by Bess McBride
I watched as Darius’s face colored again. He pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze to studiously examine the fruit bar in his hand.
“I see.”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry.” I bit my tongue—and it hurt. “That’s probably not a word you all used that often back then, was it? What did you used to call it? Expecting? In the family way?”
Darius coughed behind his hand. “I am sure I never had occasion to use the term at all.” He mumbled and turned away but swung back almost immediately. “I was wondering...”
I waited, but he seemed to be struggling for words.
“Well, that is...I was wondering if I might borrow a towel?”
“What? You want to take a bath?” I stared at him.
“Well, it has been...em...some time since I bathed. It did not seem to matter when I was alone. Rinsing my face and hands with plain cold water can only do so much. As long as I am up and about, as it were, I would like to be presentable. And since I am near you...” His eyes twinkled again.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—or throw myself into his arms and offer to wash his hair.
“I-I...I never thought of it.” I shoved my hands deeper into my robe pockets. “Do you feel dirty?” I reddened at the unfortunate wording. “I mean...does it feel like you haven’t bathed in...what?...a hundred and thirty years?”
Before I knew what was happening, Darius moved to stand beside me, his face only inches from mine.
“What do you think? Do I smell as if I need a bath?”
I would have jumped back except that I was pressed up against the sink with nowhere to go. I closed my eyes against his penetrating gaze, and inhaled. He smelled of the outdoors—like freshly mowed grass...with a hint of sweet chocolate on his breath.
“Ummm...no, you don’t smell like you need a bath, but you’re welcome to one.” I pushed past him and hurried into the living room. “I’ll just get the towel, blanket and pillow for you,” I called over my shoulder as I tripped up the stairs, willing my erratically beating heart to slow down.
I ran into the bathroom, scooped up my discarded clothes from the floor and tidied a bit before grabbing a clean towel out of the moving box and setting it on top. Did he need a razor? Did ghosts shave? I shuddered, and dived back into the box to pull out a disposable razor and shaving lotion, placing them by the towel.
Then I headed to my bedroom, found a spare blanket and pillow in another box, and carried them downstairs.
“Your cat...Sassy, is it?...and I are getting along just fine.”
And indeed the independent feline, who accepted only the occasional odd caress from me, luxuriated on Darius’s lap as he sat on the incongruous modern orange sofa. A fierce whirring could be heard from Sassy’s general direction as Darius stroked her ears.
I gave the innocent-eyed cat an irritated look and wondered how I could usurp her and take her place so Darius could rub the back of my ears.
“Is something wrong, Molly?”
I glanced up to catch Darius watching me with a lift of his lips. My cheeks heated and I gave my head a fervent shake.
“Oh, no. It’s just she doesn’t usually like to be touched, that’s all.”
“Well, she certainly seems to be enjoying it now.” He picked Sassy up and put her aside with a gentle motion. I extended the blanket and pillow to him, keeping my distance. He rose to his feet, took the blanket and pillow from my hands and set them on the sofa.
“I have a feeling she’s going to jump up and sleep with you in the night.” I was so jealous of that cat.
Darius turned to look at Sassy, now testing the softness of the blanket with a tiny paw.
“I will enjoy the warmth of being near another living being.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “There’s no central heating or cooling yet. I think they’re coming to install it next week. And I don’t have any wood for the fireplace either.”
Darius favored me with a pointed look.
“That is not quite what I meant, Molly.” With a disarming grin, he picked up the towel, walked past me and climbed the stairs. I stared after him while my mind whirled through several different scenarios in which he enjoyed the warmth of another living being. Did he mean me? I fervently hoped so. Could that ever be? I remembered the feel of his lips against mine two weeks ago, the warmth of his arms as he held me tight. He seemed real enough. The sound of footsteps on the stairs brought me out of my reverie, and I looked up as Darius returned to the living room with a sheepish expression.
