Cinderella
and the Ghost
The
Cursed Princes
Book
Four
Marina
Myles
Release Date:
February 17, 2015
Genre:
Historical/paranormal romance
Publisher:
Kensington
Description:
A stroke of
paint and a stroke of luck. Will they come together to create magic at the
stroke of midnight?
When her
demanding stepmother died, Ella Benoit knew just how far their fortunes had
fallen, unlike her spoiled stepsisters. So she never expected the bequest from
her late father. A chateau in France and the freedom to live her own life, all
at once!
The chateau has
seen better days, but Ella knows she can put the ruined house to rights. The
life-size portrait of its first owner, Jean-Daniel Girard, seems to watch her
work with approval, even pleasure. With bright blue eyes, strong features, and
an athlete’s body, the viscount is a tempting sight even now, more than three
hundred years after his tragic death. But the more she looks at the portrait,
the more convinced Ella is that she’s met Jean-Daniel before. In another life,
perhaps—or maybe, as the form who haunts the halls at night, invading Ella’s
dreams…
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Excerpt
As
Ella passed the drawing room, she halted. Eerie goose bumps blanketed her arms.
Drawn to the room, she felt as though she’d been in it before.
She
crossed the threshold under a sudden trance. Icy stabs of déjà vu assaulted her
because the ornate furnishings and draperies seemed extremely familiar. Perhaps, she considered, I’ve seen the room in one of Adelaide’s real
estate or decorating magazines.
Taking
a few steps forward, she noticed a huge blank spot on the east wall. The area’s
wallpaper not only showed a variance in color, it outlined a missing,
life-sized painting or tapestry.
How odd. Why had the art
work been removed? Where was it now?
An
unrelenting force summoned her closer to the blank spot. Her inquisitiveness
grew. If the missing object was indeed a life-sized painting, it must have
taken forever to complete. She wondered about its subject. A landscape? More
likely, a portrait.
Prodded
to start a hunt, she went through several rooms on Château de Maincy’s main
level. She searched the front parlor, the back parlor, and the music room. Her
favorite was the ballroom. As she entered, a spark met her toes. Wide-eyed, she
noticed that rays of sunshine cast a sparkling aura over its faded parquet
floor. A glittering chandelier hung in the center of the gold-toned room and
anchored the enormous space.
When
the chandelier caught a beam of sunlight, Ella received another spark. She put
her hand to her warm cheeks. She could almost hear strains of a quadrille—and
the drone of chatter as if she were at a party.
Not a
party. She rephrased the thought. A ball.
Eyes
blurred, she slipped into a deeper trance. Suddenly, she was wearing a stunning
costume and was stepping into waltz with a debonair nobleman sporting a mask.
The nobleman pulled her tightly against him. Other guests wearing masks looked
on.
It
was a masquerade ball! More scenes flashed before Ella. Warm wind gusted into
the room and then—
Exiting
the trance, she realized that the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
Why in heaven had she experienced that?
Her
father had written that Ella had been at the château before. Yet she had no
conscious memory of the visit. Maybe, she
thought as she rubbed her eyes, the
atmosphere of this house is too seductive to resist.
Still
reeling from the vision, her attention shifted to a long-case clock in the corner.
Its shattered face was visible through a hinged glass panel that hung ajar. The
top of the clock bore a large, vertical gash.
How odd.
Ella
inched closer. The open door revealed that the time-piece had been frozen at
twelve o’clock. She touched the immobile hands—and in the bright light of the
room, she noticed that the clock’s maker had etched his name and creation date
into a groove bordering the clock’s pendulum.
Montbleu ~ 1703.
All
at once, Ella remembered standing in front of the long-case clock, precisely
like this. But how could that be? She must have repressed memories from her
visit here as a child. Yet, she couldn’t explain the vision of herself dancing
with the handsome man.
Once
she confirmed that a life-sized painting wasn’t hanging in the ballroom, she
made her way up the grand staircase. Inexplicably, she felt drawn to where she
was going. When she reached the second floor of the house, she studied a wall
of faded frescoes depicting late seventeenth century life. When something told
her to go on, she padded to the third floor landing.
