In the Midnight Hour

by Kimberly Raye

  “Nothing,” Val breathed. “It’s blank.” Was that relief she heard in his voice? Or her own wishful thinking? “We shall not find the answer tonight.”

  Which meant he was stuck here for a little while longer.

  The realization thrilled as much as it frightened. Val in her bed for another night. Another week. Maybe another month.

  Val tempting her, frustrating her.

  Val smiling at her, keeping her company.

  She sent up a silent thank-you, closed the bible, and put it back in its place. “Let’s go home.”

  “My fondest wish,” a female voice chimed.

  Ronnie whirled and realized she’d given thanks all too soon. Standing a few feet away was a petite woman with blonde hair and haunted blue eyes, dressed in an old-fashioned dress straight out of Gone with the Wind. Correction, not a woman but a ghost. The moonlight shone through the windows, shimmering through the woman’s pale pink dress, giving her an ethereal glow.

  “Finally we meet,” she told Val. “I’ve been praying for it all this time, since the moment my body gave up the ghost. One hundred and twenty-five years staring at these cabin walls, reliving my past, regretting it, hoping with all hope that perhaps you, too, would yearn for the truth the way I yearn to tell it.”

  “Claire,” Val breathed, and the woman nodded.

  “The virgin,” Ronnie blurted out. “Oh my God, you’re the virgin!”

  “Once,” the woman said, a sad smile curving her lips. “A long, long time ago. Now I am simply a tortured spirit searching for my own peace, doomed to haunt this cabin where I passed on until I can set things right. I did a terrible thing telling my father about you, Val. I knew he would be angry, but I never thought he would go so far as to kill you.”

  “You should have come to me yourself. I would have married you and given the child my name, my home—everything.”

  “Even a child that wasn’t yours?” At Val’s incredulous expression, she went on, “We were never together, Valentine Tremaine. You did little more than to speak a hello to me, much less take me to bed.”

  “But you told your father—”

  “I had to,” she rushed on. “I feared telling him the truth. He would have driven John away.”

  “John?” Val asked. “John Trudeau?”

  Claire nodded. “Emma’s father.”

  “Did you know him?” Ronnie asked Val.

  A grim expression drew his mouth tight. “I played cards with him after the ball the night I supposedly deflowered Claire.”

  “You also drank with him. A great deal of brandy,” Claire said. “Along with a potion he’d slipped into your drink. You became quite intoxicated and John steered you into his carriage to drive you home. Only he didn’t take you home. You passed out and he left you in that cabin on the outskirts of your plantation. He tangled some of the sheet and separated some of my perfumes to make you believe a woman had been with you.”

  “So I wasn’t with a woman that night?”

  She shook her head. “It was a ruse, to leave the question in your mind so you couldn’t dispute my claim that you were the father of my child rather than John.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the truth?” Ronnie asked.

  “She couldn’t,” Val said. “John was married.”

  “I know our love was wrong,” Claire admitted. “But at the time, it felt so right. I couldn’t name John and destroy him. He was a God-fearing man. Decent. A true friend and devout member of my father’s congregation. I went to him right away when I found out.” A sad smile curved her lips. “I suppose I hoped he would take me and we would run away together, but John was too good to do something so terrible to his family. His wife was terribly ill from the recent birth of their third child and he simply couldn’t abandon her. She was weak, near death, and he had to look after the children. At first, he wanted me to do away with our child. He knew of this slave from a nearby plantation who could do that sort of thing, but I was afraid, and determined to have the babe. He tried to convince me, but I stood firm. This was my child, my babe. Finally John agreed and said we would find another way. He said if we named someone else as the father, our secret would be safe. I could have the child and later, once John’s wife passed on, we could be together. Our child and John’s three. One big, happy family.”

  “And you believed that?” Ronnie gave her an incredulous look.

