Authors: Rose Anderson
A cursory evaluation determined she’d been struck over the head from behind. The wound showed the direction of the blow and the instrument used was the iron fireplace poker. Its pronged end fit the two holes in her skull perfectly and had been discovered along with her body in the shallow grave. Both had been rolled tightly in an Oriental rug. She also held a Civil War revolver clutched tightly in her hand. Lanie knew at a glance that it was the same gun the dream Jason had shown her.
Zipping up the body bag, the coroner told Detective Reynolds, “Well that’s it. We’re done here.”
Lanie signed her official statement while Lexie speculated with Detective Anderson. “We’ve been researching the house and its occupants since Lanie moved in. I don’t know how you’d verify it without dental records, but I recently found a newspaper article from 1886 stating the housekeeper went missing. That might be Addy Fairfax, the Bowen housekeeper.” She tipped her head toward the body in the bag.
Though it didn’t really matter after all this time, but it would be nice to know, the detective said, “Can you fax over what you have?”
Lexie nodded. “Sure. Is tomorrow okay?” This would be the fifth cooperative effort between the police and the historical society. Occasionally a woodchuck digging a burrow would disturb an old grave in a pioneer cemetery, or an Indian burial mound would turn up at the site of a new shopping mall. Lexie loved CSI.
“Yeah, she’s not going anywhere.” He handed Lexie a small Ziploc bag. “Here, maybe you can find out about this. Technically it belongs to Doctor O’Keefe now, but maybe you’ll find it useful.”
Lexie looked at the tarnished silver broach through the clear plastic. There appeared to be an inscription on the back.
* * * *
Lanie eased her exhausted muscles into a very hot, lavender-scented bubble bath, once again mentally saluting the inventor of the deep, claw-foot bathtub. What a day. Never in a thousand years would she have suspected a body buried in the cellar. No wonder the house had spooky legends.
Speaking of.
Unaware of his invisible presence on the edge of the tub, she called his name, “Jason?” She hadn’t seen or heard a word out of Jason since they’d shared a kiss two nights before.
She frowned when he didn’t answer, and there was a part of her that worried he was gone for good.
An hour later, the scented heat had worked its magic on her body while a dose of antihistamine quieted her restless mind and itchy, dust-saturated throat and nose. Completely relaxed, she tumbled into bed and within minutes was fast asleep.
Jason sat beside her and brushed the ebony wisps behind her ear. She looked like an angel when she slept.
Angel.
His throat got tight thinking of Addy. If ever an angel walked the earth, it was the woman who’d stayed beside them in the worst of times.
Killed by a blow to the back of the head.
Which monster had done that?
he wondered. For some reason he could easily place the poker in Cathy’s hand. His murdering wife never liked Addy and often hinted at replacing her in the four short months they were married. His stomach clenched. They’d buried his dear Addy alive.
Feeling absolutely wretched, he needed to feel Lanie’s arms around him. Despite his vow to stay clear of her in the waking world, Jason lay down and let her warmth seep into him. He whispered to her subconscious, “Dream of me, sweetheart. I’m free to love you in that world.”
* * * *
“Oh, here’s a good spot!” Bertha ran to spread her blanket on the ground between two very large sycamore trees.
“What do you think, Lanie, will you be able to see the gazebo from here?” Richard asked her.
She wished he’d stop trying to make conversation with her. For one, it clearly irritated his lover. Secondly, it irritated her. Knowing they’d made a cuckold of a wonderful man, she didn’t want to have anything to do with the lot of them. But Jason had asked her to stay and be a buffer to their unfaithfulness, and so she would for now. Putting on a good face she said, “Yes, I can see clearly.”
Lanie’s reply caused Jason to bite the inside of his cheek. He said to himself,
that was a double entendre if I ever heard one.
“Here, Richard, bring the picnic basket to me. I’ll see what cook has packed for us.” Cathy patted the blanket beside her. Predictably Bertha and Richard sat on either side of her. Jason took a seat between Bertha and Lanie. It was the best he could do to stay close to Lanie, yet the constant snorting and braying of the other woman was fastly grating on his nerves.
