Authors: Frances Stockton
“I wasn’t panicked,” she denied.
Remy shook his head, studying her silently for a minute. He
hailed from Lexington, Massachusetts, originally and spent most of his life in
and around New England. His family tree dated back to Colonial times, with part
of his bloodline being Wampanoag.
He was really very fascinating, so why was it so difficult
for Morgan to look forward to an evening that didn’t revolve around Ethan?
Simple, because Remy wasn’t Ethan and no one could replace the detective in her
heart.
“You know, I’m thinking you were talking to the best man,”
Remy said. “Don’t try to tell me that you didn’t disappear with him at the
reception. I saw your mouth when you came inside. It was swollen the way a
woman’s mouth should be when a man kisses her right.”
Flushing more from the memory of the kisses she’d shared
with Ethan, Morgan shook her head. Only Remy could speak his mind and not cause
her to hide behind her hair.
“I told you what happened in the parking lot. I freaked him
out when I saw that girl in the doorway. I told you that too.”
“He may have been a little taken aback by what happened, but
I saw him when he came in looking for you. He was worried about you.”
“So you said, Remy. Why are we talking about this tonight
anyway? This is a business date, after all.”
“Because he’s the man you want. I won’t be offended if you
don’t want to go out. We can talk about the show anytime.”
“I’ll be offended if you back out. Being a consultant for
your team means a lot to me. I want to understand my role better and be a part
of something that could get you and your team national recognition.”
“Let’s go then.” Remy waited for her to get her black pea
coat, purse, cellphone and digital voice recorder, which she placed in the
handbag.
Small though the device was, she used it to capture EVPs, or
electronic voice phenomena, upon Remy’s advice. Most of the ghost hunting
gadgets and supplies sold out of her store came from his supply source.
If there was a chance for her and Remy to go to the
basement, they could do an EVP session and gather some of the evidence of the
activity residing within the walls. She’d have to ask Alexander Grant for
permission, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.
Alex was a good friend and she liked him as much as she
liked Remy. She was so happy Alex married Ryan. She’d never been to a same-sex
marriage ceremony and it’d been one of the happiest occasions she’d ever
witnessed.
True love resided between those two, as it did with Cassie
and Phalen and the friends she’d made in Dallas and Grace McKay and Anna and
Kyran Black. How thrilling it was that she could claim football players in
Virginia as friends.
Perhaps it was time to trust those friendships she’d gained.
So many times she’d taken a chance and friends or boyfriends turned away
because she freaked them out.
Remy took a moment to assist Morgan with her coat, then escorted
her outside and across the small parking lot to a sleek red Corvette. “Wow.
Last weekend you had a Toyota Prius. What happened to it?”
“It was Evelyn’s,” Remy answered casually.
“I should have known,” Morgan said, noticing that he spoke
Evelyn’s name with a quiet intensity that went way deeper than flirtation. He
liked Evelyn. “Her historical research has been a real asset to your team,
hasn’t it?”
“Yes, she’s brilliant.” Remy became more animated as he
opened the passenger side door for Morgan to help her inside. “She’s such a
good, open-minded woman. I wouldn’t have thought a history professor would add
to the team’s investigations. But her research is second to none.”
“She’s great,” Morgan agreed, watching Remy move around the
Corvette to climb into the driver’s seat. “Word of advice, she prefers to be
called Eve. You brought her to the wedding as your date, you should know that.”
“Evelyn’s a friend. Coming to the wedding was rather last
minute and it was nice of Cassie and Phalen to include us. Eve’s nose is always
in those Ransom Hunter books or she’s staring at a computer screen looking up
historical documents to prove to her daddy that she’s for real.”
“Uh, Remy, do you know what the Ransom Hunter books are
about?” Morgan was totally hooked on the vampire-for-hire erotica novels
written by an author known as Ransom Hunter.
“Vampires, sure,” Remy said.
“With a very sexy edge,” Morgan pointed out. “No, that’s too
tame. They’re downright erotic. You have an interest in vampires. Maybe you
should talk to her about them.”
“No way am I going to discuss erotica with my history
consultant,” Remy stated firmly, although something in his response told Morgan
he’d very much like to get Eve Stratham in an erotic position.
