The reporter's purse was tugged off her shoulder and the contents of it tumbled out and started flying around the room.
Portia gasped and looked around wildly. “Who did that?” She looked accusingly at Ryan and James, but they were at least six feet away. She knelt to pick up her bag and tried to collect her things but they darted out of her grasp. “If this is some sort of joke, some sort of trick to keep me quiet..."
James snickered and moved closer to Ryan. He glanced up. “I think it's out of our hands now..."
"I think you're right,” Ryan said softly. He was a little worried. Maybe Maxim wouldn't hurt him because he was the last of the line, but he could still hurt James or Portia. He looked at the reporter still scrambling for a tube of lipstick. “It's definitely not a joke,” he said gravely.
Portia started to back away from them, toward the door. “I don't know how you did that,” she stammered, “But you won't get away with trying to silence me. I'll tell everyone what the two of you are.” She reached for the doorknob and tried to turn it, but it wouldn't open. “Let me out of here this instant!” she demanded, sounding more frightened than angry.
"This isn't good,” James whispered to Ryan.
"Look, we're not doing anything. It's the ghosts. I guess they don't like you threatening an Earl,” Ryan explained. He could feel a buildup of energy, and suddenly there was a whirlwind in the room. Hair and clothing blew around, but yet the papers on the desk remained unmoved. Ryan saw Portia recoil from the door as if burned, and take a step into the room. Then suddenly she was lifted into the air, spinning around and around like some crazy carnival ride. He could hear Percy cackling out loud. “Oh, good one, Maxim!” he crowed.
The reporter screamed, her shrill voice cutting through the sound of the artificial wind. James pulled Ryan back, away from the spinning woman. “What the fuck should we do?” James whispered. If the ghost hurt Portia, there would be a lot of trouble. No one would believe a ghost had done it.
But before they could decide what to do, it was over. The phantom wind was gone as if it had never been, and Portia dropped unceremoniously to the floor, not hard enough to hurt her. The silence was broken by Percy's maniacal laughter.
Portia scrambled to her feet, unhurt but hysterical. Her eyes were wide and she'd even stopped screaming.
Ryan stared at her, blinking. He wanted ask Percy what was going on, but it would look crazy. Not that things could look any more crazy than they already did. “You guys need to stop, okay? You're gonna get me in trouble,” he said hesitantly.
Percy stepped forward, towards the reporter. It was obvious from her reaction that she could see him now because she stumbled backwards, almost falling off her feet. “Don't you appreciate the fourteenth Earl's hospitality, young lady? I call you a ‘lady’ as a formality, of course, although your actions have been exceedingly unladylike,” he purred, advancing on her.
"Wh-who are you?” she squeaked, her normally confident demeanor completely gone. She clutched her handbag in front of her like a shield.
"The eighteenth Earl, at your service,” he said sketching a brief bow. “This young man,” he said, nodding towards Ryan, “...is as deserving of your respect as all of his ancestors, and if a British subject has forgotten that fact, it is a very, very dark day for Britain."
"Percy, can you guys just let her go, now?” he asked a little weakly.
Portia was trembling, looking as if she might collapse at any moment, and James took a chance. He tried the door again and this time it opened. “You're in luck,” he said to the reporter. “They're letting you go. Go before they change their mind.” He glanced at Percy, who just nodded.
The reporter looked back and forth between the man and the ghost, and fled without another word.
James looked at Ryan. “Well, she'll either call the cops, or never tell anyone at all. I mean, who would believe her?"
Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. “That was very bad. Both of you,” he said, looking over at the portrait of the fourteenth Earl.
Percy pretended to hang his head. “Although, it really wasn't my idea at all. I had very little to do with it,” he said, grinning.
"We're supposed to believe that?” James said to Percy, smiling a little, but then his head snapped up as another ghost materialized in the room. There was no need to ask who he was; he was the spitting image of his portrait.
"It was I,” the fourteenth Earl said gravely, hovering at the back of the room as if reluctant. “That woman had no right to come into my home and threaten you.” His voice was stern and hoarse, his face pinched.
