She turned toward the shelves under the window and bumped into someone.
"Oh, I'm sorry!” she said quickly as she clutched the whisky to her chest. Tips were great on Friday night, but that didn't mean she could afford to lose any of hers.
"Don't worry ‘bout it, luv,” the man said.
And that's when she really looked at him. He was about six foot three inches tall, with curly black hair that skimmed his collar. He was pale, and his eyes were bright blue. Black leather covered every inch of his body.
"Who are you? Customers aren't allowed down here.” He was very good-looking, and he didn't seem to be doing anything wrong, but she had no intention of getting in trouble for him.
"Name's Michael. Sorry to startle you. Happens all the time,” he said.
But, as far as Caroline was concerned, he hadn't really answered her question. She looked away for a moment because she wasn't sure what else to say. She looked back up and started to say they should go back upstairs, but she never got the chance.
Michael had vanished into thin air, quite literally. It would be impossible to miss a guy his size trying to maneuver through all the bottles and kegs.
"Michael?” she said, not too loudly. In a whisper, she added, “Where did you go?"
No one answered and nothing stirred.
Caroline grabbed the first bottle of tequila she saw, not bothering to check if it was in fact Jose Cuervo or not, and dashed up the stairs as quickly as her need for tips would let her.
* * * *
"Are ye okay, Caroline?” Betsy asked.
Caroline looked up and saw the older woman eyeing her and waiting for an answer. “I'm fine,” she finally said. “Really."
"I don't believe that for a minute, but ye'll tell me when ye want to."
"Well,” Caroline said, taking a quick peek around to make sure everyone else had cleared out. “I think I saw something odd down in the basement."
"Somethin’ odd? Doesn't tell me much.” Betsy put down the glass she was washing and sat down next to Caroline. “I think I know what ye mean, but I'd surely like ye to tell me instead."
"Wait. What do you mean you think you know?"
"Luv, ye aren't the first one to see somethin’ in this old place, and ye won't be the last by far. So why don't ye tell me, then I'll tell ye what I know."
That sounded fair enough. “I think I saw a ghost. It was a man, a biker, but I'd never seen him on a Friday before, and I kept looking for him all night and never saw him up here. I bumped into him down there, and he said he was sorry for startling me, and then vanished."
"Is that all?"
"No. He said his name was Michael. And he said it happens all the time.” She looked at Betsy pleadingly. “Do you really know what I'm talking about?"
"I've never heard the name Michael before, but I saw a man dressed in leather one night. Night before Samhain, it was."
Caroline tried to think. “That's Halloween, right?"
"All Hallow's Eve,” she said with a nod. “Yes and no. It's not quite the same here as it is in America. Here people still pay attention to such things, take them seriously."
"Like believing in ghosts?"
Betsy nodded. “We know the veil still parts at certain times, and we take heed."
"But it's September. And he said it happens all the time. Do you think it was the same guy?"
"Might have been. What did he look like?"
"Very good looking. Dressed all in leather, tall, curly black hair that touched his collar. Pale with blue eyes."
"Hmmm. That might have been the same one.” She looked at Caroline. “You have blue eyes too. Those with blue eyes, especially women, are supposed to be able to see things the rest of us can't."
"So you think I really saw something? It wasn't just my imagination?"
"Yes, I think ye really saw something. And if ye plan on making your home in Ireland, ye'd best get used to it."
Caroline smiled faintly. “I came here for a change. That's certainly what I'm getting. But what should I do?"
Betsy shrugged and got off the stool to go back to her work. “Nothing really, luv. Just don't be surprised when you see things like that."
Caroline nodded and took the dried plates back to the cabinet. “Easier said than done,” she murmured.
* * * *
Nick sat down across from Caroline as she polished the flatware. “So,” he began, “I hear ye had an encounter with our biker boy?"
Caroline looked up at the stupid grin on his barely twenty-one-year-old face. “Yeah, I made out with him. Hell of a kisser.” She returned to her polishing.