  “I wanted to believe it.” Claire wiped at a silvery tear sliding down her face. “I realize now that John wasn’t the man I thought.” A laugh burst from her lips. “I realized long ago, but it was still too late to undo the tragedy that was already done.”

  “Why me?” Val asked. “Why did you choose me?”

  “You had a reputation with women. You were a rake and a rogue. It was easy for my father to believe a lusty man such as you would seduce his daughter. And being an innocent, of course, I would have been too naive to stop you.”

  “Thus absolving yourself of blame.”

  “Yes.” She sniffled and wiped at her tears. “But make no mistake, I didn’t do this for myself. I did it for John. To save him. I never told a soul he was the father, just as we agreed. I never even told Emma. She believed what everyone in this town believed. That I was taken advantage of by the most notorious rogue in Louisiana.”

  “What happened to John?” Ronnie asked.

  “His wife survived. John took her and their children and moved before my babe was born. I never heard from him again.” A pleading light filled her eyes as she faced Val. “I know now that John wasn’t the man I thought. If he had been, he would never have encouraged me to do what I did. Not that he is at fault.” She bowed her head for a moment. “I take full blame. I truly regret the wrong I have committed against you, so much that I have stayed here, forfeiting my peace for the chance to set things right.”

  “You lied,” Val said, still trying to come to grips with Claire Wilbur’s confession. A ruse. It had all been a ruse and he’d been the victim. Wrongly accused. Falsely persecuted.

  Murdered.

  Even more than death, he’d been tortured. “For a century and a half, I have worried, wondered, hoped.” His gaze collided with Claire’s. “All for naught. There was never even the slightest chance that I had fathered a child.”

  “I’m sorry. I, too, have endured a fate worse than death. My guilt. But now I have told the truth. I have admitted my wrong and set the record straight.” She turned to stare at the silvery moon outside. “It is almost time.”

  Time?” Ronnie asked. “Time for what?”

  “To cross over. To peace.” Her gaze went to the antique clock sitting on the mantel. “In six minutes, at the exact time my heart gave out so long ago, I shall finally know peace.” She settled into a nearby rocking chair. Wood creaked and grated as the chair started to rock.

  “Val?” Veronica’s soft voice pushed past the noise. Gentle fingers touched his arm. “We should get back. We promised Danny he would be back in time for his study session with Wanda.”

  He nodded, letting her lead him from the cabin, out into the night. They were halfway to the car when they heard the woman’s voice.

  Val whirled in time to see the shimmering light at the window of the cabin, the outline of a woman. Claire. The light grew brighter, blinding, before bursting into a million sparks. The tiny specks whirled and floated off into the night sky. The moon seemed to shimmer and brighten, luring the sparks, drawing them home. To the Afterlife. Peace.

  What waited for Val in a precious few hours, once the clock struck three a.m. The time of his death. The time to cross over, now that he knew the truth.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ronnie and Val returned to her apartment, where Val promptly exited Danny’s body.

  “What are you thinking?” Ronnie asked once she’d told her friend thank you and sent him on his way.

  Val, strong and solid now that midnight had come, stood in the open French doors and stared up at the night sky. He could already feel the
strange pulling inside him, as if the moon were a magnet, calling and luring him.

  “Are you angry?” she asked, coming up behind him.

  “I was.” He closed his eyes. “At being murdered, duped. But no more.”

  “Why not?”

  He opened his eyes and stared up at the moon. But he didn’t see the full ethereal ball. He saw Veronica, with her flame-colored hair and her pale-as-milk skin, and, despite the past and the future, and being robbed of both, Valentine Tremaine smiled.

  “Claire did a terrible thing, but she did it for love. I wouldn’t have understood the power of such a thing before, but I do now. Because of you.” He turned on her, his gaze colliding with hers. “I cannot hate her, for I am grateful to her.”

  “Grateful?”

