I reached under his shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his back beneath my hand. I knew I was being aggressive, but I didn’t care. I also knew the danger to my heart in taking our relationship further, and yet I kept wondering what would happen if I died tomorrow, which was a very real possibility given Laria’s vendetta against me now that I was helping Ian.
The truth was that I ached to explore his body. I wanted to be with him, Ian, this
ghost
I trusted more than anyone else. I kissed his neck, his ear, his jaw. My hand wandered to his wide chest, and down over the sculpted muscles of his abdomen.
His hand rested on my hip, his long fingers drawing upward along my side. He cupped my breast through the material of my shirt and bra, and my breath caught in my throat.
I felt his hesitation only for an instant, before he rolled and covered my body with his, taking his weight on his elbows as he stared down at me. Every inch of his body was pressed against mine.
His long, silky hair tickled my collar bones. He had never looked so beautiful to me as he did in that moment, his eyes heavy-lidded in a way that had me aching to discover everything that could happen between a man and a woman.
I touched his strong jaw, my thumb brushing along his lower lip. He pressed his face into my hand, placing a kiss against my palm.
“Riley, what are we doing?” he asked, his voice silky soft.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds, took a deep breath and rolled off me, onto his back, resting his hands against his forehead.
“We cannot do this, Riley. It’s dangerous.”
I went up on an elbow. “I don’t care if this is all we have. I’d regret it more if we didn’t do anything.”
He glanced at me, and I could see the desire in his eyes. My pulse skittered with the realization that he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
“I want to be with you, Ian,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
He swallowed hard. “I want you too, Riley.”
His words eased my fears, but I could still see the indecision he was feeling in his expression.
“Then what are you so afraid of?” I asked, terrified of the answer.
He reached up, cupped my face with his large hands and said, “I’m afraid of not being able to leave you when the time comes.”
When I reached the top of the hill, I turned and took in the view. It was even more incredible in person than it had been in the dream; green as far as the eye could see, hills full of heather, and a gently rolling river that cut a path right through the town.
I looked toward the castle with its turrets and spires and tried hard not to remember every detail of Ian’s death. I instead thought about what it must have been like to grow up in such a place. A life without the Internet, cell phones, television, and game systems. A life so different than my own.
I thought again about last night, about the look in Ian’s eyes when we’d kissed, the surprise and the desire I had seen there—the same desire that had rushed through my veins. He had touched me, something I’d never let any other guy do, and it had felt
amazing. Amazing in a way that made me giddy and excited to see him again.
Smiling at the memory, I took off the backpack, and spread out the sweater that I had tied around my hips. I sat down and pulled out the book Miss Akin had left on my dresser while I was taking a shower, and flipped through the pages. My heart leapt when I saw the MacKinnon name. It took me all of ten seconds to find Ian’s family. I touched each name, feeling a kinship with this family I had only met through a vision. I had felt their love for Ian though—as well as their intense sadness and their anger toward the woman who had taken him away.
I skimmed the passages about the family and smiled as I read about Ian’s father and the love affair with his mother.
My pulse skittered when I read: The eldest son, Ian David MacKinnon had many talents—he was an accomplished
marksman, swordsman, and had a great love for art and poetry.
I grinned, remembering him telling me the same thing—well, except for the art.
Little wonder he had noticed my drawing.
Sadly, he was murdered at the age of nineteen. A servant, a jealous lover it is said, had poisoned him. The MacKinnon family never spoke of the servant, saying that one day she left and never returned. Rumor says the family sought their own retribution, and her body was buried just beyond the cemetery, on unholy ground, but to this day those rumors have never been proven.
A shiver rushed through me and I glanced up, looking past the cemetery, wondering exactly where Laria’s body had been buried.
Maggie MacKinnon was so distraught over the loss of her eldest son, that she became reclusive. When she lost her younger
son, it was said she slowly began to lose her mind.