"Oh, come on. I'm just funnin’ ye. Did ye really see him?"
"You know I did, so why bother asking?” She had a good go at a spot on the knife she held so she didn't have to look up.
"Because I've never seen him. It's not fair. He only appears to girls, especially pretty girls."
She set down her knife and grabbed him by the chin, carefully considering his profile. “Put on a wig. You might fool him."
Nick pulled away and laughed. “Ye gonna go down there again?"
"The next time I have to. I'm not afraid."
"Ye seemed spooked last night when you dashed back up here with those two heavy bottles."
"Well, I've had time to think about it, and I'm fine now.” Truth be told, she'd had time to remember how gorgeous the man had been. She felt her whole body grow hot and tried to think of something else. The last thing she needed was Nick seeing her looking flushed or embarrassed.
"I'll leave ye to it then. And I'll encourage my customers to drink their fill so ye can go see yer new boyfriend as often as ye like.” He smiled and hopped up, then bounded over to the bar to get his apron before they opened.
Caroline gathered up all the utensils and headed for the kitchen. She needed some air or a glass of water or something. She'd actually managed to stop thinking about Michael for two seconds, and Nick had ruined it all. She didn't really blame him, as it could get pretty boring around The Drum when customers weren't there. But now she was stuck with images of herself in the arms of a leather-clad biker. She shook her head, wondering if the cook would need any help. She doubted she'd be that lucky.
* * * *
Colin tapped Caroline on the shoulder. “Did ye hear me, Caroline?"
"What?” She really hadn't heard him over all the noise. They were only a few feet away from each other, but the place was packed like it hadn't been for weeks. “I'm sorry. What do you need?"
"Bottle of gin. The stuff on the middle shelf."
"Okay.” Caroline felt so bad about not hearing Colin that she dashed down to the basement without even thinking about Michael. She was just reaching for the bottle when she felt a warm body behind her and a hand grabbed hers. The man slipped his hands around her waist.
"I think if we'd made out, luv, I'd sure as hell remember,” he whispered in his ear.
She pulled away and turned to face him, trying to ignore both how good his body had felt and the wave of arousal his husky voice had caused. “I'm sorry. I was only angry about being teased. I'm just not used to people talking about ghosts,” she said. She looked down at the floor, both embarrassed and a little scared.
"What are ye gettin’ so scared fer? I meant it as a compliment.” He stepped closer to her. “Maybe an invitation."
She finally looked up at him. “Are you really a ghost? You feel solid enough to me.” She blushed even brighter and cursed herself for being so sensitive.
"I'm really a ghost, luv, but I'm very solid indeed, when I want to be."
His eyes ran the length of her body, and she thought he would move closer. But he frowned and stepped away. “I don't mean to scare ye."
"I don't mean to be scared,” she said.
He smiled a little. “Maybe that's a beginnin'.” He pulled the bottle of gin from its shelf and handed it to her. “Go on back to work. I'll see ye again."
And then he disappeared.
Caroline stared at the place he'd been just a moment before. Then she took a deep breath and walked to the stairs as steadily as she could. There was no way she wanted anybody seeing her all hot and bothered.
* * * *
But she sure as hell couldn't help feeling hot and bothered. Seeing Michael once could have been dismissed. Seeing him, and touching him, twice was a different matter. As she lay in bed, she listened to the wind blowing around the roof and through the eaves. She knew it would be hours before she'd be able to sleep.
She got up and opened the window so she could feel the breeze from outside. When she looked at the trees, she did a double take. There was something large and dark next to her car. But it wasn't an animal or a person. It was much too big. As she squinted, the moon came out from behind a cloud and shone on the metal.
It was a wrecked bike. That didn't make any sense. Caroline rubbed her eyes and then leaned out the window. But there was nothing under the tree. All she saw was her car, a wide space, a tree, then Colin's and Betsy's cars. There was no bike, wrecked or not, in sight.