They ate their cold chicken, their cucumber sandwiches, and their watermelon and waited for the summer concert on the town square to begin.
Pointing across the green, Lanie said, “I see Mrs. Gillette at the ice cart.” She turned to Jason. “She’s the shopkeeper in my employ.” To the group she added, “Please excuse me, I’ll return momentarily.”
Richard rose. “I believe I’ve a taste for a raspberry ice. Hold on, Lanie, I’ll walk you over there.” To his companions he offered, “I’ll bring ices back.”
Lanie hadn’t waited, forcing Richard to jog after her.
“Your brother appears to fancy Lanie,” Jason commented offhandedly to Bertha.
Bertha nudged Cathy, nearly knocking the celery stalk out of her hand. “Oh, I don’t think so, do you, Cathy?”
She stared at him running after Lanie like a dog sniffing heat. “It’s hard to say. You know how particular your brother is.”
Bertha brayed loudly in delight. “Isn’t he though?”
Cathy added for Jason’s benefit, “But then that’s only a guess. I don’t know him as well as you do...”
Bertha watched her brother closely, noting the way he stood next to Lanie, the way he looked at her when she turned away to speak with that woman of her acquaintance. If Richard and Lanie fell in love, he could have Lanie’s money and they could leave Jason alone. Bertha leaned close to the man she desired, and said, “You know, Jason, I think you may be right. Look at him. He is awful attentive don’t you think?”
The celery stick in Cathy’s hand snapped in two. “Of course he’s attentive, Bertha. Your brother is a
Southern
gentleman.”
Bertha extolled her brother’s virtues and laughed her mulish laugh again.
Jason had finally had enough. He informed the two women, “I should meet this Mrs. Gillette and schedule an inventory. If you ladies will excuse me.” With that he rose and went to where Lanie stood deep in conversation. He didn’t miss Richard’s frown as he juggled three cups of raspberry ice.
To Jason’s surprise, Lanie’s dream abruptly ended. Was she waking? Noticing how regular her breathing, he knew her to be still asleep.
Poor sweetheart, this was a day of toil and stress.
It crossed his mind that the pills she’d taken before bed had something to do with how soundly she slept. He lay beside her for a good long while and wondered if she could sense him near. Needing to touch her, he ran his hand over her in a caress from shoulder to hip. His sense of smell had inexplicably sharpened. He could smell the natural warmth of her skin and the scent of lavender that clung to it. Still she didn’t stir. She felt wonderful under his hand, and he gave into his weakness for her. He whispered to her mind,
Lie back, love. Let me touch you in sleep as I dare not when your beautiful eyes are open.
An instant later she moaned softly and rolled on her back. He materialized then. The glow of his ghostly form lit her porcelain skin and highlighted every swell and swale. She was so exquisitely lovely, before he knew what he was doing his hand filled with the roundness of her breast. He moved from one to the other, softly sweeping his thumb over her nipples, and before long those rose-tinted nubs grew hard and inviting. He suckled between the two bathed in sweet lavender. Mostly unresponsive until that point, Lanie whimpered and just as before she opened her thighs and murmured softly, “Jason.” Her sleep-filled invitation was unmistakably clear.
Focusing his thoughts so he could touch her, he kissed a swath down her belly and settled between her silky thighs. Lovingly tracing his tongue over her flesh, he slid his finger inside her incredible silken heat. A thought formed in his mind, and he knew in that instant why he found her so delightfully tight. Lanie had never lain with a man. This beautiful creature was his alone. The echo of that thought kicked him soundly in the stomach. The voice of reason growled in his brain,
Foolish, foolish ass, she can never be yours. Leave her be.
Reluctantly he realized the truth and lay beside her. “Dream, my love. If not in this time, then let me be the first man to love you there.”