  “Although I wanted to be Emma’s father, I am thankful I wasn’t.” He shook his head. “I never thought I would feel such a thing. I wanted a child far more than I ever wanted a woman. Until now.” He stepped toward her. “I didn’t deflower Claire. I made no fatal mistake. My life was taken because of someone else’s mistake, not my own.”

  The truth crystallized in Ronnie’s mind and she realized what he was saying, that loving her wouldn’t cost him his soul.

  A bittersweet ache rushed through her. While the news brought her tremendous joy, it made her all the sadder.

  “You still have to cross over.” He nodded and a whirlwind of feeling rushed through her. Longing and desire and sadness and anger and … love. So fierce, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go.

  But she would have to.

  Not yet, she reminded herself, suddenly determined to hold the moment, to treasure it for as long as possible and make as many memories as she could while she could. She wanted to make love with Val.

  It had nothing to do with her paper and everything to do with the fact that she loved him, he loved her, and she wanted her first time to be with the man she loved.

  She stepped toward him, but he turned away. “Val?”

  “I know what you’re thinking, chérie. It’s all I have been thinking. All I want. But we can’t”

  “Why not? We still have three hours together, don’t we?”

  He nodded. “It’s not the time. I cannot take what you’re offering, no matter how much I want to. It wouldn’t be fair. I have nothing to give you in return. Not my name, my wealth, my future. Nothing but a moment’s pleasure.”

  He was right. His argument echoed everything Ronnie had told herself at one time, when she’d decided Val was the most logical choice to take her virginity. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed.

  He was still the best choice, but not because he was safe or temporary. She wanted him because he was the man she loved.

  Ronnie didn’t want him because he couldn’t give her a future, she wanted him in spite of it. She loved him, and the feeling pushed her forward when fear and worry might have held her back.

  “You’re wrong, Val. You can give me more than a moment’s pleasure. You can give me a lifetime filled with sweet memories of this one night. This one precious night with the man I love.”

  He turned at her words. His gaze caught hers for a split second and she saw the fear and indecision. The anger and rage. The lust and love. So much love …

  “Please,” she murmured, and he hauled her into his arms and captured her mouth in a breathless kiss.

  Desperation seemed to drive him for the first few moments of contact, then something happened. The kiss slowed, deepened as Val took the lead, giving instead of taking, stirring the heat inside her body until she was flushed and breathless and needy.

  She whimpered and he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He didn’t release her right away; he simply held her, his mouth feasting on hers. Then he lowered her to her feet in a long, slow glide down the fierce heat of his hard, aroused body.

  Ronnie wasn’t sure what happened to their clothes. She remembered feeling him hot and throbbing beneath his breeches, her breasts pressed achingly against the lace of her bra. The next thing she knew, they were standing in a puddle of clothes. He drew her tight against him, kissing her deeply and thoroughly before stretching her out on the bed.

  Skin met skin as he settled over her, blocking out everything except the sight and sound and smell and feel of him. His eyes glittered with liquid blue heat. Rasping breaths parted his sensual lips. The steamy scent of sex, heat, and aroused male filled the air. Muscle corded his body, flexing and bunching with every movement.

  He kissed her again, slower this time, tasting and suckling her tongue until every nerve in her body came alive.

  Strong hands roamed over her body, arousing every nerve, making her want and crave him in a way more intense than anything she’d ever felt before. Even the dream. This was Val touching her and loving her, in every sense of the word. She felt the emotion in the reverent way he cradled her breasts, teased her nipples. The way he kissed her neck and rasped his beard-stubbled cheek across her skin, as if he sought to mark her as his.

  Then he slid down her sweat-dampened body, his lips closed over her nipple, and he suckled her with a fierce sweetness that actually brought tears to her eyes. His hand swept up the inside of her thigh and he cupped her heat. He trailed a fingertip along the slick, wet folds, before sliding one finger deep, deep inside.

  She gasped, arching into his touch, taking as much as he could give while he whispered the sweetest encouragement, telling her how warm and wet she felt, how much he wanted her, urging her to come to him, to let herself go.