Caroline groaned and threw herself down on the bed. She was seeing things or suffering from sleep deprivation or just plain sexual repression. Anyway she thought about it, she didn't like it. She clutched her pillows and thought about kittens and puppies and all kinds of innocent things, trying to get her mind off ghosts.
But that didn't work at all. Especially not when she felt hot breath on her neck.
She didn't jump or scream. She calmly opened her eyes and asked, “What do you want?"
Michael ran his hand down her arm. “I wanted to see ye again, almost as much as ye didn't want to see me."
"I never said I didn't want to see you."
"But I don't think ye're that fond of seein’ me."
She rolled over and looked up at him. He'd taken his jacket off, and he wore just a black t-shirt and his leather pants. “I told you. I'm not used to ghosts."
"Ye're also not used to men payin’ ye any attention."
She narrowed her eyes. “How would you know that?"
He continued to stroke her arm, and she made no move to stop him. “I can feel yer need."
She suddenly remembered she was wearing nothing but an old tank top and panties. “You said you didn't want to scare me. Do you think showing up in my bed proves that?"
He moved his hand and put it around her waist. “I felt ye callin’ to me."
"Yeah, well, I saw your bike. I couldn't help thinking about you."
"Ye were thinking about me before that.” He pulled her closer. “One kiss and I'll go."
She shook her head, hoping he wouldn't feel her trembling. “Doesn't sound wise to me. I doubt I should be trusting ghosts, especially ones that try to seduce me."
He pulled away. “I haven't even really started yet. But ye're probably right. A great many deceitful ghoulies roam this isle, especially as the season draws near."
"Samhain, yes, I know. Now get out of here. I'm tired of all this talk of ghosts."
He looked at her for a long time, and she felt her skin growing hot. He finally said, “Aren't ye just as tired of being alone?"
That made her angry because she didn't want him to know how his words had pierced her heart. “You're dead. I saw the crashed bike outside. I don't want this."
He looked hurt for a moment, but then he smiled. “Ye wouldn't get in such a passion if ye didn't."
He kissed her, but he was gentle, though she'd expected him to be rough. He brought his lips to hers and barely touched them, waiting for her. She shivered at the contact and opened up to him. He let his tongue explore her mouth slowly, and then he pulled away. There was no mistaking the desire in his eyes.
"Ye're worth waitin’ for and ye'll be sweet as salvation when we're finally one."
He disappeared. One moment she was in his arms, and the next she was alone in her bed. His kiss had actually calmed her. Instead of lying awake wracked by longing, she drifted off into a sweet, deep slumber.
* * * *
Despite her good night's sleep, Caroline knew her worries weren't over. She didn't feel quite right considering Michael a “worry,” but what else was she supposed to think? I couldn't just hop into bed with a ghost, no matter how much I wanted to ... could I?
She steadied her tray and knocked on Betsy's door.
"Come in, Caroline,” she said.
Caroline opened the door, set her tray down, and closed the door behind her. “Can I ask how you knew it was me?"
Betsy smiled and pulled up a chair for Caroline while she poured coffee for both of them. “Ye tried yer best not to look troubled last night, but I saw right through that. Plus, I heard ye get up and go downstairs. There's no way in hell Nick would be gettin’ up this early."
"So I guess I don't have to tell you that I saw him again last night?"
Betsy shook her head. “'Twas obvious. To me, at least. It must have been a pretty nice encounter, judgin’ by the flush on yer cheeks."
Caroline sipped her coffee. “It wasn't really an encounter. Or maybe it was. That's what I want to talk to you about.” She set her cup down. “Everyone around here just takes ghosts for granted, and no one seems that afraid of them. But surely he's just toying with me. Can a ghost really seduce me?"
Betsy raised her eyebrows, then put another lump of sugar in her cup before pouring more coffee. “Is that what he's tryin’ to do? Can he actually touch you?"
Caroline blushed. “Well, yes. The first night, I bumped into him. Then last night he put his arms around my waist.” She lowered her voice. “And then he showed up in my bedroom last night."