“But you like her. I hear it in your voice. Why don’t you
ask her out for real?”
“Her daddy produces the show. I can’t risk losing his
backing, no matter how pretty she is.”
“Bartholomew Stratham’s investment firm owns much of the
commercial real estate in Massachusetts and New England. He obviously supports
her if he adds his funds to your research. What’s your point?”
“Don’t you see? Fidelity isn’t my strong suit. I’ve done
things with men and women that would make Ransom Hunter’s stories look tame. If
I make a move on Eve and then start fantasizing about fucking some guy’s ass,
that’ll crush her.”
“You don’t want to hurt her,” Morgan concluded.
Remy started the Corvette. The engine purred. “It’d kill me
to hurt someone I truly care about. That’s why I don’t like it when you’re
hurting. You’re hurting now and I want to pound my fist into Detective Maddox’s
face.”
“He hasn’t done anything to deserve a pounding. I’m not
hurting.”
“You’re lying. Your boyfriend wanted to tear me limb from
limb when he came looking for you the other night. Do you know that?”
“I was upstairs with the other bridesmaids helping Cassie.”
She hadn’t been able to look at Ethan after she ran away.
“Can we change the subject? Please?” she asked.
“Only if you get off my case about Evelyn.”
She’s too
nice for me. I’ll keep her as my best friend, that’s it. That’s all we’ll ever
be.
Morgan glanced over. Remy didn’t have to speak aloud for her
to read what he was thinking. Why was it she could read Remy Sinclair as easily
as a vampire novel, but she couldn’t do the same with Ethan Maddox?
Grandma claimed that her inability to read a man was how
she’d know her soul mate. Morgan would have to learn to trust that her mate’s
heart was true. Trust wasn’t easy for her to give.
If she gave it to Ethan, what would he do with it? Everything
in her that was female responded to him as a red-blooded male. He got her heart
racing, her skin flushing and her pussy drenching wet.
Not once in her life had she experienced orgasm-inducing
sex. She wasn’t a virgin, that much was true. But the boys she’d been with
crushed her because she’d known every time she gave them her body that all she
was to them was a receptacle for their dicks.
Later, she’d bought sex toys, but trying to get off with a
dildo wasn’t easy when she was trying to compartmentalize the data that came to
her when she touched it. Even new objects had an imprint of someone else’s
memories. They could stem from the person who assembled the toy to the person
who sold it. She’d ended up numb and frustrated and thrown everything away.
Was Ethan the one with whom she’d experience eroticism on a
level she’d only ever read about? Was she even capable of being a Dom’s woman?
She’d never seen herself as a submissive until she met him.
The moment he laid eyes on her, all she could think of were ways he might tie
her up and fuck her until she was hoarse from screaming out her pleasure.
“You sure you don’t want me to take you home, love?” Remy
offered. They’d been driving for a few minutes.
“No. We’ve reservations. It’s an important night for us and
your team.”
Halfway to Danvers, Morgan turned her eyes to the man
driving the car. “Remy? You should try endearments with Eve. I’ve the feeling
she’ll welcome it.”
“Knock it off, woman.” Remy gripped the steering wheel hard.
“Okay, but if you don’t do something about her soon, someone
else could come along. What if her daddy has someone in mind?”
Remy didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The very idea of
Evelyn Stratham going out with anyone else bothered him.
They reached Druid Creek Castle ten minutes later. Traffic
through Salem had been a typical bitch. But the stretch to Danvers had been
easy.
As she and Remy pulled up to the quiet bed and breakfast, it
was hard to believe it’d been transformed for a wedding reception a few nights
ago. Cassie and Phalen had a fairytale wedding.
But then the night turned sour when Morgan saw Jenna’s
apparition. Who was that girl? Why had she latched on to Ethan? Was it because
of his tuxedo, as Morgan had thought, or something far more complicated?
There was only one way to know. Morgan had agreed to spend
the evening here with Remy because she hoped to see Jenna again. She had no way
of knowing if that would happen. Ghosts didn’t act upon command.
