"Now," she said briskly, "let's have some lunch. And then I'll take you out and show you all the sights."
* * *
It was a pleasant day.
Kathryn relinquished the driver's seat of her ancient VW to Jason, who'd forgotten more about shifting gears and using a clutch than she had, so that they both ended up laughing each time the bright yellow Beetle lurched down a road.
They took a leisurely stroll along the narrow streets of Hawkins Bay. Jason bought them matching hats at the straw market and T-shirts that said Cool Caribbean Breezes on the front but "made in Hong Kong" inside the neck.
At sundown, they found a little cafe on the water that served garlic-drenched mussels and deep-fried grouper. They ate until they groaned, washing it all down with a pitcher of English lager. And they danced to old tunes blaring from a Wurlitzer so ancient it would have brought a bundle at any antiques market back in New York.
The moon was riding high in the black velvet sky when they returned to Charon's Crossing. The house was silent and dark, and Kathryn let Jason kiss her as they made their way up the stairs together.
But when they reached the bedroom and his kisses grew more intense, she turned her face away.
"Just relax, darling," he murmured. He took her face between his hands and brought her mouth to his. "It'll be good, I promise."
She wanted to believe him. She let him kiss her some more. She wanted to feel something; she wanted to feel what she'd felt in Matthew's arms. Why didn't she? Maybe Matthew was nearby. Maybe he was watching. Maybe that was why she couldn't react to Jason's increasingly passionate caresses.
But Matthew was nowhere nearby. She knew that she'd have sensed his presence.
Jason kept kissing her. His hand crept towards her breast. The feel of it made her skin crawl.
"Jason, wait."
He silenced her by trying to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth; she felt its warm slickness and almost gagged.
"Stop it," she said sharply, and when he didn't, she slapped his face.
Stunned, they stared at each other in the moonlight, each of them breathing hard but for very different reasons.
"Oh, Jason," Kathryn finally whispered. She reached out towards him but he stepped away and walked to the window.
"Listen," he said, "I think maybe I ought to fly back to New York in the morning."
Kathryn knew he wanted her to tell him not to go. She knew it was what a woman should say to the man she was going to marry.
"I don't think coming down here was such a hot idea, after all."
"Jason. Jason, I'm so sorry..."
"Don't be. You're upset, and I can understand the reason. Here you are, stuck with a house that looks like a strong wind might blow it down. The last thing you need is me, pressuring you."
Kathryn suspected she looked almost as miserable as he did.
"Yeah," she murmured, "I think you're right."
Jason nodded. Her easy acquiescence felt like a blow between the eyes, but what had he expected? That she'd beg him to stay? That the tropical sun would have burned off her inhibitions? Well, it hadn't. If anything, she seemed further away than ever. Each time today he'd tried to get close, she'd backed off.
Maybe it was the atmosphere of decadence and decay in this damned ruin of a mansion, or the miserable isolation of the place. Whatever it was, he was certain that hanging around would only make things worse.
It wasn't easy, but he managed to look at Kathryn and smile.
"How much more time do you figure you'll have to spend here?"
She'd expected the question. What she hadn't expected was her hesitation in answering. A few days ago, the thought of having to put in even an extra hour at Charon's Crossing would have seemed like a penance.
Now, though she didn't want to dwell on the reason, the thought of leaving put a hollow feeling into the pit of her stomach.
"Kathryn? What do you think?"
"Well," she said carefully, "I had thought a week would do it, but now I guess I really can't give you a definite answer. There are so many unknown factors, you know?" Her smile felt artificial. "I think they must have invented manana on this island. I've got to work around the contractor's schedule, my lawyer's not even on the island, and the realtor..."
"How long?"
She shrugged and picked at a bit of nonexistent lint on her skirt.
"A couple of weeks, maybe."
Jason's face fell. "That long?"
"I'm just not sure, Jason. Actually—actually, I was thinking, it might be a good idea if I took some of my vacation time now, don't you think?"