* * * *
Closing her last ledger and adding it to the pile from 1884 and 1885, Lanie looked out the window. It had to be at least nine o’clock. She asked him again, “Are you
sure
you wouldn’t rather go to the fireworks?”
Uncomfortably sitting beside her with his hard cock bent in his trousers, Jason shook his head as he mastered himself. After where they’d just been in her waking world, fireworks of
another
sort were weighing on his mind and balls.
The house was empty, and the celebration would last until midnight at the least. The staff was away, enjoying the holiday with family and friends, so they were completely alone. The instant she’d discovered Lanie had more work to do, Cathy informed him happily that she and her cousins were attending Mayor Nash’s midnight barbeque and dance. The last thing Cathy wanted to see was Richard dancing with Jason’s irritating houseguest.
He had an idea. “Would you like to see them?”
A large boom filled the air. Through the open window they heard the horses in the coach house nickering nervously. Lanie said, “I think we’re too late.”
He smiled, the light of the lamp making his eyes dance. Picking it up, he held his other hand to her. “Too late for the park perhaps, but not too late to see them. Come.”
He led her up the narrow stairs off the pantry, past Addy’s room and past the cook’s room. The sound of a bird chirping met them. Jason explained how Mrs. Boatwright kept a parakeet named for her deceased husband and the little bird tended to chirp whenever someone stepped on the squeaky stair. The cook once told him August the parakeet chirped because the sound of the stair usually heralded the coming of tasty crumbs. Lanie laughed.
Jason was right. High in the cupola they had an amazing view of the town square and the fireworks. He opened the windows all the way and the faintest scent of sulfur wafted through.
BOOM!
Another Roman candle exploded into a rain of fiery brilliance.
BOOM!
And another, and another...
“The view is perfect up here!” Lanie exclaimed as the halo of burning paper bits and gunpowder rained from the sky.
He knew it would be. He’d watched from here before.
KABOOM!
The blast shook the house and rattled the windows.
“Oh my lord, look at that one!” That had been the largest yet.
She was so lovely in her excitement. Setting the lamp on the small table, he turned the wick very low until hardly any flame showed. Only the occasional flash of the fireworks illuminated her silhouette now. Her hands were on the window sash, and he covered one with his. She turned to him then. They held each other’s gaze a long while, then, without warning, Jason crushed her to him for a soul-stealing kiss. Fueled by his actions in her waking world, his lips slanted hard over hers. Forcing them to part, his swirling tongue found hers and taught her to give as well as receive.
The hard rough brick of the stairway wall felt rough up against Lanie’s back. Jason’s large warm hands had slipped past buttons and hooks to free her pale breasts that rose and fell with each excited breath. “Jason...” Her words cut off as his lips and teeth and tongue moved over the roundness he held in both hands.
I need more.
She had no idea of what exactly, only that she needed more of it. Her hands tangled in the dark russet silk of his hair to pull him closer.
Grazing his bristled chin over her neck and shoulder, his lips ran back again to her inviting mouth. His cock now sought any touch he could find, his thigh pressed between her legs as he ground himself against her. He knew she’d be his when he felt her ardor rise and she rubbed against him. Only then did he make his fiery descent.
The waistband of her skirt unhooked, the garment fell to the floor. With her corset pulled down, her milky white breasts were exposed to the flashes of fireworks, giving the illusion that she was the ghost, not he. He untied her pantalets with trembling fingers, but the maiden in her was hesitant to let it fall with the rest. She held the garment tight in her hands. His hands covering hers, he knelt before her, his gaze beseeching as it held her eyes. In a husky voice he whispered, “I mean to love you, Lanie, will you allow this?”
“Jason, I’ve never…”
“Please allow me to love you as we both desire. Give us this moment, love, and I vow to treasure you always.”
Lanie’s nod was nearly imperceptible. She bit her lower lip, her body pulsing with anticipation and aching for the unknown. Yes, she wanted him. She wanted whatever he was able to give her.