“Lassie, are you sure you’re all right?” the housekeeper asked, her voice anxious. “I can call the house physician. He will visit the room to examine you.”
Shanna partially turned her head, now desperately wanting the woman to leave. “I don’t need a doctor, but if you don’t mind, we’d like to be alone.”
“We?”
“Ma’am, please—”
“Mrs. Thatcher. My name is Mrs. Thatcher,” the woman said.
Shanna inhaled sharply. “Mrs. Thatcher—”
“Be nice, love,” Niall intruded. “She has a feisty tongue. Guest or not, she won’t hesitate to give you a verbal throttling.”
Shanna ran her eyes along his face then turned toward the woman. “Mrs. Thatcher, I’m sorry, I’m just really exhausted. Would you mind cleaning another time?”
“As you wish,” the woman harrumphed. After gathering a feather duster and shoving a slender can she’d removed from the nightstand into her apron pocket, she shuffled across the room, glaring at Shanna. “But don’t complain to management because your room isn’t polished. I won’t tolerate it,” she grumped as she yanked the sweeper by the handle and pushed it into the hall.
When the door clicked shut, Niall brought Shanna’s fingers to his mouth and placed a warm, lingering kiss on her knuckles. His eyes narrowed into thin slits and he gazed at her as if wanting to taste test every inch of her body.
“How can I convince you to stay?” he asked, his breath slithering across her wrist.
If he continued kissing her like that it wouldn’t take much. “You can’t. Derek and I specifically came here to celebrate our one-year engagement. Now that he’s gone, it’s pointless to stick around.” She glanced at their hands. “Besides, there are no other rooms available in the hotel and I absolutely refuse to stay in this one.”
“Nothing will hurt you.”
How could he say that? He’d never encountered a ghost. And if he’d been fucked by one, she was sure he’d have a totally different outlook. Well, unless he’d enjoy it as much as she had, but that was beside the point. At least he believed in them—she didn’t have that hurdle to battle. “If you experienced what I did last night, you’d understand.”
“Tell me.”
Her gaze rose to his eyes. “I’d rather not.”
“Did it shove you?”
Yes. Well, figuratively speaking. “I wish that were all,” she replied, glancing at her lap.
He lifted her chin. “Maybe there’s a logical explanation.”
“Like?”
“Without knowing what happened, I can’t say.”
Well, this ought to be good. Logic? Right. Now the question was whether or not to look into his eyes while spilling her guts. With her gaze focused on her lap she inhaled a calming breath. “You’re going to think I’ve lost my mind.”
“Try me.”
Okay, you asked for it. “It, um,” she paused and chewed on the inside corner of her mouth. Should she be vulgar or act like the lady her mother raised her to be? “Fucked me,” spilled from her lips. Well, that took care of that.
When he didn’t respond in a reasonable two seconds, she raised her eyes. His arched brows were complemented by a lopsided grin.
“See, you do think I’m crazy,” she added haphazardly.
“I don’t, but I’d prefer you refer to it as making love.”
A ghost making love to her? That sounded ridiculous. “I told you what happened, now let’s hear the logical explanation.”
His lids narrowed. “Did you enjoy it?”
Of course she did. No! How could she? Having sex with a ghost? It was comparable to pumping air. Not really. Something real and solid plunged in and out of her pussy while she saw nothing but air. Seriously? But it felt so good. Oh, stop it! She was crazy. What kind of a question was that anyhow? “Let’s just forget we had this conversation, okay?”
“My guess, love, is your mind tried healing your heartache by soothing you with a lifelike dream.”
Yeah, that was it. A lifelike dream. To heal her heartache. Yesterday she might’ve believed it after the first sexual encounter because she’d needed an excuse to convince herself nothing happened. But after the bathroom bang moments later, nuh-uh, she knew better. “You’re right, Niall. I was also jet-lagged from the long flight.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “The circles around your eyes are deepening. Why don’t you rest a while in bed? I won’t let you sleep long.”