What he thought was that something he couldn't understand was going on here. Kathryn, asking for more time away from the office? It was simpler to imagine the sun asking for a day off.
"Jason? Is that a problem?"
"No," he said quickly, "no problem at all. Maybe that's what you need, you know? Some time off."
She nodded. "You might be right."
"Remember that MicroTech Conference in Miami? The one we were going to pass on? Well, I've been thinking, you can never tell. They're running some seminars that might be interesting."
Kathryn couldn't remember what conference he was talking about. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember the last time she'd thought about business.
"So why don't we do this? You take your time here, get things squared away with this house and all, and then fly to Miami and meet me at the conference. We'll sit in on a couple of seminars, maybe talk a little shop, and then we'll take a long weekend in the sun before you decide if you have to come back here—or if you're ready to fly home with me. How's that sound?"
He hadn't expected her to jump up and down with joy but he hadn't expected her to look blank and then bow her head and stare down at her feet, either. He held his breath and his patience while he waited for her answer. It was a long time in coming but finally, when he'd almost given up hope, she looked up.
"It sounds great," she said.
They smiled at each other politely. Then Jason collected his pajamas and his toothbrush. Kathryn showed him into the room across the hall and they spent the night alone, in separate rooms and separate beds.
Chapter 14
Kathryn awoke early.
She dressed and opened her door quietly, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that Jason's bedroom door was still tightly shut.
Quietly, she made her way down to the kitchen. As she put up the coffee, she thought about what she'd say to him this morning.
Jason was her fiancé. He had flown all the way down to Elizabeth Island for a romantic weekend, and when he got here, she'd treated him as if he carried the plague and she was a certified crazy.
Kathryn blew out a gusty breath as she took a bowl of fruit from the refrigerator.
And it was all Matthew's fault. If he hadn't treated the whole thing like a joke, popping in and out of the woodwork right under Jason's nose, deliberately drawing her into taunting conversation with Jason standing right in the same room, she'd never have gotten so edgy. Things would have gotten off to a better start and they'd have ended better, too, with her in Jason's arms exactly as she was supposed to have been.
As she had wanted to be, and never mind all that silliness last night when Jason's kisses had made her tighten like an overwound spring.
It was nerves, that was all. Between Matthew's performance that morning and the certainty that he'd been about-to pop out of the walls last night, she'd been a wreck.
That he hadn't put in an appearance didn't change a thing. There was nothing like the anticipation of a visit from a ghostly jack-in-the-box for making you antsy.
Right now, for example, she kept expecting him to suddenly materialize in the middle of the room while she sliced oranges, bananas and casaba melon into an old, probably priceless, Waterford bowl.
Anything that would destroy her equilibrium would suit Matthew just fine.
Well, he was in for a surprise. Briskly, she
wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, then set the bowl of fruit in the center of the table. Nothing was going to upset her this morning, she thought as she backhanded a couple of flyaway curls from her forehead, not even Harry Houdini! She was going to be calm and sensible, and when Jason came down the stairs and into the kitchen, she would greet him with a smile, a kiss, and, maybe the suggestion that he forget about cutting short his visit.
"Good morning, Kathryn."
She looked up. Jason was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and maroon tie and she knew at once that she wasn't going to do anything of the sort.
"Good morning," she said.
"I phoned the airport," he said briskly. "There's a mail plane taking off for Grenada in a couple of hours. The pilot said he'd be glad to give me a lift."
Kathryn nodded. "That's good," she said brightly. "That the phone's working, for a change, and that you can get a ride."
He nodded, too. "Yes, it is."
There was a moment's silence and then she cleared her throat. "Well," she said, holding out a cup of coffee, "did you sleep well?"
"Eventually." She could see the conflicting emotions on his face, and then he sighed and accepted the cup as if it were an olive branch. "First I had to adjust to the silence. No police sirens, no fire trucks, no drunks yelling on the street corner... how can you bear it?"