I shut the book, not wanting to read anymore. I remembered the vision Maggie had pushed at me, and despite the fact I wanted to keep Ian with me, I knew I needed to work at ending the curse. I couldn’t keep him here for my own selfish reasons.
I glanced at the castle. Ian could get in anytime, but how did I get in without being noticed? Since the castle sat just off the main highway, it would be tough to get in during the day. I didn’t see any cars there now, and the only person I had noticed coming or going had been the contractor. But that didn’t mean someone wasn’t watching, especially after the last break in.
I needed to set a plan in motion and read everything I could on protecting myself from witches and evil ghosts. The stones hadn’t exactly helped. In fact, it seemed to only make Laria angrier. Maybe I would visit
Anne Marie and see if she had any suggestions.
My gaze shifted back to the village. I had done okay since coming here. I would be okay. I felt it in my bones, even as I ignored the sharp ache in the pit of my stomach knowing soon I would be alone again, and Ian would be where he belonged. It would hurt like hell to let him go though.
He had shown me that maybe, just maybe, I could use my gifts in a way that could help people.
Leaning back on my elbows, I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the sun. The warmth felt wonderful—and I sighed, focusing on Ian. I wanted to connect with him, wanted to spend every second, of every minute, of every day with him until he passed over.
A shadow fell across me and I opened my eyes.
My heart swelled. It was Ian, staring down at me, his arms crossed over his wide chest, his long hair fluttering in the breeze.
“Doing a bit of reading, I see,” he said with a devastating smile that made my insides tighten.
“Yeah, a bit.”
I couldn’t help but remember last night, the kiss we had shared, how hot the moment had been—and how I wanted to do so much more.
He sat down beside me and rested his arms on his knees. “A beautiful view, is it not?”
I nodded. “It’s breathtaking,” I said, remembering I’d said the very same words in my dream.
“I can spend hours up here.”
My pulse skittered. This conversation was all too familiar. I didn’t want a repeat of that dream, of him jumping off the cliff. “Did you come up here a lot?”
“All the time.”
“I can see why.”
I could tell by his expression that he liked my response.
The breeze whipped his hair, and I couldn’t resist—I reached up, touched a strand, and wrapped it around my finger. He turned to me, his eyes searching my face, like he was memorizing my features.
Before I could blink he leaned in and kissed me.
His tongue was like satin against mine, his lips gentle, yet firm. One of my hands rested on his chest, and ever so slowly drifted down, toward his chiseled abdomen. A hot ache grew inside me, more intense by the minute.
I was so confused by the warring emotions running through me. I wanted him with a desperation that frightened me, and yet I wanted to help him, to let him pass on and know peace.
But his peace would require me letting him go, and I didn’t know if I could do that right now. What would it hurt for us to continue as we were now? Sure, we could never be boyfriend and girlfriend in the traditional sense; walking down the school halls hand in hand, or hanging out with friends, but his companionship was as real to me as any relationship I had.
He pulled away abruptly and looked toward the castle, then to the cemetery, and finally to the inn.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I knew Laria had found us.
He put a finger up, listened intently. “Do you hear something?”
I shook my head. “What do you hear?” I whispered.
“Singing.”
“Maybe Miss Akin is outside hanging laundry. She norm––”
“It’s not Miss Akin,” he interjected. “Focus, Riley. Close your eyes and tell me what you hear. Tell me what you feel?”
I did exactly as he asked, closing my eyes and listening. Immediately a heaviness came over me, a cold blast that shot through me.
Then ever so faintly, I heard singing. I opened my eyes and Ian was watching me.
“It’s Laria,” I said and he nodded. I wish she would give me peace, but I knew the closer Ian and I became, the more Laria would fight me.
Ian stood, reached for my hand and helped me up. “It’s not safe to be here now.”
His expression made me nervous, and I didn’t waste any time pulling my things together. I threw the book and my sweatshirt into the backpack, and slung it over my arm.
He took my hand, and I fell into step beside him. I had to speed walk just to keep up with his long strides.
