Haunting Secrets by Marie Higgins Page A

of sight.
    Grumbling, Victoria hurried to her room and grabbed her own cloak. She dashed down the stairs and outside. Shielding her face from the drizzling rain with one hand, she ran toward the wooded area.
    “Francine?” She hurried faster through the trees. “Blast it, Francine. Answer me.”
    Victoria paused, inhaling deep breaths as she looked through the trees. The rain finally stopped and thick sea mist settled around her, making it impossible to see which direction her maid had gone.
    As she studied her surroundings, a noise in the distance grew louder. The white wolf? She strained to listen closer. No, according to everyone, he only came out at night. Yet the sound had definitely come from a dog.
    Fear chilled her bones and left her breathless. Not just one dog, but several. Fierce barking grew closer. With a sharp cry, she turned and ran back into the mist toward what she hoped was the direction of the house.
    Branches caught on her cloak and yanked off her hood as she hurtled through the group of trees. Low branches caught at her hood and pulled it off. Sharp twigs tangled in her hair. She yelped and jumped away.
    The barking dogs grew closer. Her feet slipped in the mud and she fell to her knees. In a hurry, she scrambled to stand. The growls from the animals rose right behind her. She tried to rise from the mud puddle and found her cloak caught in the bush. With a sob, tears stung her eyes and she yanked at her garment.
    Three snarling dogs appeared in front of her. Foam drooled from the jaws of the hairy hounds with long legs and their eyes seemed covered with a milky blue film. Her heart sank.
    Rabid.
    Slowly, they circled her. She dared not scream for fear they’d attack.
    On the ground, she searched for a broken limb or rock as a weapon. Nothing.
    One dog crept closer. “Get away,” she screamed. Another snapped at her, catching the end of her cloak. “No!” She jerked the garment, only succeeding in playing a tug-of-war game. She shrugged out of the covering and threw it to the animal. The other two jumped at it, and all three tore it into strips.
    She held her shaking hands close to her chest. On unsteady legs, she stepped back. She had to run, to scream, or do something. She couldn’t just let them tear at her body as they were doing to her cloak.
    The dogs were kept entertained by shredding the garment, so she took another step back, then another, until her feet quickened and she put some distance between them. The dogs snapped their heads in her direction before leaping toward her.
    Disoriented, having no idea which way to run, she screamed and ran. Where was the house? All that loomed before her were the jumble of black tree trunks and a white, swirling mist. Branches whipped at her face and caught her hair, but she didn’t dare stop. The animals were close on her heels.
    Her toes hit a moss-covered log. She fell into the mud. Sobbing, she covered her face. The piercing of teeth on her flesh would be the next pain she’d feel.
    Another sound ripped through the air. Some other animal had joined the threesome. One dog yelped then all of them joined in. Then the yelps of one dog seemed to become a man’s voice. A man’s tone boomed into a growl-like hiss.
    She peeked through quivering fingers. Yellow, glowing eyes caught her attention. She blinked, not believing what she saw. A tall man with wide shoulders and wearing a hooded black cloak stood between her and the dogs. She recognized him immediately. Lowering her hands, she watched. The glowing color of his eyes quickly disappeared. Had she imagined it? After all, he wanted her to believe he was the East Wing ghost.
    He turned his attention toward the beasts and growled in a wolf’s tone. Cocking their heads from side to side, the dogs whined.
    Victoria gasped. Could this man actually talk to them? Impossible.
    Yet the dogs acted as if they understood or at least feared him. He growled again and the three beasts yelped, and ran into the