"Really?” Betsy leaned forward. “And what happened?"
"Nothing, technically. I told him to leave, but he did kiss me."
"How was it?” Betsy asked anxiously.
Caroline hesitated, but Betsy had been the closest thing she'd ever had to a mother since hers had died years ago. “It was wonderful. Better than any other I've ever had."
"Well then, what's stoppin’ ye?"
Caroline had to admit she'd asked herself the same question. “How can I trust him? It's insane to think of having a fling, or whatever you want to call it, with a ghost. Isn't it?"
"Ye have a point, dear, but I don't think that's yer primary concern. I think ye can trust him. I've seen him before, that we have established, and it seems he's been around for years. Lots of girls have seen him.” She pointed her finger at Caroline for emphasis. “But he's never touched a one of ‘em. I think he's lookin’ for somethin', for someone."
"How could he be looking for me? I'm American, and I've only lived here six months."
"But ye're mother was Irish, so the blood of the land is in ye. And it's not that he's lookin’ for ye so much as he's lookin’ for someone special. To ease his pain perhaps."
Caroline suddenly remembered what she'd seen the night before. “He died on his bike. I saw it last night."
"Ye had a dream? Ye saw him die?"
Caroline shook her head. “No. I saw his bike. It was outside under the big tree. He must have died here."
Betsy thought for a long moment. “I can't say that I remember anything like that, but Colin might. Has he told you anythin’ that might be a clue?"
"He was vague. He said he felt that I needed him, and he asked me if I was tired of being alone.” She shook her head. “Something like that. But that's doesn't really tell us how he died or what he might want. It can't just be that he's lonely."
"Ye never know. He doesn't seem to want to cross over, as he doesn't really seem restless."
Caroline sat back, but then decided to refresh her coffee. “What do you mean?"
"Well, a resident ghost either causes a stir or it doesn't. If he was angry or unhappy, he'd make more of a fuss. But instead he just pops in from time to time. He wants to be here, for his own reasons."
"He said it was wise of me not to trust him because of the season."
Betsy nodded. “Th
e veil is thinner, and gettin’ thinner every day. This might be leadin’ up to somethin'."
"What do you mean?"
"He might need ye as Samhain draws near."
Caroline sighed. “That's what I'm afraid of. I wouldn't mind helping him, but I want to be asked. I want to be told what he needs."
"It seems he needs ye, deary."
"So you don't think it would be a mistake?” She wasn't sure what she wanted Betsy to say, but deep down she wanted Betsy to say yes. It still left Caroline with a decision to make, but she also knew deep down what it would be.
"If ye want him, I don't see any harm in it. I know it seems risky to ye, for yer own safety as well as yer heart's, but I think ye should listen to yer heart a little more. It will tell ye what to do.” She got up and went over to her chest of drawers and began rummaging around in the top drawer. “I have somethin’ that will help."
Caroline didn't know what to expect. An old rock, a medallion of some kind? “What is it?"
"It's a candle. I used to use it when I first moved in here, before I knew if the spirits roaming around were good or bad."
Caroline wasn't sure she really wanted to know, but she had to ask, “There are others?"
Betsy nodded, not looking up. “Just a few. They don't bother people most of the time. They get a bit cranky in the spring when we open up to guests though."
Caroline could vaguely remember a very rude tourist who left suddenly because she said a man kept waking her up in the night by pulling her pillow from under her head. She smiled, glad to know the horrid woman hadn't just been making an excuse for canceling the rest of her stay.
Betsy finally pulled a dark blue candle from a small box. “Here. Take this and light it in yer room tonight. If he means ye any harm, he won't be able to come into yer room."
"That does make me feel better. Thank you."
"It's more to reassure ye. I think ye already know him better than ye think."
Caroline nodded, even though she wasn't sure exactly what Betsy meant. She wondered when she'd see Michael again. Remembering the warmth and tenderness of his kiss, she didn't think he'd stay away for long.
Celtic Love Knots Volume 3 Page 3
