pain in her bright cerulean blue eyes each time they met his. She wore her feelings upon her dress sleeve of late, reminding him of all those who watched and whispered around them.

They were careful to keep their distance from one another. He would leave nothing to chance lest they were discovered, the reason why he left court. It was for her benefit he left for a time. To allow their relationship to cool a bit to avoid anything that could endanger her present position in the queen’s chamber. The lady knew there was no future for them from the start. James never promised her anything as some men might.

While he cared for her and thought of her often in quiet contemplation, he flatly refused to call it love, to linger on it and wish for more. She was beautiful, witty, and accomplished, a credit to any man to have as a wife. She would make a fine match one day when she left the queen’s service.

Her lack of chastity would never matter at any rate, as lovely as she was. Such was divested by him many weeks ago in a moment of madness under a full moon in the gardens outside Hampton Court. It was his weakness and not hers that kept him seeking her out.

They threw all caution to the winds and now it must end. He cursed the fates that made them meet after he was already bound to Lady Isabelle. He’d not see her suffer for his folly by prolonging the inevitable end of their attachment. If discretion were not a valuable discipline needed for court life for a lady, a rough-hewn exterior of the eventual husband was also a necessary prerequisite.

James knew to leave without saying farewell to the girl would say far more than he wished to inflict upon her tender heart, despite his sudden twinge of conscience. He had no wish to hurt her further.

She would marry soon. Her dead father was obviously favored by Henry Tudor if she was kept within the royal household all of these years. She would forget their brief time, he hoped, with a depressive frown to think of her marrying someone else.

It was the way of things in their world. Even things wanted so badly by one could not be had in this situation. The promise of any future happiness between them was lost unto him, to be bestowed onto another. Forget her he would, if only to make a go of his disastrous marriage.

James rose from the chair and retreated to his bedchamber to undress for bed. He dreaded the long journey to Westerleigh on the morrow with a heavy heart, ignoring the tightening in his chest and a feeling of angst that lingered and prevailed.

Whatever they might have had could not be. He rolled over in bed and punched his pillow while sleep continually eluded. He was the pragmatist in this for once. It was for the best for all, refusing to name his flagging spirits to be leaving.

Before James drifted off to sleep, the vision of her perfect ivory face lingered in his dreams, of bright cerulean blue eyes, a saucy mouth made for kissing, and of running his fingers through her rich sable hair that felt like the softest silk.

~ ~ ~

When James awoke before dawn, a bitter taste was felt in his mouth. He roused before first light to avoid running into any members of the king’s court before he left.

Soon his servant arrived with a tray of food. He dressed and ate quickly, wanting to flee this place, if only to run from her and all that could not be.

James found his six retainers waiting for him in the royal stables, all talking amongst themselves as they made ready to leave. The brawniest of them was named Sir Edmund Sheffield, a veritable mountain of a man in both size and strength.

Edmund and the others wore heavy chain mail, armed to the teeth; prepared for anything should they come under attack on the roadside. His pale eyes met his lord’s grimly as he saddled his horse. The other five were packing their own mounts when he approached.

Do you expect trouble when we arrive to Westerleigh, Your Grace? Edmund had a certain glint in his eyes as he put his helmet over his blond head, eyeing the long gleaming sword hanging from James’ hip. You think you’ll need that with me here with you? He chuckled in amusement, shaking his head.

I expect trouble wherever I go, Edmund, James said jokingly and brushed off his man-at-arms concerns on what they might find at his home. Let us be off. I wish to be out of the city before first light.

Chapter One

London, England

August 14, 1846

The Duchess of Westerleigh sat stiffly upon the padded bench outside her husband’s study. She was highly conscious of the servant’s curious eyes as they went about their duties. She was not a regular visitor at the Carlisle residence. She kept her own townhouse and servants in the city. The furor her unexpected arrival caused within the household was only natural to expect.

Though the couple lived apart and had for years, none could say the Duke and Duchess of Westerleigh were ever at odds. No tidbit of gossip trickled down below stairs for the servants to speculate over the odd living arrangement. The Westerleighs had been married for five years with no children.

Lady Elizabeth Surrey was the Earl of Camden’s only daughter, coming from one of the best families in Northern England, reared at her ancestral home, Camden Downs, just south of Yorkshire.

The Countess of Camden arranged the match against the wishes of her husband. They were in dire straits financially. A rich duke for their daughter was a prospect they shouldn’t ignore. Lady Camden learned through gossip the young heir to the dukedom of Westerleigh was seeking a wife.

It was not long before she wrote to the man’s mother, inviting both to Camden Downs. Lord Robert Surrey left the decision to his daughter, saying she would have the final say in it.

Though the pair of young people did not suit one another from the start, they wed in all of the pomp and splendor their stations demanded. After a brief honeymoon in Edinburgh, the split was forever made between them.

The lady returned to open a house in London.

His Lordship returned to Carlisle Place and his old haunts.

And never did the two come in close proximity until today.

Lady Westerleigh, still in her youth at twenty-three, was lovely and accomplished; a patron of the arts and her charitable works for the poor. A rising icon within society, the young woman was highly sought out by many.

Elizabeth had many friends and was charming and gay. Her infectious smile and laughter were hard not to be drawn to. She was a regular visitor of the royal family and at the top of every guest list amongst the nobility.

His Lordship, on the other hand, was an odd, unlikable fellow, small in stature and almost effeminate in nature. Edward was aloof and quiet, prone to pettiness and brooding. His vindictive nature was often felt by the servants, who tipped about on eggshells at times to avoid his displeasure.

His Lordship preferred to live in seclusion to pursue his own private haunts. He was content to stay out of his wife’s vast shadow cast within society, never demanding anything of her. It was very much accepted the pair went their separate ways from the moment they wed.

To see Her Ladyship here today