Ryan blinked and stared at him, unable to even speak. This was the ghost that had tossed him around and been threatening up until today. And he'd killed Percy.
Percy stared, too. “Maxim?” he said, all trace of foolishness or bravado gone from his voice.
"Who else would it be?” the ghost snapped, expression stern.
James said to Ryan, “I thought he never..."
Ryan stepped closer to James. “I don't know.” He couldn't help but feel apprehensive. Even Percy looked a little pale, if that was possible.
Percy frowned a little and folded his arms over his chest, although the gesture didn't seem particularly confident. “So you scared away the reporter. Good job. What are you going to do next?” he asked a little warily.
The stern ghost was silent for a moment, as if considering. He floated closer to Percy, and everyone in the roof held their breath.
James wrapped his arm around Ryan, though perhaps it wasn't the smartest thing to do given the circumstances.
The ghost circled around Percy and floated halfway between the other ghost and the human couple. He regarded Ryan. “I thought you might be different,” he said a little sadly. “I though you might be the one to break this family's curse. You are not from here. Yet you are just as decadent as he was,” he said, indicating Percy. “If not more so."
Ryan was frightened, but he wasn't cowed. “It's not a curse. There are a lot of homosexuals in the world. It's not decadent, just different. And some people think it's hereditary. Like hair color or a pointy chin.” He set his lips, trying not to shiver at being confronted with the violent spirit. “Did you kill Percy on purpose?” he blurted.
That made Percy gasp. He glared at Ryan for a moment, but then his interest turned to Maxim's answer.
James tightened his grip on Ryan, but said nothing, waiting for the ghost's answer as well.
"I did not kill him!” Maxim said with great affront. “Did he tell you that?"
"No, I did,” Percy's mother cut in, floating through a wall.
Ryan's eyes widened. It was becoming a regular ghost tea party.
"Mother, I wish you would stay out of this,” Percy said softly. “I can handle this myself."
"I'm supposed to stay out of it when the person who murdered my son finally deigns to make an appearance?” Sophia demanded, and turned to Maxim.
"I did no such thing!” Maxim said, drifting back a little from the female ghost's ire. “It was an accident.” The ghost looked at Percy for a moment, then looked down and continued in a softer voice, “I truly did not mean for the chandelier to fall."
Percy raised an eyebrow. He stepped forward. “So it was an accident,” he said flatly. “I was happy, you bastard. I had an heir, a fine boy. I had a wife who was happy. I had a lover. What possible good did you do, trying to change what couldn't be changed?” he asked, growing more irritated with each word. “You robbed me of a wonderful life, for what? Your family pride?” he spat. “You're the aberration in this family, not I!"
Maxim actually looked shocked, and a little cowed. “You were flaunting your perversion in my home! Have you no pride in your heritage? No shame?"
James’ gaze sought Ryan's, and they watched in silence. Ryan slid his arm discreetly around James’ back, leaning against him a little. This would either be very good or very, very bad.
"It was my bloody home, too. The only ‘perve
rsion’ was all the Earls before and since who denied their true selves and ruined the lives of innocent women in the process. My mother threw herself out of a window because her loving husband couldn't stand to touch her,” he growled. “Is that how things should be? Cloaked in denial and shame? How many other countesses cried themselves to an early grave? This is not something any of us have chosen. It is what we are. Ryan is right. There is no curse. Only pig-headedness. That certainly runs in this family."
Maxim was silent for a moment, and everyone in the room, dead and living alike, gaped at Percy after his eloquent outburst.
Finally Maxim spoke up, quietly. “I was trying to protect our family, our heritage.” He looked from Ryan, being held close by James, to the eternally grieving Sophia, to the wrongfully killed Percy. “I am sorry if in my fervor I made mistakes.” He looked down.
Percy stared at him. “Did you just apologize?” he asked softly.