Despite yearning to protest, she followed him to the bed and lay down, squeezing his hand in desperation. “You won’t leave me, will you?”
The mattress sank beneath his weight as he took a seat beside her waist and brought her fingers to his lips. “No, Shanna, I promise I won’t leave you.”
Chapter Four
Niall resituated the pillow beneath Shanna’s head, removed her shoes then pulled the plush chair to the side of the bed and sat, propping his feet on the mattress. He hadn’t realized the extent of her exhaustion until she’d fallen asleep within minutes of lying down.
He felt a little restless himself. Normally he’d work through it by walking the halls or gardens. But he had no intention of breaking his promise to Shanna by deserting her now.
He’d already betrayed her once. Actually twice.
Shame on him.
But how could he explain he was her phantom lover last night without her running scared? She’d be terrified of him. How could he clarify his situation and expect her to understand?
It was too soon. As wrong as it was, damn it, it was way too soon to disclose the truth. He needed to gain her trust before dropping bombs. Without it she may decide to ban him from her life. And he’d have to honor those wishes and stay away. Right now it just wasn’t worth the risk.
Nor had he intended to make of fool of her in the restaurant when she appeared to be talking to herself. He’d been so encapsulated by her beauty and marveled over the fact that she could see him, he overlooked those details.
He stretched his arms overhead then crossed them at his chest and gazed at her beautiful features. And that’s how he’d spent the next hour—studying her relaxed expression. Thick, dark lashes rested against her delicate cheekbones as her lips twitched periodically, forming into a slight smile. Pleasant, peaceful dreams seemed to miraculously aid in fading the underlying circles beneath her eyes.
Her lids danced as if she were searching for something or someone in her sleep. Today those gorgeous, unique turquoise eyes lacked sparkle and brightness because fear and pain had overshadowed their passion. But he knew what lay beneath the mask. And he feared it wouldn’t take much coaxing before he fell under her spell. Actually it wouldn’t take much more coaxing. He already teetered on that fine line and it was just a matter of time before he completely dropped. Hell, his emotions died a long time ago and he’d never anticipated falling in love again. Falling in love. Making love. Being in love. It all evolved from the heart. And his had been empty for a long time.
Since the night his Abigail died near the sea.
He’d planned on making her his bride but minutes before the opportunity to ask for her hand had presented itself, Bridget Chichester, daughter to Sir Henry Chichester, a British landowner who once occupied Castle Tullamore, had been maddened by envy of Abigail’s beauty and pushed her off a cliff to her death. What Niall and Abigail once claimed as their isolated haven turned into the horrific scene of his beloved’s demise.
Niall closed his eyes as the memory unraveled. That night, as the waves crashed into the shore, Abigail stood on the cliff awaiting his arrival where they’d made love numerous times before. Dressed in a white gown with her long, red locks dancing in the wind, the moonlight cascaded over her silhouette, illuminating her beauty. Niall had stopped in his tracks, gaping at the breathtaking sight. And just as he ascended the final step to the flat terrain which flowed toward the cliffs, someone wearing a dark, hooded cape charged from Abigail’s right side and gave her a shove.
Niall shouted and froze, watching in slow motion as Abigail disappeared over the edge toward the sea, perishing right before his eyes. He’d never forget her screams or the face of the woman who, seemingly shocked by his presence, stopped and stared at him before she fled into the night.
His mind shut down. The instant he reached the cliff he saw Abigail lying in a pool of blood on the rocky shore below—her body and limbs broken and twisted. In the realm of pure hell, he contemplated jumping to his death. As his toes dangled over the edge he grasped hold of his emotions and he charged to the shore in a miraculous attempt to revive her. But when he reached the bottom, her body was gone. The cold, roaring waves had captured her and pulled her out to sea. He froze, staring at the turbulent water that’d swallowed her into its depths, and he’d fallen to his knees.
