by Holley Trent
“Okay, then. We’re good.” Holy moley, this is really happening.
Entering the room Malcolm indicated, her eyes scanned the antique furnishings. She set the candlestick on the dresser. A four-poster bed with an heirloom quilt anchored the room. Next to it stood a washstand with a bowl and pitcher. Under the lace-curtained window, a little vanity languished. A length of fabric lay folded on the vanity stool. Abby felt drawn to pick up the fabric, and it unfurled to reveal a lovely nightgown. It was a sheer shift, floor length with its only adornment a row of crocheted flowers at the deeply scooped neckline. Shaking it gently to dispel wrinkles, the gown released the heavenly scent of lavender, and the fabric swirled like it had been set free. Something compelled her to put it on. Laying it on the bed, she peeled off her clothes, and then slipped on the cream-colored gown.
Her whole body tingled. She stood barefoot, gazing in the vanity mirror, when hands caressed her shoulders. She hadn’t heard Malcolm enter the room, and hers was the only reflection in the mirror. Her heart raced as she verified two more vampire characteristics; a soundless approach and no reflection. A tug loosened her ponytail from the barrette, and strong fingers massaged her temples and then snaked their way through her hair, cascading it around her shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. “Seeing you in that gown — you can’t know what that does to me.”
She turned and looked up at him, inhaling his heady scent of spice and cloves. She ran her hands down his powerful chest. When his muscles tensed, the shock waves rippled through her body. She opened her lips to welcome his velvet tongue, and the world stopped spinning on its axis.
• • •
Malcolm wrenched his lips from Abby’s. With lightning speed and pent-up desire, he threw off his sweater, and then he remembered his promise to start slow. He ached to ravish her, but more than that, he needed to savor what they’d both longed for. He touched her mouth, her face, her hair, gently caressing and exploring. He pressed his forehead to hers and took a deep breath. Then he slowly unzipped his pants and let them drop. No boxers or briefs to remove.
He’d become accustomed to a constant erection in Abby’s presence, and now standing naked, knowing she would finally be his, an explosion of suppressed lust made his fangs extend. Retracting them took every ounce of his willpower.
He eased the gown over her head, and then swept the quilt off the bed. He picked her up and placed her on the antique bed. His cock brushed her naked hip as he stood next to her, and he closed his eyes as her hand caressed him. He reclined next to her on the cool bed linens, tracing the outline of her jaw with his fingers and continuing down her arm and hip, committing her body to memory. She was so beautiful. He brushed his fingers across her nipples, which immediately hardened at his touch.
He pulled her on top of him and stroked her back, pressing her breasts into his chest, heart-to-heart. He moved his hands down to her buttocks, spreading his fingers wide and cupping her there. Moving her hips in sensuous circles against his cock, he nibbled on her bottom lip.
She moaned, and then she reached down and embraced his shaft. He caught her wrists, trying to hold back, but her grip was firm and insistent. Her words came in a breathless rasp. “I need you inside me now.”
He slid full into her and lay motionless for a moment, letting her adapt to the length and breadth of him. He tilted her hips, encouraging her to sit up. Bending her knees tight against his hips, she straddled him, arching her back so that her nipples, flushed dark, jutted toward him as she thrust her head back. The light from the full moon outside his bedroom window cast a shadow of their entwined forms on the wall, and an owl signaled their coupling with a triumphant hoot.
Malcolm moved his hands to Abby’s thighs and opened her folds like a flower, circling her sensitive bud and capturing it between his thumbs.
She ran her hands up and down his body. Her eyes rolled back, and Malcolm knew she was close to the throes of her release. He could bite her now. Oh, God, he wanted to bite her. He could almost taste her sweet blood, and if he punctured her artery as she climaxed, she’d allow him to drink from her. He could feel that she would. But no, stop this madness, Malcolm. She trusts you. She honors you. He had to maintain control.
