by Terri Reid
She stirred, cuddling closer to him and, with a smile on her face, continued her dream. Bending over, he tenderly kissed her forehead and then worked his way down the side of her face and finally to her lips. He kissed the corner of her mouth and she moved towards him in her sleep. “Mmmmmm, Bradley,” she whispered.
He kissed her again, while his hands softly stroked her warm skin. She shivered and moved even closer, but still didn’t open her eyes. He started to slide his hands down her back when he happened to glance over her shoulder to the darkened corner of the room.
He heard the grandfather clock in the hallway chiming the hour as the woman stepped from the shadows. She was dressed in heavy brocade, in a fashion that was known several centuries earlier. “Sir,” she whispered. “Sir, please can you help me?”
Bradley stared in shocked surprise because, although her lips were moving and the words were coming from her mouth, her head was lying on a platter she was carrying in her arms.
Mary stirred next to him. “Bradley, you’re not kissing me,” she complained in a drowsy voice.
He gently jostled his sleeping wife. “Mary,” he whispered. “Darling, um, we have company.”
“Tell them to go away,” she said hazily and started to nibble on his chest.
“Please sir, I’m lost and I need your help,” the woman pleaded, moving closer to the bed.
He could see the raw ragged flesh where her head used to be, whatever means had been used to remove her head had not been efficient or quick.
“Mary,” he said, groaning softly as she kissed his neck. “Mary, I hate myself for saying this, but you have to stop.”
Mary purred softly and kept nuzzling him. “Bradley, you’re not being very romantic.”
This was so unfair, he decided.
“Yeah, um, babe, I want to be romantic. I mean, I really want to be romantic,” he said. “But this, um, other thing seems a little urgent.”
She sat up and sighed. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
He pointed past her. “Her,” he said. “The ghost.”
She looked over her shoulder and peered into the dark room. “Who?”
“The woman,” he exclaimed. “Next to the bed. The headless woman.”
Mary shook her head. “I can’t see her.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he said, moving away from her and sliding to the other side of the bed.
As he moved away, the ghost came into view. “Please Miss, can you help me?” the head on the platter uttered. “They’ve killed me.”
Mary looked over her shoulder to Bradley. “Oh, her,” she replied.
He slid back over next to her and wrapped his arms around her. “She kind of killed the mood,” he whispered into her ear. “Excuse the pun.”
She leaned back against him for a moment, closing her eyes and inhaling his distinct masculine scent, nearly purring as he tightened his hold on her.
Sighing she opened her eyes again and looked at the ghost. The woman had clearly been dead for centuries; she wondered how urgent her need was.
“We’re on our honeymoon,” she explained, “Do you mind…”
The head on the platter smiled. “Well, isn’t that sweet,” she said. “How long have you been married dearie?”
“Only three days,” Mary replied.
“Oh, well, bless my soul, I’ve been like this for four hundred years,” the ghost replied, moving back toward the dark corner. “You enjoy that man of yours; I’ll come back again tomorrow night, if that’s all right with you.”
Mary nodded. “That would be wonderful,” she said. “Thank you for understanding.”
She turned, pushed Bradley backwards onto the bed and leaned over him, her face just inches above his. “It’s the witching hour,” she said, leaning down to kiss him.
“Does this happen often in your bedroom?” he asked, glancing over her shoulder again.
She ran a hand up his bare chest and a wicked smile crossed her lips. “I certainly hope so.”
She bent forward and kissed him on the lips, lingering on the masculine fullness and then began kissing her way down his neck towards his chest. “Ummmm,” she purred.
“No, Mary,” he said, a soft groan escaping his lips. “That’s not what I meant.”
She bit back a smile and laid her head on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, am I really going to have to worry about…about…company every time we make love?”
She lifted her head and smiled down at him. “Bradley,” she said. “Welcome to my world.”
He stared at her for a moment, the concern fading away as he saw the twinkle in her eye. In a masterful move, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled over, so he was now leaning down over her. “Well then, I hope they enjoy a good show,” he said, his eyebrows wagging, before he crushed her lips with his own.
The End
About the author:
Terri Reid lives near Freeport, the home of the Mary O’Reilly Mystery Series, and loves a good ghost story. She lives in a hundred year-old farmhouse complete with its own ghost. She loves hearing from her readers at [email protected]
Other books by Terri Reid:
Loose Ends – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book One)
Good Tidings – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Two)
Never Forgotten - A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Three)
Final Call - A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Four)
Darkness Exposed - A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Five)
Natural Reaction – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Six)
Secret Hollows – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Seven)
Broken Promises – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Eight)
Twisted Paths – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Nine)
The Ghosts Of New Orleans -A Paranormal Research and Containment Division (PRCD) Case File