“Where, might I ask, did you acquire that rather pleasant-looking steamy hot water in your bath? Is there a ready source available? And a bucket to transport it?”
“From the faucet.” Though it took me a few seconds to realize what he was asking, I clasped my hands behind my back and gave him an innocent gaze, prepared for a bit of fun.
“The faucet? In the bathtub?” He knotted his brow and glanced at the ceiling as if he could see the tub. He’d shed his jacket, undone his black tie and loosened the high collar of his long-sleeved cotton white shirt. His dark gray vest emphasized broad shoulders and a slender waist.
“Yes, the faucet. There’s a hot water faucet and a cold water faucet. Just turn them. The water will come.”
“Really? When I ordered the tub there were no such fixtures. I must go see.” He pivoted and disappeared back up the stairs. I followed him to the bottom of the stairs and tilted my head upward, listening.
The old pipes groaned and gurgled once again, and I heard the sound of running water. A loud shout followed by several colorful, if old-fashioned, curses galvanized me into action, and I raced up the stairs and down the short hallway to burst into the open bathroom.
“What’s the matter? What happened?”
Darius held his left hand in the air while he twisted and pulled the porcelain faucet knobs with his right hand.
“The blasted water is as hot as... as...” He glanced at me hastily and bit his lip. “How do I get the wicked thing to stop spewing forth?”
I chuckled and sauntered over to the bathtub to twist the knobs and test the water with my fingers.
“Here! I’ll adjust it for you. Big baby.”
“Baby? I beg your pardon! I have likely scarred my hand permanently. Do you have any salve for it?”
I turned to him with a raised brow.
“Salve? No! You don’t need any salve. You’ll be just fine. It’s just a slight burn. All you need to do is get undressed and hop into the water. I’ve adjusted it for you, and it’s quite comfy now.”
“Comfy? Hmpff...” Darius reached down with his previously so-called injured left hand and dipped a finger into the bathwater.
“Well, that is better,” he said slightly mollified. “Thank you. You can turn that thing off now. I take it my...em...family attempted some modernization with the addition of the scalding water.” His disdainful expression showed what he thought of his family’s modernization.
I watched him in amusement. He would make me laugh, this man as he struggled to find his way in a different century. My heart swelled with adoration. I wanted to grab him and hug him. At the moment, he reminded me of a precocious teenaged boy who indulged in spurts of his former childishness alternating with unexpected moments of dignity and maturity.
It occurred to me though, that he might just view me in the same way. My own behavior had been less than sensible and mature over the last few weeks.
I rolled my eyes at the thought as I bent forward to twist the knobs on the faucets. Feeling very motherly at the moment, I stood back with my arms crossed and regarded him with a raised eyebrow.
“And you think you’re going to be able to handle modern power tools and wiring, eh?”
Darius straightened to his full height, an unconsciously sensual move that made my heart jump in the most unmotherly way.
“I assure you, my dear, I am quite competent,” he said. “I do believe that whoever installed this ‘hot water’ did a poor job o
f it. Otherwise, I should not have burnt my hand.” A twitch of his lips belied the scornful look on his face.
“And now, if you will permit me,” he added. “I intend to take my first bath in a hundred years.” He began to unbutton his vest with his once injured hand, which appeared to be working just fine. “Unless you would care to join me?” A daring glint in his blue eyes sent me running from the bathroom, but not before I saw the blush on his face even as he teased me. He would have died had I called his bluff.
Chased by the sound of his chuckles, I fled to my room and slammed the door shut. Sassy, apparently having followed everyone upstairs but stopping short at the hated sound of running water in the bathroom, sat on her haunches on the end of my bed, ears perked, eyes wide open and expectant.
“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not going to hop all over me tonight, Miss Kitty. I’m not going to get any sleep as it is.” I picked her up and put her just outside the door.
Darius had apparently decided to leave the door of the bathroom open, and I could hear him humming. I would have given anything to be Sassy at the moment and tiptoe up to the bathroom door as she did, but I dared not. It was bad enough having a ghost in my bathtub. The last thing I needed to do was turn into a peeping Thomasina.