The vision still haunted him to this day. For six months they’d steadily met in their haven. Sometimes they even followed the path around Griffin’s Lough and ventured through the Bás Woods, also known as The Woods of Death, for a thrill. The woods were the site of wolf massacres around the 1700’s, which drove the animals to extinction. The history intrigued Abigail and at times she’d stop and listen, swearing she could hear growling and howls in the distance. Niall never heard the sounds but used her overzealous imagination to his advantage by agreeing he’d heard them too. She’d squeal then squeeze herself close to his body, where he’d tuck her under his arm until they reached the cliffs. Their lovemaking was much more intense when they reached the top after enduring those romps.
He sighed and rubbed a kink out of the base of his neck out of habit. If Bridget Chichester hadn’t stopped to look at him that night, she might have gotten away with the crime. Despite her noble bloodline guaranteeing her freedom, she eventually died at the hands of Abigail’s brother, Rory, a disgruntled servant of Sir Henry’s. Bridget’s body was found hanging from a tree in Bás Woods shortly after her trial. Poor Rory, having taken justice into his own hands for the sake of his sister, was convicted of murder by Sir Henry and publicly beheaded.
To this day, Bridget still wandered the land, wreaking havoc on others.
Many nights Niall heard female laughter echoing from deep in the section of woods where she’d been hanged. He’d chased it on foot, trampling through thick trees and heavy brush, but never encountered an apparition to prove it was her spirit haunting the property. The noose still hung from the branch and swayed at times, but he attested the motion to the sea breeze blowing in from Griffin’s Lough.
“Hi.” Shanna’s voice startled him and captured his attention. He opened his eyes just as she stretched, arching her back. Her glossy gaze captured his and her eyes twinkled when she smiled. “You’re still here,” she stated, seemingly intrigued.
“I promised I wouldn’t leave you.” Having just returned from the intimate memory of his beloved, his heart ached for Shanna. He understood the throes of pain she suffered from the loss of her fiancé. While in the café, he noticed sadness had fluctuated in and out of her expression. At least the circles beneath her eyes had disappeared and she now looked rested. “And I never break promises, love.”
She sat up, glancing around the room. “Is everything okay? Did you hear or see anything?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing?”
“Not a sound.” He stood from the chair and took a seat beside her on the bed.
She did a double take, her gaze roaming from the window to the entrance door. “You’re positive?”
“Yes.” He laughed slightly.
“No dark shadows?” She batted her lashes.
“None.” If he didn’t stop the meaningless chatter this could go on all day. He rubbed her cheek with the back side of his hand, which steadied her blinking eyes. “Relax.” When her shoulders slumped he guided her on to her back on the bed. “Can I kiss you, love?” He’d been dying to for over an hour.
She studied his face wildly before she released a sigh. “Yes.”
He lightly padded his lips against the outside corners of her mouth. “And will you let me make love to you?”
She gulped.
“It may alleviate your heartache.” He gently planted a trail of kisses to her ear. Her breath quickened and rustled through his hair. “I can help you forget the pain,” he whispered.
“Not,” she gulped again, “here, Niall. Can we go to your room?”
He nibbled her delicate skin beneath her lobe. “I don’t reside in the castle. I have a cottage on the outskirts of Tullamore.”
“Can we go there instead?”
“If you don’t mind trudging on foot through the Bás Woods.”
“I’d love to see the sights anyhow,” she said, rolling from beneath him and taking a stance beside the bed.
He raised his brows while visually assessing her short, formfitting black dress while she stood squeezing and un-squeezing her fists. The length stopped mid-thigh, exposing lean, well-proportioned legs. He stifled a whistle while raising his gaze along her slender waistline. The sweater hung open along the center of her breasts but it didn’t conceal the low, swooping bodice. His eyes settled on her cleavage. And a mighty fine view it was. “You do know the woods are believed to be haunted?” he said, lifting his gaze. “Hundreds of animals and people lost their lives during the wolf massacres.”
She chewed her lower lip. “I’ve heard very little about it, but what place around here isn’t haunted?” Her eyes widened. “Is the cottage?”