A
palpable hush filled the corridor ahead of her. Then a charged stream of energy
rushed through the hall. Since all the curtains were drawn over the arched
windows, the hallway sat in darkness and shadow. Ella should be doing so many
things. Unpacking. Cleaning. Deciding which bedroom would be hers. But a sense
of urgency prompted her feet to continue.
What will I find in this part of the
house? Glimpses of the valiant but very dead Jean-Daniel Girard?
Gulping,
she opened door after door and peeked in. She finally came to a storage space,
with an additional staircase leading up to an attic. Creeping up those stairs,
Ella surveyed the articles on the landing. Broken mirrors and articles of
furniture draped in white sheets lay strewn about. Tangled strings of cobwebs
swathed the wood paneling.
A
glowing beam of sunlight angled into the room. Ella’s pulse sped. In the
corner, she spotted an item covered with a black cloth. The object reclined
against the far wall—and appeared to be larger than she was. Pushing the
curtains open, she allowed more sunlight to bathe the space. Hands quivering,
she moved back to the draped item and pulled away the black cloth.
The
painting’s gilded frame was stunning. On it, Ella located a nameplate.
Jean-Daniel
Girard—Viscount de Maincy
1677-1703
Slowly,
as though her life was being altered with every centimeter, her stare ascended
to the nobleman’s astonishing face. Instantly, the world fell into a compelling
silence.
Jean-Daniel
Girard was tall, muscular, and inarguably handsome. In fact, his good looks
were so striking that Ella could barely breathe as she gazed upon them. More
than that, she knew she’d seen his face somewhere before. While she racked her
brain about where she’d seen it, her gaze roamed over Jean-Daniel’s sold body,
penetrating aquamarine eyes, and angular features. He could be described as
classically handsome. The epitome of male beauty, really. And thankfully, that
classic quality helped him transcend the fanciful clothing and wig he wore.
Ella
took a step in and studied him some more. True to subjects painted in that era,
he wasn’t smiling. Rather, he seemed a pensive and a bit melancholy. However,
she could tell from the laugh lines bracketing his generous mouth that he
grinned often.
Incredibly
lifelike, Jean-Daniel seemed capable of emerging from the painting right then
and there. Ella’s skin tingled.
Her
gaze drifted to the adorable dog sitting at the viscount’s feet. A splendid
example of a hound, it possessed a gleaming brown-and-white coated, an open
mouth, and a protruding tongue. Oddly, the dog
seemed to be smiling.
“I
can tell you loved your master,” she murmured.
Mesmerized
by the man in the painting, Ella stared at his image for what felt like hours.
The more she analyzed it, the more she noticed its “lost soul” quality. She
crossed her arms. No, that wasn’t it. Instead, there seemed to be something
underlying the viscount’s solemn face. As if he weren’t solemn at all. As if he
possessed a sense of unfinished business.
To die so young…
She
finally looked at the portrait’s backdrop. A vivid depiction of Château de
Maincy surrounded Jean-Daniel. A cluster of servants was working in the fields
adjacent to the splendid house. Wide-eyed bluebirds perched on the tree
branches over his wigged head.
So that’s the way the estate looked in
its heyday.
Stepping
closer, she zeroed in on Jean-Daniel’s astounding eyes. They seemed to come
alive—and for the briefest moment, he did as well. If only they were on a
first-name basis! The thought exhilarated her.
While
she and the figure locked stares, a new layer of goose bumps sprang up on
Ella’s arms. She retreated. Despite the warmth of the room, a chill barraged
her body.
“Jean-Daniel
Girard is quite swoon-worthy, non?”
whispered an unfamiliar voice.
About
the Author
Marina Myles’s
love of books began as soon as she read her first fairy tale. During her
college days in Dallas, she received degrees in English Literature and
Communications—and enjoyed the unique experience of being a Dallas Cowboys
Cheerleader. Now that she lives under the sunny skies of Arizona, she hasn’t
left her glamorous life behind completely. After all, she gets to divide her
time between her loving family, her loyal Maltese, and worlds filled with
fiery—but not easily attained—love affairs.
Represented by Louise Fury of The Bent Agency.
Author Links:
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