Maxim blinked. “Yes, I suppose I did.” He faced Sophia. “I am sorry about your son. I truly did not mean for him to die. I wanted to frighten him.” He turned to Percy. “I am sorry, I truly am. I suppose I am a bitter old man who could not stand to see anyone else happy when I never was.” He looked away. “I thought I brought it all about,” he said softly. “Because I too was depraved in my own heart. Though I never acted upon it.” His ghostly back was to the rest of them.
Ryan felt sorry for him. He'd obviously spent his entire life denying his own heart.
Percy approached Maxim and put his hand on his shoulder. “It's all in the past now,” he said quietly. “I forgive you."
James’ eyes widened and he looked at Ryan.
Maxim looked up at Percy in surprise. “You do?” he whispered, voice tentative.
Sophia drifted closer. “We were all doomed to sorrow."
Percy patted Maxim's back. “Yes. Let's let it go now. These young people know what they're about. Ryan won't allow our line to die out. As long as there are Elgins we will have a legacy, Maxim."
Ryan couldn't help but smile. Maybe things were going to be all right after all.
James blinked a little. It looked as if the ghosts were starting to fade from sight. He finally spoke up. “Are you leaving? Forever?” he asked.
Maxim and the other ghosts turned to face Ryan and James. Sophia spoke first. “I feel a lightening in my soul,” she said, smiling a little at her son.
"Percy?” Ryan said, a little alarmed. He'd come to enjoy the flamboyant ghost's company. But he knew it was right that they move on.
"Don't let anyone tell you how to live your life, Ryan,” Percy said, growing fainter by the moment.
"Be happy, my boy,” Maxim said, with one more look at the two men. “And forgive me..."
And then, as quickly as they had appeared, they were all gone.
James turned to Ryan. “Wow,” he said. “I might actually miss them."
"Me, too,” Ryan said wistfully. He turned to face James and put his arms around him. “But I'm glad if they found peace,” he whispered, smiling at him.
"You think they're really gone for good?” James wondered, then he bent to kiss Ryan gently on the lips.
A throat being cleared made James pull back in alarm.
A ghostly throat, anyway. “I see you've forgotten about me already,” the twenty-fifth Earl said with amusement.
Ryan pulled back from James and blushed. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “But you don't need to protect me anymore, right?"
The ghostly figure considered. “No, I suppose I don't,” he said with bemusement. “Pity. I'd come to enjoy floating about like this."
"I didn't mean to sound like I was dismissing you. I appreciate your protection. Really. I'll do everything I can to be a good Earl,” Ryan offered.
"Well, your safety seems assured,” the Earl agreed. “But there is still the matter of an heir."
Ryan squirmed a little. “Honestly, I hadn't even thought about having kids at all. This is all so new to me. It's not like I was raised with this manifest destiny of procreating. You'll have to be a little patient about that,” Ryan said. He wasn't ruling it out, but he wasn't going to lay down any definite plans without discussing it with James first, and it was way too soon for that.
The Earl seemed to consider. “Perhaps you are right. But certainly you must consider the, shall we say, mechanics of it at some point. Perhaps I should just pop by and check on you once in a while."
Ryan smiled. “You're welcome any time. Um, as long as you, you know. Knock first.” He blushed a little and glanced at James.
James hugged Ryan close to him, and smiled.
"I shall bid you farewell, then,” the ghost said, bowing slightly and fading from view.
"Bye,” James said with a wave.
Ryan turned to James again. “Now we're really alone,” he whispered. He could feel that the very atmosphere was lighter. He almost felt happier. “It feels different in here, doesn't it?"
James shrugged. “It's quieter, at any rate,” he said. He stepped closer to Ryan. “I think we should take advantage of the fact that we're alone,” he said, standing only an inch or so from him.
"Mm? And how do you propose taking advantage of that fact?” he asked, grinning a little. He didn't retreat, but he didn't touch him, either.
James’ smile widened. “There are dozens of rooms in this house that we haven't even kissed in,” he said suggestively.
Ryan got an evil idea. “Are you up for a game of hide and seek?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
James’ eyes widened. “Hide and seek? What do you mean?"