As Remy escorted Morgan from the parking lot toward the
entrance of the castle, she kept her eyes on the building. The gray and
moss-coated stones’ ancient past was emblazoned on the front in vivid clarity,
although most would only see the gray and green.
At the front door, she gave in and touched the stonework
aligning the doorway. Morgan felt the violence and the stories of the people
who’d lived here hundreds of years before. Originally, the castle had been made
of wood and stone, but the wooden walls eventually collapsed.
Catherine O’Brien’s great-great-grandfather, a Druid priest,
took residence and rebuilt it with stone. Over time, the need for castles
deteriorated and many were destroyed by the Druids themselves to keep the
English from taking control of it.
What was left had been the stonework, which was later
brought over by Catherine.
It was a terrible shame Catherine had to sell the place
because her husband left and filed for divorce. But Morgan believed Catherine’s
husband had gotten involved in some very dark, disturbing magic that opened
portals to the underworld that were best left closed.
With advice from Morgan, Alex and Ryan hired a Druid
priestess from Danvers to come to Druid Creek Castle and cleanse it of all the
negative energy that had remained after Catherine and her former husband moved
away. Peace had been restored and Morgan hadn’t detected any negative entities
until last Saturday night.
Alex Grant and Ryan Hathaway had transformed Catherine’s
Castle into Druid Creek Castle Bed and Breakfast with a popular restaurant, pub
and basement that could be rented for parties and such.
Morgan was very aware that Catherine O’Brien had booked
events that followed the Modern Druidic Calendar. During certain occasions, the
facility was open to BDSM members-only events.
And oh the tales these walls told! There had been some very
hot, very safe and very erotic encounters inside this castle. Maybe someday,
Morgan would encounter them firsthand instead of having to touch something and
experiencing the memory of someone else’s pleasure.
“Morgan, I’m losing you,” Remy said, touching her elbow as
they entered the foyer.
“I’m here. Just gathering information and
compartmentalizing. Whenever I step foot in here, there’s a wave of things that
come at me. Most of the activity is residual.”
“If it’s too much after the wedding, we can go somewhere
else.”
“No, I want to be here.” For reasons she didn’t quite
understand, she felt compelled to be right here tonight.
Inside the dimly lit foyer, Remy assisted her out of her
coat and hung it, along with his own, on a coatrack in an alcove. When he
returned, Morgan moved in closer while they waited to give their names to the
host.
The host was currently seating a group of four, his back
turned toward them. But Morgan knew exactly who it was. Alexander Grant cut an
impressive figure in his black Italian designer suit.
She shouldn’t have been surprised to see him. After all, he
was part owner of the establishment and he and Ryan lived upstairs in one of
the converted suites that looked as if it belonged to the Laird of the land.
Knowing that still didn’t prepare her for the impact of
Alex’s scowl when he turned, saw her standing beside Remy Sinclair and strode
forward with single-minded purpose.
“Morgan, what’s going on?” he questioned, his eyes darting
between her and Remy.
“Alex, I’d like to introduce you to my friend Remington
Sinclair. We’ve reservations.”
Alex checked the list. “I remember Mr. Sinclair and his
ghost hunting team at the wedding. Ah, there it is, you do have reservations
with someone who’s not Ethan. Are you testing my friend’s mettle, Morgan?”
He stared at Remy as if he was ready to pound him into the
dirt.
“Hold on there,” Remy intervened. “Not that it’s any of your
business, Mr. Grant, but Morgan wears no ring or any other sign of commitment
to a man.”
“Morgan’s boyfriend is my best friend’s brother. That makes
her my business.”
Morgan wanted to deny that Ethan was her boyfriend. He
really wasn’t. She didn’t even know if he would talk to her again.
“For your information, I’ve been asked to be a consultant
for Remy’s television program. We’re here to discuss it. Remy would also like
to talk to you later about doing a documentary on Druid Creek Castle and its
ghostly inhabitants. Think of the publicity you’d gain.”
Alex glared at her. “Is that right?”
“Yes. I thought you and I were friends, Alex. I want this
job and would appreciate it if you gave Remy the benefit of the doubt. Forget
it, Remy, let’s go elsewhere.”