Married By Midnight by Julianne MacLean

for each other and he is most certainly not meant to return to Greece.”
    Rebecca and Chelsea shared a hesitant glance.
    “ Watch,” Charlotte said. “You will soon see that I am right. Come Christmas Day, he won’t be going anywhere because he will be blissfully happy in the arms of his beautiful new wife, and all will be exactly as it should be.”
    The clocked chimed on the mantel, and Charlotte ate her breakfast with gusto.
     
    * * *
     
    Garrett could not sleep. He lay tossing and turning for nearly two hours wondering what the devil he had gotten himself into—agreeing to marry a woman he’d never met for the sole purpose of collecting his inheritance. He’d thought it would be a simple affair.
    The lady in question had agreed to the terms of the contract, which was to live separate lives after the wedding day. He therefore expected to avoid any awkward romantic situations with her, yet here he lay as randy as a schoolboy because he had taken her into his arms the night before and kissed her sweet honey lips until he couldn’t think or breathe.
    God help him. She really was the most beautiful creature he had ever encountered, and his body was still throbbing and aching with desire—which was not part of the plan.
    Anne had made it clear she did not wish to become entangled in a sordid affair—and thank God for that, for he certainly didn’t want to desire her or heaven forbid fall in love with her. But he did want the money. Just the money.
    A noise in the corridor caused him to sit up in his bed. What was it? A groan? A sob? It sounded eerily like one of Charlotte’s ghostly howls in the underground passages. Was she playing tricks again, or had the spirit of a murdered monk truly come to haunt the Sinclairs?
    Tossing the covers aside, he slipped out of bed, pulled on his dark green silk night robe, tied the sash, and moved quickly to the door. With a gentle click, he turned the knob and peered into the dark corridor.
    Another tragic sob echoed off the walls and Garrett quickly shut his door. His heart pounded like a hammer. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He didn’t believe in ghosts. He certainly was not afraid...
    This was ridiculous. It had to be Charlotte.
    Quickly lighting a candle and picking up the brass holder, he pulled the door open and burst forth into the corridor to look left and right.
    The candlelight cast peculiar shadows across the floor as he swung it around. There was no one about—and damn his heart for beating so fast.
    He took a moment to catch his breath and think about what to do. If he had any sense in his brain, he would go back to bed and ignore Charlotte’s tomfoolery...but if he did that, he’d only be plagued by more lustful thoughts of Lady Anne and her soft, warm lips, and he’d spend more hours tossing and turning in bed and driving himself completely mad.
    Hearing another distant, hollow moan, he turned in the other direction and caught a flash of white moving toward the stairs.
    If that were a ghost, he’d eat his nightshirt.
    With swift, determined strides, he hurried to the end of the corridor and held the candle aloft. “Hello!” he called out. “I know you’re there. I saw you.”
    A chill draft blew across the floor. He heard the heavy creaking of a door and was about to threaten this mischievous ghost with physical violence when he saw what appeared to be a bright silky glow. His stomach dropped. Then he heard a voice.
    “ Garrett, is that you?”
    Christ . He really needed to get some sleep.
    “ Yes, it’s me. Is that you, Lady Anne?”
    She was dressed in a white silk robe and carried a flickering candle as she approached. Her wavy black hair was long and loose about her shoulders. He nearly fell over at the sight of her, so beguiling was she in the golden light.
    “ I heard howling and moaning,” she said. “After last night, I confess I’ve been a bit spooked. I couldn’t sleep.”
    “ Nor could I,” he replied. “Have you been