I eased my door shut, turned out the uncertain pale yellow light cast by the old porcelain light fixture on the ceiling and crossed the room to get into bed. Soft luminescent moonlight filled the room, and I relished the familiar feel of my mattress and pillow in such unfamiliar circumstances.
I lay awake, waiting to hear Darius descend the stairs. It seemed a full half hour passed before I heard the sound of footsteps going down the hall. They paused at my door, and I pulled the covers up to my chin... waiting... hoping... dreading. The footsteps moved on, and I heard Darius talking to Sassy in a low voice as he descended the stairs.
I loosened my grip on the covers and stared at the moonlight coming in through the window, hoping with all my might that Darius would still be there in the morning. We had absolutely no future together. How could we? But today was enough. Tomorrow would be even better. As he had once said to me...I could not bear to lose him.
Apparently, I must have managed to fall asleep because I awakened to the most horrible screeching sound imaginable. It sounded like someone or something was being tortured.
Darius! I jumped out of bed and stumbled to the door, stubbing my toe against the bed along the way. Fortunately, the moonlight filling the room allowed me to see the top of the stairs as I opened the door.
“Darius,” I shouted. “Are you all right?” I clutched the railing and leaned against it as I followed it down in the dark. “Darius?”
“Molly! What is it, my love? Are you all right?”
I reached the bottom of the stairs, pathetically grateful to hear Darius’s voice. I followed the streaks of moonlight coming through the living room window and turned in the direction of his voice. The terrible screaming erupted again, and it sounded as if it were coming from outside.
“Oh!” I gasped as I fell into Darius’s arms...or rather he pulled me into them. “What’s happening? What is that poor thing?” By now, I realized the sound was that of some helpless animal screaming in pain.
Darius held me against his chest, and I didn’t fight him off—not for one second. At the moment, I was too terrified to think straight. For a ghost, he seemed remarkably warm. He wore no shirt. His chest was bare except for a layer of soft masculine hair, and his skin smelled clean and fresh after his bath. His heart beat loudly, although the rhythm seemed to jump a bit as I pressed my face against his chest.
“Should we go outside and see if we can help?” I whispered in dread.
I heard a deep rumble in Darius’s chest, and his shoulders shook.
“I think me must not interfere. The poor creature does not have much time left.”
“What?” I hissed as I pulled back to peer at his face in the moonlight. Only the gleam of his teeth as he grinned was visible. I struggled to get out of his arms, but he did not release me, though his hold was gentle.
“I have to do something, Darius! I can’t just sit here and listen to the pain. What’s happening? Something is killing something out there. What if it’s Marmaduke? What if he’s hurt?” I cried as I twisted to face the front door.
Just then, as if he heard me, Marmaduke jumped onto the outside sill of the large picture window by the front door, and I gasped.
“Marmaduke! There you are!”
Darius released me as I headed for the front door to let the cat in. He trotted into the darkened room and ran past me up the stairs.
“Oh, no, you don’t, buddy. You’re not spending the night in my room. Don’t even think about it!” I called as I turned to lock the front door.
“And there is your tortured creature, my dear,” Darius murmured close behind me. I heard the laughter in his voice. “He looks well enough now. Quite content, I might add.”
I realized then what I’d heard. I turned around to face him, a little lightheaded at his close proximity. “Oh, for goodness sake! That was Marmaduke? I take it he was—” I didn’t finish. I was desperate to take a breath, but he stood so close, it seemed I would breathe the air that he did—as if that were a bad thing.
Darius braced one hand against the door above my head and rested the other on his hip. Thank goodness, he had worn his trousers to bed.
“Yes, I’m afraid he is sowing the last of his oats as it were. The poor fellow obviously realizes his days of romance are coming to an abrupt end.”
