Across the river, a flash of white shimmered between the trees, catching the moonlight filtering through the canopy of branches. For a moment, he was thrust into the past, to the childhood nights he and his friends would hide in camouflaged forts, hoping for a glimpse of the fabled ghost of Holloway House. His mother claimed to have seen the phantom once, wandering along the edge of their yard. But he never had…up until now, anyway. Could it be?
A figure stumbled through the underbrush, coming into clear view. It was a flesh-and-blood woman, wearing a white shirt, and Jesse released a breath as his ridiculous thoughts of ghosts retreated to the realm of youthful imagination. But the woman had been calling for help, and now she flailed her arms as she staggered toward the river, as if fleeing an unseen attacker. With a guttural sob, she fell to her knees by the shallow bank.
He paused a beat, waiting for her pursuer to appear. But the woman was alone. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight as she struggled against an invisible opponent. Goosebumps lifted the hairs on the back of his neck. What was going on here?
She collapsed, her dark hair falling forward as her chest hit the ground. “No, please,” she moaned.
Sleepwalking? Night terrors? A psychotic break? He snapped into action, running down the path toward the old wooden bridge. His footsteps pounded on the planks, the soft wood bending beneath his weight. The sound was thunderous in his ears, drowning out his heartbeat, but the woman didn’t raise her head.
He reached her before she tumbled into the water, dropping to his knees and hauling her back. Icy air surrounded her, and he wondered if she was somehow suffering from hypothermia despite the warm night. She cried out again as she struggled against him, but as he turned her over, her eyes flew open and she stared up at him, blinking in confusion.
His breath caught. “Lark?”
“I…” Her vacant gaze began to sharpen as she fought to focus. “Dr. Holt? What’s going on?” she asked, her brows pulling together. Leaves rustled beneath her hair as she turned her head to the sides, studying her surroundings. Fear still clouded her features, but distress seemed to be edging out sheer terror.
“I’m not sure,” he answered gently, suddenly aware he was straddling her, his knees brushing against her hips. Probably not the most reassuring position for her to awaken to. And she was wearing very little—just the tiny T-shirt and underwear. But even being barely dressed didn’t account for the chill he’d felt coming off of her. At least some of the color was returning to her face. “I think you were sleepwalking,” he added as he eased off of her. “You were screaming for help.”
“I was? I don’t remember.” She touched her forehead. “But I don’t sleepwalk. Never in my life.” Grimacing, she propped herself up on her elbows. As her gaze drifted down her body, a deeper flush darkened her cheeks. “Oh, God,” she murmured under her breath.
He reached behind his neck and pulled off his own T-shirt. “Here. Put this on.”
She didn’t argue, just mechanically accepted the shirt and stared at it for a long moment as though it might hold the answers to how she came to be sitting in the woods, half-naked and woozy. Finally, she threaded her arms into it and slowly tugged it over her head. “Thank you.”
Nodding, he stood up, offering her a hand. Warmth tingled through his palm as their skin connected, and he was relieved her body temperature was returning to normal. In the back of his mind, he was still debating calling 911, although now for an ambulance. He glanced over at his phone, lying in the dirt, the light still shining from the tiny bulb. “Are you hurt?” he asked, turning away to give her some privacy as she adjusted his shirt until it reached the middle of her thighs.
“No. I mean, I don’t think so,” she added, her voice still heavy with bewilderment.
“Why don’t we go back to my house?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I live right up that hill.”
“You…live there?” She peered past him, searching through the trees, then turned her head in the opposite direction, toward Holloway House.
“Yes. I think we’re neighbors.” He gave her a moment to process this.
“Oh.” She hugged her arms across her chest. “Um, thanks, but I don’t want to impose. Or disturb your family.”
“It’s just me.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Well, me and Bosco and Benny, my dogs.”
Silence spooled out as a range of emotions flickered across her face. A shudder ran through her, and she exhaled audibly, casting a glance behind her. “I think…I think there’s something wrong with that house.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person around here to say that,” he said grimly. He fought the urge to touch her, gesturing with his hand instead. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up. Get you something to drink.”
He wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about her coming home with him, but he did, despite how much he’d been looking forward to getting to sleep less than thirty minutes ago. For some reason, an inexplicable urge to take care of her had taken over. The sudden need to protect her flowed through him, fierce and primal. And while he didn’t really know if there was anything in that house she needed protection from, he wasn’t lying about the rumors—people did say the place was cursed.
She nodded, silently turning toward the little bridge leading to his property.
As they crossed, he lost his internal battle and touched her upper arm. “Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, physically?” He glanced down at her bare feet. “Your feet…”
“I think they’re a little scratched up, but it’s no big deal.” She caught his gaze as he looked back up, a tight smile flickering across her lips. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. I’m…well, I’m mortified, actually. This is not exactly the first impression I wanted to make on my new neighbors.” As she smoothed her hair, she picked out pieces of leaves and clumps of pine needles, dropping them back to the forest floor.
Their combined laughter eased some of the tension, and he was reminded again how she was able to find humor in awkward situations. It was a valuable trait, and one he found immensely appealing. “Well,” he countered, cocking his head to the side. “To be fair, I think sleeping on my waiting room couch was really your first impression. Midnight sleepwalking through the woods just seems like the natural progression.”
Her heavy sigh turned into a giggle she couldn’t suppress. They crested the hill, and he led them toward the side of the house. “How’s Preston doing?” he asked as he clicked his phone flashlight off.
“He’s doing well so far. I set up all his stuff in the upstairs bathroom, and I keep him confined in there at night so he’s right near his water and litter box. He seems content with that, actually. He doesn’t like the house either.” She blew out a breath. “I have to get us out of there.”