  And she did, screaming his name as stars exploded behind her eyelids before everything went a shimmering black.

  “You are so beautiful.” His soft murmur brought her back to life a moment before he settled himself between her parted thighs, his hardness probing the ultrasensitive spot between her legs.

  She’d yearned for this moment since he’d first appeared to her, but for all her enthusiasm, she couldn’t help the sudden fear that bolted through her. He was so hard, so hot, so huge. Her eyes snapped open.

  This was it. The end of the line. Step fifty.

  As if he sensed her doubts, he didn’t plunge forward. Rather, he kissed her, his lips as soft and tender as his next words. “I’ll stop, chérie. I don’t want to, but I will. For you.” His gaze caught and held hers, and where she’d expected to see the self-assurance of an experienced lover, she saw a hint of uncertainty and dazed awe. “Anything for you.”

  “No.” Her hands grasped his buttocks when he started to pull away, urging him back until the tip of his erection nestled inside her. “I’m not having second thoughts. I’m just nervous. I don’t know why I’m nervous. I know all the hows. Boy do I ever, after Guidry’s class.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I know how everything’s done, I’m just afraid you’ll be disappointed. I mean, three hundred and sixty-nine women—”

  “And I cannot remember even one.”

  “But you bragged about your memory. That you knew every name, every face.”

  “I did. Before I met you.” He shook his head. “It’s the damndest thing, but try as I might, I haven’t been able to draw forth one single, solitary name. Nor a face. Only you, Rouquin.” Blue eyes drilled into her. “You are all I see when I close my eyes, all I smell, all I feel. Just you.”

  “Really?”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “My word as a gentleman.”

  “Mmm …” She wiggled, her hips drawing him a fraction deeper, feeling herself stretch. He sucked in a sharp breath. “You don’t seem like much of a gentleman right now. Why don’t you come a little closer and let me take a better look?”

  He glanced down at his chest, at her breasts crushed beneath his weight. “I don’t think I can get any closer, chérie.”

  “Did I say closer? I meant deeper.” She grasped his buttocks and spread her legs wider.

  Val thrust fast and sure and so deep Ronnie felt as if he were splitting her in two. Then he stilled, his
muscles bunched tight beneath her hands, his hard, thick length pulsing inside her.

  “Ssshhh,” he murmured against her lips, licking at a tear that slid down her cheek. “No more pain,” he promised. “Only pleasure. A lifetime”, he vowed.

  After several frantic heartbeats, the pain receded. Val moved his hips the tiniest bit and heat fluttered through her. She became increasingly aware of the delicious pressure of his sex inside her and she rotated her pelvis, giving him deeper access, begging him for more.

  He flexed his buttocks and began to move slowly, penetrating deeply. His hands played over her body, touching and caressing, building the pressure inside her. He sucked and licked her nipples until she was panting and moaning and clinging to him.

  This was going to kill her, she quickly decided as sensation spiraled along her nerve endings. Everything good in life turned lethal in the end. Chocolate—disastrous to her hips. Cheesecake—a cholesterol chisel picking at the walls of her arteries. This … ah, this … this was so good she was bound to die from the sheer pleasure of it.

  The pressure built inside her, like a pot of water just put over the burner. The heat licked at her, pleasure bubbling through her in slow, trickling ripples. Then the bubbles grew in momentum as Val moved inside her, in and out, creating a dizzying friction until it was too much. The pressure too intense. She exploded, heat bursting through her as she cried his name and felt a joy unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

  Val felt her muscles tighten around him, milking him as the ecstasy gripped her. He plunged once, twice, thrice, burying himself to the hilt as he followed her over the edge. Time lost its importance and everything faded away as he held her in his arms and exploded inside her, their hearts thundering in perfect sync.

  “I have never known a woman like you, Rouquin.” Val lay on his side, his head propped on his elbow as he traced the tip of her breast as if he’d never seen one before. “Never.”