Shaking off his dark thoughts, he lifted her off his cock and moved her alongside him on the bed, her back to his chest. He ran his hand down the smooth porcelain of her back, and then lifted her leg high in the air. He positioned himself slowly, and then penetrated her sheath from behind. She took his cue and grasped her knee so that she was splayed wide, and he cupped her mound, his fingers dancing across her wet bud, which he pleasured to the point of no return. He felt her climax begin to pulse before she gave into it, and when she did, her entire body jerked with the spasms of her delight, which sent him over the edge. He exploded into her, riding the wave of his release until it finally subsided, and they collapsed together. Malcolm wrapped his arms tightly around her and breathed into her hair. “Abby.”
He’d never thought he could care so deeply for another woman.
Had he truly turned a corner by bringing Abby into his life?
What would Sarah think?
Chapter Fourteen
Inadequate. Frivolous. Abby couldn’t shake the self-doubt. She’d asked Malcolm to tell her about Sarah, and she knew it was good for him to be able to talk about the woman he’d loved and lost, but she hadn’t considered the fallout effect it would have on her own self-image.
She had never been the kind of woman to compare herself to others, but next to Sarah, trait-for-trait, she felt woefully lacking. Her life had been a cakewalk; Sarah’s had been a marathon of hardship. While Malcolm was at war, Sarah had waged her own battles on the farm, maintaining crops and livestock with only two farmhands. In the aftermath of the Battle of Gettysburg, Sarah had tirelessly nursed wounded soldiers in a makeshift hospital.
Abby ticked off the times she’d met with true adversity. There was the summer of 2000, when she and three other Girl Scouts had gotten lost in the Blue Ridge Mountains. She’d kept the group’s spirits up with songs and games. True, she didn’t succumb to the hysterics of the other girls, but that was just her practical nature. Then in college, she’d blown the whistle on a farm in rural Pennsylvania where horses were dying from neglect. The Gettysburg Times had written a story about her. So, she’d done things to earn merit badges and accolades, but had she ever put herself in harm’s way for someone else?
Malcolm deserved someone with true courage.
• • •
“Drink your orange juice, Abby. Mortals need vitamin C to ward off colds, and there’s a definite chill in the air today.” Malcolm pushed the glass of juice across the kitchen table to Abby. He could tell she was brooding by the way her eyebrows knit together. And she looked so vulnerable … and adorable. How had he resisted her for so long? “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Sarah was resilient. I’ve never faced real adversity. It makes me feel … unsuitable for you.” She shifted in her chair.
“You are far from unsuitable.” He wished he could convince her. God, she had no reason to feel insecure.
“But you and Sarah had so much in common.” She frowned.
“Because we were farmers?”
“No. I’m serious. You were in sync.”
“Not entirely. We had our quarrels, but it was a different time, Abby. Women were dependent on men. They rarely bucked the system. Like most of the women during the Civil War, Sarah did what she had to do in the face of adversity. I’m not saying that to diminish her bravery, because she was courageous, but you’ve never met with that kind of conflict. I have no doubt you’d rise to the occasion.”
“You’re giving me too much credit.”
He wished she could believe him. If only there was a way to convince her.
• • •
The following afternoon, Abby sat at her office desk, gnawing on the gooey center of her fourth candy sucker of the day. She typically allowed herself three, but today her musings about Sarah had required additional thought, aided by chewing.
She’d long suspected that the ten ghost tours in Gettysburg had a kernel of truth in their tales, but she only half believed. Now that Malcolm was in her life, she knew there was a paranormal world out there that really existed. And then there was Pat, who had her own supernatural thing going. With Pat’s guidance, Abby had done some research on conjuring ghosts. She learned that spirits could be summoned by holding an object that had belonged to the deceased.
When she’d worn Sarah’s gown, her whole body tingled when the fabric touched her skin. Today, she brought the gown to her office, carefully wrapped in tissue and transported in a box that now sat on her desk.