Kathryn laughed and leaned back against the sink. "Awful, isn't it?"
"You've certainly settled into this mausoleum better than I would have."
"Well, it hasn't been that easy." She looked at him. "I suppose that's why my nerves are so on edge."
"I understand."
He didn't, not really, but how could he? She hadn't told him about Matthew.
All at once, she knew that was what she had to do, and never mind Matthew's smug insistence that Jason wouldn't believe her. Of course he would. He loved her. He trusted her. He knew she wasn't some sort of flighty dreamer with an overactive imagination.
Sharing this—this burden with him would be wonderful. He could advise her, help her deal with the insanity of being haunted, and taunted, by a ghost.
"Jason," she said quickly, before she could change her mind, "there's something I need to tell you."
A worried look crept over Jason's face.
"Ah, Kathryn, Kathryn." Matthew's whisper came from out of nowhere. "He thinks you're going to break your betrothal."
Kathryn stiffened. She turned, looked in every direction, but Matthew wasn't visible.
"Your precious Jason is so concerned about his own needs that it hasn't occurred to him that you might be about to seek solace."
"Jason," Kathryn said, "please, sit down."
"Kathryn," Matthew said, "if you tell him about me, he's not going to believe you."
Kathryn stamped her foot. "He will!"
"Will what?" Jason said, the worried look deepening.
"He's either going to think you've lost your senses or that you need reassuring, like a foolish twelve-year-old."
"Dammit," Kathryn said.
"Darling? What is it?"
"Sit down, Jason!" She pointed a trembling finger at the table. Jason sat.
"Isn't that nice?" Matthew drawled. "He's so well trained. I saw a hound like that once. It was truly amazing. The dog would do almost anything you asked of it."
Kathryn shut her eyes, counted to ten, then looked at Jason.
"We need to talk," she said.
"Now, darling, I know you're still upset after last night. I don't think this is the best time to make any quick decisions."
Matthew chuckled softly. "You see? He's afraid you're going to tell him it's all over."
Kathryn sighed and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.
"It isn't a quick decision," she said. "I thought about it yesterday, and then most of last night." Her arms fell to her sides and she fixed Jason with a look. "And I know telling you this is the right thing to do."
"Please, Kathryn, don't say anymore. You aren't yourself, I know that. I understand, and—"
"You don't."
"I do. You think things aren't working between us, but—"
"This has nothing to do with us!"
Jason blinked. "It hasn't?" he said, and gave a long sigh. "Oh, wow. I thought—"
"Jason." Kathryn pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him. She folded her hands on the table. "I've got to tell you something. I know it's going to sound crazy, but... The thing is, Charon's Crossing is—is more than just a ruin."
Jason laughed and shook his head. "You're probably right, but if there's a stronger word to describe it, I can't think of it."
"I don't mean that. I mean, yes, the house is a mess, but... The thing is... the thing is, Jason, Charon's Crossing is haunted."
There. The words were out. Just saying them made her feel better—until Jason laughed.
"Haunted," he said.
Kathryn nodded. "Yes."
"Haunted," he repeated, chuckling. He shoved back his chair, got to his feet, and walked to the stove. "Haunted" he said, and poured himself more coffee.
Kathryn's eyes narrowed as she stood up. "That's what I said."
"Uh huh." He looked at her. "And just when did you find this out?"
"Almost as soon as I got here. It turned out that everybody knew about it. My attorney, the realtor, the guy who's going to fix the house up... Jason, dammit, will you stop laughing? This isn't funny!"
"No," he said, his lips twitching, "I don't suppose it is. It's going to be difficult enough to find a buyer for this wreck but if people think there's a resident spook..."
"Not everyone can see him."
"The spook?"
"The ghost," she said, folding her arms.
"No," Jason said with solemnity, "of course not." He leaned back against the counter and took a sip of his coffee. "What is he, anyway? Wait. Don't tell me. He's a pirate. They were big in these waters, weren't they?"