"I mean you give me to the count of ten and then you have to find me. But when you do, you won't regret it.” He grinned broadly, giving James a wink.
"Hmm,” James said, smiling. “And when I find you, do I get a prize?"
"Just me,” he said with a little shrug. “Are you up for it?"
James laughed. “Oh, I'm definitely up for it. You're the best prize of all.” He paused, then began to count. “One..."
"Hey! You have to close your eyes!” he laughed. He darted out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He darted up the stairs, tossing his t-shirt over the railing as he went.
James laughed and counted, slowly and loudly, until he reached ten.
Ryan ran down the hallway, kicking off shoes and opening doors. He randomly tossed pieces of clothing into rooms as red herrings. Then he ducked in a room, closing the door silently.
James opened the door and called out, “Ready or not, here I come!"
Ryan could hear him coming up the stairs. The door opened, finally.
Ryan was lying on his stomach, facing the door, his head propped up on his elbows, his jeans dangling from the post of the four poster bed. He smiled broadly at him.
James just stopped and looked at his boyfriend for a long moment. His cock pressed against the inside of his jeans insistently, and he advanced slowly. “I found you,” he breathed, licking his lips.
Ryan smiled seductively. “So you did.” He rolled over onto his back, his arms wide and his head hanging off the side to look back at James, his cock very obviously hard. “I guess you win,” he purred.
James moaned softly as his cock pulsed. “I think we both win,” he whispered, climbing up on the bed and straddling Ryan's body. He was still fully clothed, and he leaned forward, pinning Ryan down to the bed. Their cocks pressed together, separated by James’ jeans, and he moaned at the pressure. “Want you,” he breathed.
Ryan moaned softly. “I want you, too. So much James. More than I've ever wanted anyone before,” he panted.
"Same here,” James said, rubbing against the other man. “No one's ever made me ache like this.” He lowered his head and kissed Ryan deeply.
Ryan writhed beneath him, enjoying the kiss but anxious to have nothing separating them. He wanted to feel skin against skin, although he couldn't deny there was something about this that was inherently sexy, and made him feel vulnerable.
; The way Ryan reacted to him seemed to drive James mad. He ran one hand all over Ryan, savoring the feel of his smooth skin and hard flesh. He pulled back, panting, and whispered, “Mine. All mine."
Ryan moaned at James’ words. Nothing could possibly be sexier to him than that possessiveness. “Only yours,” he whispered, staring up into James’ eyes. “Thank you. For staying through all the weirdness. I don't know what I would have done without you."
James smiled down at Ryan. “A few ghosts aren't enough to get rid of me. Now that you've shown me what real love is like.” He bent to kiss him once again.
Ryan sighed happily into the kiss. Real love. It made the huge, drafty, ostentatious castle feel like home to him. Ghosts, heirs, and servants be damned. They would work it all out somehow.
James began to kiss lower, licking at Ryan's neck. Ryan tipped his head back, whimpering. “Mmm, that's nice,” he purred hoarsely. Everything James did to him only made him more excited, more aroused. “You make me crazy for you,” he whispered.
James smiled against Ryan's warm skin and continued to kiss him.
Ryan still hadn't caught on to James’ intentions. He was lost in the feeling of being touched and kissed, of being naked and safe and in love. He ran his fingers through James’ hair, looking down at him with overflowing adoration. It felt so perfect, and he moaned quietly, panting for breath.
As he kissed Ryan, James started to run his hands up the inside of his thighs. He moved lower, spread his lover's legs gently, until he could settle between them. Now he was kissing Ryan's lower belly, eyes fixed on his pretty face.
Ryan's eyes widened, and he gasped when he realized what was going on. He swallowed hard. “You d-don't have to d-do that, James,” he whimpered. He couldn't even get his mind around the concept of being in James’ mouth.
"I know,” James answered, smiling up at him. “But I want to,” he said, hot breath blowing over Ryan's arousal. He looked down at the hard flesh, then back up again. “Unless you don't want me to..."
Ghost of a Chance Page 18