As she chewed on her candy stick, she stared at the box. She’d planned to take the gown home and attempt her summoning there, but curiosity and impatience got the best of her. She had no appointments, twenty minutes before her next class, and with her office tucked away at the end of the hall, complete privacy. Inhaling and then exhaling to the count of four, she chucked the stick in her wastebasket. She took hand sanitizer from her purse, squirted it into her palm and rubbed vigorously. Wiping her hands on a paper towel, she removed the gown from its box and placed it on her legs. As she fingered the fabric, the sweet scent of lavender danced around her head. Her pulse quickened.
She pushed away from her desk, got up from her chair and held the gown at arm’s length. Malcolm had told her that she resembled Sarah, though Abby was a bit taller and her hair was a shade lighter. Abby adjusted the gown in front of her to where she thought it would have rested on Sarah’s shoulders. She imagined Sarah’s light brown hair grazing the embroidered flowers on the scooped collar, and she could almost see Sarah’s fingers touching the silky leaves so lovingly crafted by her sister, Caroline.
“I fear I can’t measure up to you, Sarah.” Abby said to the gown, and then closed her eyes. A cool breeze drifted across her eyelids. She steeled herself.
“I wasn’t special, Abby.” The words echoed softly against the walls of Abby’s small office.
Abby almost fainted. She thought the gown had power, but she hadn’t considered how she’d react if her suspicion proved true. She gulped. “Tell me what to do.” Abby let go of the gown as she sensed a presence suspending it. She opened her eyes. There before her stood Sarah, translucent like an angel and surrounded by an aura of yellow-white light. Her presence was dynamic. Waves of energy spun wisps of hair around her face and billowed the gown around her small frame.
“You can make him whole again.” Sarah raised a hand. Her cool fingers brushed across Abby’s cheek like butterfly kisses. “There are many times I could have appeared to Malcolm over the years, and I chose not to. I knew that if I interfered in his life, he would never move on.”
“He loved you so much, Sarah.”
“And I adored him.” Sarah smiled. “But our time is history, and he needs to let go. If not, his guilt will destroy him. You are his future. You must save him from himself.”
“Will I see you again?” Abby wanted to gather Sarah in her arms to thank her.
“No, you have your life. I am content. Do not tell Malcolm we met.” Sarah put a finger to her lips. “Simply love him.” The light that surrounded Sarah became more intense, almost blinding. Abby blinked hard, and then the gown fell to the floor. She reached behind her for the arms of the chair and slumped back into it, pressing a hand to her racing heart.
She didn’t have much time to still her heart or collect her thoughts because the door to her office flew open and there stood Pamela Shields, impatiently tapping a needle-nosed boot in Abby’s direction.
“There you are,” Pamela said. “I’ve been looking all over campus for you.”
“Well, this is my office. You could have started here.” Abby almost rolled her eyes but caught herself just in time. It was too easy to be sarcastic with Pamela. “What can I do you for?”
Pamela ran a finger across the length of Abby’s desk.
Trying it on for size?
“Oh, I just thought we could have a chat. I’ve been curious about a few things.”
Keeping her expression neutral was getting painful. Like she and Pamela could chat. The last time they’d tried to have a civil discussion, it soon escalated to a shouting match, and Pamela’s shrieking could shatter glass. “A chat? Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Pamela checked her finger for dust, blew on it, and then pointed it at Abby. “I was in Philly the other night with some friends, and we thought we’d slum it at a Goth club. Turns out there were a few guys there who said they recognized me from Gettysburg College. They were those weirdos who were sitting in the back of the theater last week. Pretty cute weirdos, actually, except for the wall-eyed one. I thought it was strange they would have recognized me. I was just sitting in the audience, but they must have looked my way when I screamed. Still, it was odd they remembered me.”
Because they’re vampires, you idiot. They see everything. Abby struggled to keep herself in check. “Don’t sell yourself short, Pamela. You’re a beautiful woman. Of course they’d notice you.” Abby almost gagged, but plastered on a smile instead.