"He was a privateer."
Jason laughed. "Sorry. Fine distinctions are important in these things, I suppose."
"It isn't a fine distinction," Matthew said in clipped tones.
"It isn't a fine distinction," Kathryn said, and frowned. "I mean, a pirate was a pirate. But a privateer was legitimate."
Matthew chuckled. "Some were. Some were like me, who wouldn't have known their fathers if they'd tripped over them."
"This privateer," Kathryn said, ignoring him, "sailed for the British just before the War of 1812. He captured french merchant ships carrying contraband."
"Yes," Matthew said lazily. "And he was damned good at it, too."
He materialized suddenly, standing on the far side of the room, leaning back against the wall in that nonchalant, arrogant posture that never failed to set Kathryn's teeth on edge, his arms folded, his feet crossed at the ankle. His hair was loose, hanging like thick, shining silk to his shoulders and his shirt was open halfway down his chest.
Had a man ever looked more dangerous, or more sexy?
Kathryn hated herself for the disloyal thought. She moved closer to Jason and deliberately took hold of his hand.
"The thing is, what am I going to do about it?"
Jason smiled and lifted her hand to his lips. "Nothing," he said, kissing her knuckles.
"Nothing? Don't be silly, Jason. I have to do something."
"For instance?"
"Well... well, for instance, how am I going to sell this place? You just said yourself, it was going to be hard enough but now, if people know there's a ghost..."
"Kathryn, darling, just listen to yourself." Jason smiled tenderly and enfolded her hand in both of his. "You almost sound as if you believe in this local nonsense."
Matthew laughed.
"It isn't nonsense," Kathryn said stiffly.
"What should we call it, then? Superstition?"
"It isn't superstition, either. This ghost is—"
"Be careful of what you say, madam. He's not going
to believe you."
"This ghost is real," Kathryn blurted.
"To the locals, yes. But any intelligent person from outside will—"
"He's real, I tell you! I've—"
"Kathryn," Matthew warned, "tread carefully."
"You've what, darling?" Jason asked.
"I've... I've..."
Kathryn hesitated. Jason wasn't laughing anymore, or even smiling. He was looking at her with a cautionary gleam in his eye, and suddenly she thought of every movie she'd ever sat through where the unfortunate heroine tells the hero that she's seen something that clanks or rattles or goes "boo" in the dark.
"I've... I've spoken with several intelligent people about this ghost," she said. "And they believe in him, too."
Matthew gave a long, low whistle. "Good girl."
Jason laughed with relief. "Boy, for a minute there you really had me going. I was afraid you were going to insist you'd seen the spook yourself." He grinned. "I was already planning on the best way to whisk you off to the nearest shrink."
"Shrink?" Matthew said.
"Head doctor," Kathryn snapped. Damn, why did he have to be right?
"Yes," Jason said, patting her hand. "Could you have blamed me?"
"I suppose not," she said, withdrawing her hand from his and tucking it into her pocket.
"Poor darling," Jason said, "no wonder your nerves are shot." He looped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. "What an awful thing to have had to deal with all on your own."
Matthew sighed, lifted his hand and carefully scrutinized his fingernails.
"Here comes the reassurance."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Jason put his knuckle under her chin and lifted her head. "I'd have told you there's not a thing to worry about."
Kathryn disengaged herself from his encircling arm.
"There isn't?" she said stiffly.
"No, of course not. This place may be a wreck—"
"I wish you wouldn't keep saying that, Jason. I know it's a wreck but it's my wreck..." She frowned. "Never mind. What were you going to say?"
"Only that now that I've seen Charon's Crossing, I think you may not have as difficult a time selling it as we'd thought. The house needs work, yes, but it has great appeal. Just look at its location." He walked to the window and gestured out at the endless gardens stretching out behind the terrace. "All that land in the back, the sea practically at the front door... and every room is filled with antiques."
Charon's Crossing (A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel) Page 23