“No, love. There are no ghosts hiding in my home.” He ran his eyes up and down her body once more. “Do you have warm clothing?”
Shaking her head, she tugged on the bottom of her sweater. “Just this and a light jacket.”
“Then get it and let’s go.” Smiling, he watched as she walked across the room, her bottom wiggling the entire way. He narrowed his eyelids while she removed a thin red jacket from a piece of luggage and tugged it on over her sweater. “What about boots, Shanna? Do you have a pair? It’s going to be a muddy stroll.”
Her face lit up. “I do.”
Out of the same suitcase she removed two black leather fashion boots. He shook his head as she slipped them on her feet. They had five-inch spiked heels and silver buckles crisscrossed along the front. Damn. Sexy and seductive. He whistled through his teeth as a burning ache settled in his balls. “Very stylish, love, but is that the best you can do?” Hell, he didn’t mind in the least, but he couldn’t imagine her walking through leaves and twigs and muck without breaking an ankle.
She nodded while zipping them into place. “I prepared for an indoor vacation. It isn’t unfolding as I’d anticipated.”
“Would you like to grab something to eat first?”
“No. I’m okay.” After tossing her purse strap over her shoulder she wrapped her hands around his arm and walked out of the room to the lift.
* * * * *
Shanna tightened her grip on Niall’s arm as they quickened their pace through the thick woods. Wet leaves and mud made for a very slippery journey. Every three or four steps one or both of her heels sank in the muck, but she promptly pulled them free in her rush to the cottage. Niall asked to make love to her and she wanted that so badly she tasted it. Would he reconsider? It could’ve been a spur-of-the-moment decision and his mood might have diminished since then. After all, he asked if he could kiss her too, but never gave her a full smack on the lips.
It must have rained for days prior to her arrival in Ireland for the ground to be that wet. Although it didn’t appear any amount of sunshine could breach the thicket to dry it out.
The walk wasn’t bad at first because they’d followed a gravel path to a line of trees, which separated the woods from the castle grounds. Some of the branches were completely bare and others were covered in yellow and gold leaves. It was beyond those trees where things started getting interesting for her feet. And the worst part? They had to come back the same route.
“How much farther, Niall?” she asked. The
deeper they moved into the woods, the eerier the surroundings grew. She swore—and she knew it was only her imagination—that she heard growls and twigs snapping at their backs. She shuddered on and off most of the way and squeezed his forearm accordingly.
“It’s right up here, love.” He pointed straight ahead to where she saw a small white cottage in the distance. It sort of reminded her of a gingerbread house.
The wind kicked up but the thick brush blocked most of its strength. Still, it howled above their heads as if autumn ghosts were vying for attention. Goose flesh rose all over her body, prickling her skin as the hairs stood up. She moved closer to Niall for warmth. How could he not be cold with no shirt on?
Just then female laughter assailed her ears. She halted, tugging Niall’s arm. “What was that!” she screeched, darting her gaze around the surroundings. Her heels sank all five inches. She teetered backward, losing balance, and tightened her grip on Niall to break the inevitable fall into the mud. His hand snaked around her back and he yanked her close to his chest, securing her on her feet.
“What was what?”
“It sounded like a woman laughing. You didn’t hear it?”
“No.” He shook his head but he appeared alert as if he’d heard it too, but chose to lie for Shanna’s sake.
“Come on.” She took off, pulling him along. Gnarled tree branches grabbed at her clothes and hair. She batted them away and ducked under the taller branches to avoid scratching her face or getting clobbered in the head.
She concentrated mostly on her feet so as not to trip as the moist ground squished, splattering mud on her boots. But she refused to slow down and she trudged forward until they stood on a platform of concrete in front of the cottage.
The tiny building thirsted for a fresh coat of paint. It was weathered beyond rustic and appeared to have been abandoned a long time ago. Weeds stood nearly as high as the windows and a film of grime covered the glass. “You live here, Niall?”
Phantom Mischief Page 6