The singing stopped abruptly but Laria’s interference had been felt, and had completely ruined the moment we’d shared on the hill. I wondered what she would do if we ignored her. Would she eventually just go away, much like the old lady ghost had done when I had ignored her?
Someone pushed me from behind, so hard, I would have fallen flat on my face if Ian hadn’t of been holding onto my hand.
Laria’s cruel laughter followed me.
“Leave her alone, Laria,” Ian said, his voice angry, his jaw clenched tight. “She hasn’t done anything to you. Your fight is with me.”
Unfortunately, I had inadvertently joined their eternal fight, and I needed input on how to move forward.
I squeezed his hand. “I have a friend who might be able to help us.”
· · · · ·
Anne Marie lived in a small brick house on acreage just outside of Braemar, with four cats and a wiener dog named Diggs that followed me around and barked at Ian, who stood just outside the front door.
Ian said he didn’t want to come inside because he was afraid of distracting me, and I was glad he didn’t come in…because he
did
distract me. My thoughts were in turmoil where he was concerned, and no matter what I did from this point on, the end result would be the same. He was not my boyfriend, and he never would be.
“I’m so glad you dropped by, my dear. I was most concerned about you.”
“I was concerned about you, too,” I said, closing the front door behind me. “Miss Akin said you weren’t feeling very well after your visit.”
“Ah, she worries too much.”
We entered her small living room that was cluttered with an organ, a well-worn couch, a rocker, and a tall wooden rack with a crazy collection of salt-and-pepper shakers.
“Would you like a cup of tea, my dear?”
“No, that’s okay.” Since the entire country drank tea, I wasn’t about to tell her I didn’t like the taste of it. Maybe in time it would grow on me.
“Have a seat, my dear, and I’ll be right in.
You sure I can’t get you anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks though.”
She disappeared into the kitchen, and I sat down on the couch and Diggs immediately jumped up on my lap. He looked toward the porch, in the direction of Ian, who sat on the porch railing. His arms were braced on either side of him, and his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. He looked like he could be mod-eling for a Ralph Lauren ad. My heart swelled with love and desire for him.
Diggs barked, and Ian looked our way and smiled.
I felt that grin all the way to my toes.
“I have a feeling you have something on your mind,” Anne Marie said, sitting down in the rocking chair. She took a sip of tea and set the cup down with a shaky hand. “Are things getting worse for you?”
I was terrified of telling her too much in fear Miss Akin wouldn’t let me out of the house. On the other hand, she was the only other person I knew that had similar abilities as me, and I desperately needed input. “I suppose you could say things are getting worse.”
She nodded. “Is it Laria?”
My pulse skittered. “Yes.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised, given the fact she’s been visiting me on a regular basis since our séance.”
I didn’t want to hear that. It was bad enough that Laria was making my life
difficult. I hated to think I’d brought this upon someone else who was just trying to help me. “What does she do when she visits?”
“She mostly invades my dreams, and when I wake I feel her presence with me. I have asked if she needs help passing over.”
“And has she ever said anything?”
“No, but I feel her––and Diggs sees her, too. He doesn’t like her and he is an excellent judge of character,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Good dog,” I said, patting his belly, much to Anne Marie’s amusement.
“I’m sorry, Anne Marie. I wish I would have never said anything about Ian or his family to Miss Akin. I should have just kept this to myself.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Nonsense,” she said, shifting in her chair. “You should not have to bear the brunt of this alone when there are those who can assist you. Miss Akin adores
you and she will do everything in her power to help you, just as I will.”
Which reminded me why I came to Anne Marie’s in the first place. “Actually that’s why I’m here. Do you know a way I can protect myself against Laria and other evil spirits?”
“Yes, I have tried several herbs of late, ranging from garlic to willow, but I don’t think herbs alone will be strong enough to deal with this spirit. Do you own a cross necklace?”
“Yes, I have one in my jewelry box.”