I could have ducked under his arm and made a dash for it, but I couldn’t make my legs move. I leaned against the door and wished I could throw myself back into his arms. However, at the moment, there seemed to be no good excuse to do so.
“Well, with a performance like that, I think it’s an absolute necessity. Love should hardly be that... um... vocal or scary, I think.”
I saw the flash of Darius’s teeth. “Well, hopefully not frightening at any rate. It is a good thing we are more... civilized... than cats.”
“Yes, well...” Feeling a flush of warmth from my head to my toes, I thought it best to make a run for it—albeit slowly. I moved away from the door, and Darius stepped back to let me pass.
“I think he probably ran into your room, smart fellow that he is,” Darius teased. “I am not sure that he might not sit in the window and serenade you in the moonlight.”
Almost to the foot of the stairs, I turned with a laugh.
“Oh, please, no. I couldn’t take the caterwauling again. He’s being evicted from the bedroom.”
“Poor fellow,” Darius murmured with a throaty chuckle. “Never mind. There is plenty of room on the couch.”
“Good night, Darius. I’m sorry I wakened you.”
“Call me anytime, dear. I am here.”
I resisted the urge to call him then and there, and I felt my way back up the stairs. Darius had predicted the situation correctly, and Marmaduke sat in the window seat meowing.
“Out, Marmaduke. Next week can’t come soon enough for you.” I picked him up and carried him to the door, closing it behind him.
I crawled back in bed, turned on my side to face the window and imagined Darius sitting there...humming to me. His velvety voice certainly sounded like it might hum a lovely tune.
It seemed only moments later that I awakened to the sound of tapping on my door.
“Molly. It is 9:30 a.m. Did you say my nieces were coming at ten to pick you up?”
I jerked my eyes open and tried to focus on my watch. Sunlight streamed into the bedroom. What happened to the night?
“Thank you, Darius,” I called out. So, my ghost was still here! My heart swelled with joy as I hurriedly jumped into a pair of jeans and threw on a T-shirt. I stuck my feet into some sneakers and skipped into the bathroom to brush my hair and teeth and rinse my face.
I dashed downstairs and rounded the corner of the living room only to run into Darius, who st
eadied me by my shoulders.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured. “I have prepared some of that instant hot chocolate you seem to favor. Come into the kitchen.” He pulled a pocket watch from his vest and consulted it. “You have a few minutes yet.” He looked relaxed without the formality of his jacket.
I caught a whiff of my shampoo as he set me from him and went into the kitchen. I followed him, wondering how my rose-scented body soap could somehow smell so utterly masculine on him.
“How did you make the hot chocolate? Did you use the microwave? I warn you...I don’t know if the wiring is up to it.”
“Microwave? You mean that white oven? No, no. I do not think I know how to operate that device yet. I used some of that very hot water you already have.” He guided me to the small glass dining table where two mugs of chocolate awaited us.
I sat down, and he took the seat opposite me. I peered into the cup and took a test sip.
“Well, it’s still pretty hot, that’s for sure,” I said with a smile. “I guess the water heater is working fine.”
“It would seem to be,” he murmured, “although I am not quite sure what that is. Another electrical device, I assume, which does exactly what it says? Heats water?”
I grinned and nodded. “I promise to get some things at the store today. Milk and what? What kind of chocolate do you want?”
Darius seemed gratified. The brightness of his smile reminded me of our close proximity the night before, and I struggled to subdue a blush—as if that were possible.
“Baker’s chocolate and some sugar will be sufficient,” he said.
“What else do you like to eat?” I aimed to please, certain I had much to make up for in having abandoned him.
“Well, let me think,” he said as he placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on one fist. His eyes sparkled playfully. “Ice cream and pumpkin pie and roasted corn and apples.”
“Oh, sure.” I rolled my eyes. “What else?”
“Truly?” Darius widened his eyes. “Will you be making the pie? Because I warn you, I am very handy with a cup of hot chocolate, but I do not bake.” He put out his hands as if to ward off evil.
