He rested awhile. Eyes open as he let his mind clear and waiting. Waiting for her.
If I wait long enough, maybe she’ll come. I’ll get to see her again.
Somehow the sight of his wraith was more thrilling then dallying with his mistress.
Finally, he gave in to exhaustion and closed his eyes. The moment he did, he felt the small cold palm cupping his, laying on the pillow so near him. The weight of another body in his bed. Smelling like trees, rain and moss. Wild. Exotic.
And the chilly breath across his cheek was somehow comforting. He lifted his hand and parted his fingers until he felt the cold weight winding between them to know a small hand rested in his.
He sighed. If I open my eyes…
He knew the truth, the truth of ebony curls pouring across the pillows, a sensual soft body he’d never be able to touch. Which would be clothed in a filmy summer gown. Sparking violet eyes watched him intently and should so much as one of his eyelashes flutter, she’d vanish and wouldn’t return tonight. He wondered if even now, a tear to follow the last chased down a porcelain cheek.
Sweetheart.
I wish I knew how to stop your tears.
He dared not open his eyes and chase her off. Just stay. He willed.
Soon, he fell into slumber and this time when a soft palm and small fingertips drew tenderly across his face, he sighed and tilted a cheek into the small, chilled hand...
And when he dreamt it was of making love to a black haired, purple eyed wraith that seemed to haunt every other of his waking moments. Her body glistening in moonlight as she sat astride him. Black curls flowing over her shoulders as she brought him gratification.
Everything about this woman was arousing and screamed familiarity to him.
He shouted in pleasure as he felt her body tightening around his staff. Like a satin fist clutching his body. Drawing him deeper.
And when he was near to attaining a moment that seemed ever-elusive with Leslie his eyes snapped open and he saw the hazy face and purple eyes. Staring at him longingly.
Even as he looked at her she seemed to fade and draw away from him.
"Come back..." He murmured. "Stay with me!"
But she was gone as strangely as she come.
"Who are you?" He whispered into the empty silence. Wanting to know as badly today as he had for the last couple years.
He’d come to dread waking. Whatever bed he woke in was deathly cold. He sat up, teeth clattering. He pulled on his breeches and rubbed his palms over well-muscled biceps to warm himself as he sought his shirt and cravat.
Leslie, Eloise, and Rodger welcomed him to eggs, smoked meats and cheeses. Serving himself, he took a chair near Leslie, despite last night’s decision. A large mirror hung on the wall across from them.
I look more tired than I feel-if possible. He appeared pale and shadowed. Hollow.
Shaking his head at the image, he focused on his bite of smoked pork and speared a hunk of egg.
Straightening he choked. The reflection in the mirror now shattered his composure.
His wraith dominated the glass. Crying out, mouth opened wide, but no sound emerged. Her arms reached out for him. One hand melting through the glass to jut into the room.
Coughing he hammered his chest in an attempt to dislodge breakfast. Glancing to both sides of the table he saw no one witnessing the hand outstretched for his.
What’d happen if I took it?
“Please!” She cried out. Desperation apparent on her face. And this time he heard her. Though it came like an echo over a great distance.
Leslie gave him a hard swat on his back. Sending his chunk of food shooting out to land in an unappealing lump on the marbled floor. A light-colored Great Dane appeared from nowhere to hastily gobble down the slimy treat. Watching the animal devour his pre-tasted meat was hard on his newly fragile stomach. Gagging again he promptly stood to steady himself. His spine stung where his kind mistress had delivered him sound blows.
Was that necessity or punishment for his callousness last night? His doubts were banished when she pierced a piece of greasy bacon dripping in egg yolk and suggested the bite might settle him.
Staring at the morsel a moment...He fled the room.
As of late there was no place safe from his dream weaver. Even as he lay in the chamber, thinking such thoughts, the room wobbled. There was grinding like the stone coming apart.
Sitting up, he looked around the shadowy chamber. In the darkest depths of the far corner, he saw the white glow of her flesh crouched in the corner; head bowed to her drawn knees. The glistening fall of black tresses poured over her legs and shoulders. Her image blurred.
He blinked hard trying to focus.
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