Pamela narrowed her eyes. “No, it was more than that. I think they’re on some serious drugs. Their eyes were bloodshot. And get this, they wanted the skinny on Dr. McClellan. The way he’d told them to leave the theater, I knew something was up. These guys asked me a bunch of questions about him, like if he mingled with humans. Yeah, that’s what they said, ‘mingled with humans.’ As opposed to what, zombies?” Pamela harrumphed. “They also wanted to know whether I’d ever seen him do anything out of the ordinary, like roam the campus in the dead of night.”
“I guess they thought you roam the campus at night. They must have taken you for a zombie.” Abby chuckled.
“You think that’s funny?” Pamela raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I think there’s something very strange going on here. Remember that coed who was murdered a few years ago? I’ll bet Dr. McClellan had something to do with it.”
Abby balled her fists under her desk. She wanted to smack Pamela across her Cupid ’s bow lips. “Dr. McClellan is one of the most respected professors at this school. I’d stop spreading unfounded rumors if I were you.”
Pamela sucked in her cheeks and nodded her head. “That’s what I thought you’d say. And you know what, I’m glad you defended him, because that tells me that you two have something going.”
“You mean we planned the girl’s murder together?” Abby threw up her hands. “Pamela, you missed your calling. You really should have been a private investigator. You’ve just taken deductive reasoning to a new low. Let’s call the police.” Abby picked up her desk phone and offered it to Pamela. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your coming here today because I’ve needed to get this off my chest. Confession is good for the soul.”
Pamela waved the phone away. “You always were good at twisting words. I’m not saying you collaborated in a murder, but there is something going on between the two of you. And there’s much more to Dr. McClellan than meets the eye.” She licked her lips. “Although what meets the eye is really hot.”
Abby stood up from her desk and walked to her office door. She leaned against it and crossed her arms. “I’ve heard enough of your nonsense for one day, Miss Shields. It’s a shame that someone with your talent has to stoop so low. If you had any integrity, you could be successful. Instead, you resort to scare tactics and innuendo. Couldn’t hack it in New York, could you? Now you’re back here stirring up trouble. What exactly do you want? My job? Come on — out with it!”
“Oh, I do want your job, and I’ll get it. But I’m also going to get to the bottom of
whatever your vampire hero is up to.”
Abby’s heart stopped, until she remembered that Pamela was referring to Malcolm’s role in the play, not him. She tried to breathe evenly. “Get out.” She opened the door wide to allow Pamela’s passage.
Pamela shrugged, adjusted the designer bag on her shoulder, and took one step toward the door. That’s when she saw Sarah’s gown on the floor. “What’s this?” She bent toward the gown and reached out a hand.
Abby leaped to snatch up the gown, but Pamela was too quick. As soon as Pamela’s hand touched the fabric, she shrieked and jumped back. “That thing shocked me!”
Abby bent to the gown and picked it up gently. “It’s just static.” She folded the gown and carefully placed it back in the box, covering it with tissue. “This is a valuable heirloom. I’m planning to make a replica for the costume department. It’s for the play.” She put it on her desk.
“For the play, eh?” Pamela smirked and wrapped her expensive scarf a bit tighter around her neck. “Interesting that it didn’t shock you.”
Abby wanted to strangle her — death by Hermes.
“All right,” Pamela said with a sigh. “I’ll leave you to your antiquities, but you haven’t heard the last from me.” She clip-clopped out of Abby’s office, not bothering to shut the door.
Staring at the empty doorway for a moment, Abby took a few deep breaths and then checked her watch. Shit! She had five minutes to get across campus to her class, and she was never late. She liked to get there early so that if any of her students had questions, they’d have the opportunity to ask before class began. She grabbed her coat and flew out the door. She didn’t lock it. She never did.
When she returned to her office after class, she immediately knew something was amiss. The box with Sarah’s gown wasn’t on her desk. She frantically searched every corner. The gown was gone. Damn and double damn. It didn’t take long to figure out what had happened. Pamela had come back and taken it.