“You’re moving out, then?”
“Well, yes, as soon as I can sell the house. I want to get back to the city.”
“Boston?”
“New York. That’s where I’ve lived for the past three years. I grew up nearby, in Connecticut.”
“Oh.” An unexpected pang of disappointment tightened his chest. As they approached the house, Bosco and Benny appeared in the windows, their dual greeting of excited barking and joyful howls cutting off further conversation.
The dogs eagerly vied for Lark’s attention as soon as they got through the door, and Lark laughed, bending down to pet them. “They’re so cute. What are their names again?”
“This one’s Bosco,” he said as he latched on to the dog’s collar, hauling him back before he toppled Lark over. “Sorry, he loves new people. I’ve only had him for about six months. Someone found him on the side of the road and brought him in. He’d been hit by a car and no one ever claimed him.”
“So you brought him home?” she finished, her green eyes shining with emotion. “That was so kind of you.”
He shrugged. “He’s a sweet dog. If a little overly enthusiastic.” He released Bosco as she stood up. “And this is Benny. He’s bee
n our family dog for years.” Scratching Benny behind one floppy brown ear, he added, “He sort of came with the house. When my dad passed away, my mom moved to a retirement community, and I moved back in here.”
Her smile fell away as a cloud passed over her features. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. He was a veterinarian too. He opened the clinic here 34 years ago.”
“You must miss him.”
“Yeah.” Clearing his throat, he motioned for her to follow him into the living room. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get us something hot to drink. I have decaf and some of the tea my mom likes. Or something stronger if you’d like.”
“Maybe just some warm milk, if you have it?” She tugged a hand through her auburn hair, grimacing when her fingers caught in the heavy waves. “I know that probably sounds juvenile, but…”
“It sounds perfect. Coming right up.” He unfolded a blanket as she sank onto the couch, spreading it over her. The dogs jumped up beside her and he sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry about that. We’re lax on rules around here.”
“It’s fine,” she said, tucking the blanket around herself with one hand as she tried to pet them both with the other. “It’s nice company, actually.”
He started to turn toward the kitchen, then realized he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. As he switched directions, he caught her staring at his chest. She quickly looked away, her face coloring. Heat pulsed through his lower body, and he strode toward the staircase, calling out over his shoulder, “I’m just going to grab a shirt first. Be right back.”
When he returned from the kitchen—wearing a shirt and carrying her drink—the dogs had settled down, one on either side of Lark. Her head was tipped back, eyes closed, but she opened them as he approached. He handed her the milk and sat down on the other end of the couch.
“Thanks, Dr. Holt,” she murmured, lifting the mug to blow at the steam.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Under the circumstances, I think it’s okay to call me Jesse.”
Her lips curved into an answering smile as she sipped her drink. “Okay, thanks. I guess we are neighbors, after all.”
He nodded, glancing out the front window into the darkness. “Do you want to talk about it? I mean, about what happened tonight?”
A deep sigh escaped as she stared down into her mug. “I do. It’s just that I don’t remember much. But other things have happened, before tonight, but I know it’s going to sound ridiculous.”
“Try me.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, finally lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. “Well, when I first arrived, I thought I saw a face in one of the upstairs windows. Then there’s the noises…I’ve been woken up by loud thumping and something that sounds like moaning a few nights now, including the night I found Preston so sick. A picture fell off the wall. And now this.” She hiked one shoulder in a small shrug. “All I can remember is a feeling of being chased. The need to get away, to get help. And when you woke me up…” she drifted off, a slight flush returning to her cheeks. “This is going to sound crazy. But when you first found me, as I was waking up or whatever, my head felt…crowded. Like I was fighting for control or something.”
“It doesn’t sound crazy. That’s what it looked like. You fell down as though you were pushed. And then, when I grabbed you, it was because you looked like you were about to fall into the river.”
The pink hue of her skin turned a shade darker, and she looked down, plucking at the blanket on her lap. “Well, I suppose that would have woken me up,” she said, her voice threaded with forced lightheartedness.
“I hope so. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”
“Yeah, me too. And I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”
“Don’t apologize. The whole thing must have been terrifying,” he said gently, searching for the right words to ease her embarrassment. “Listen, Lark…I believe you.” That felt right, and it was true, for the most part. Whether he could bring himself to believe in ghosts was one thing, but he did believe she’d heard strange noises and had a frightening sleepwalking episode. “My mother thought she saw something down near the woods, once. She was convinced it was a ghost.”
“Really?”
His heart twisted at the gratitude playing across her face. “Yes. And I wasn’t exaggerating about the rumors…lots of people around here do think that house is…well, haunted.”
“I did know about that before I moved in…it’s just that, well, I didn’t have a lot of choices. And I didn’t believe in ghosts, either. But now, I’m starting to second-guess that.” A tremor ran through her, and she tightened both hands around the mug.
“What exactly were you told about the house?”
She finished her drink, leaning forward to set the mug down on the coffee table. Bosco put his paw on her lap, and she settled a hand on his wide head. “Not a lot, really. I should probably know more about it, but it was a weird set of circumstances. And everything happened so quickly. I found out I inherited this house, and then suddenly I needed a place to stay. I had nowhere else to go, so I just decided it was fate.”
Another reference to not having anyone else she could depend on in her life. He wanted to ask her about it, but this was not the time. “Makes sense.”
“All I really know is that the house belonged to relatives on my mother’s side of the family, and that when my great aunt Joan died, she left it to me. Oh, and that people here think it’s haunted because two people died there.” She grimaced, the faint freckles on the bridge of her nose bunching together. “I guess I should do a little research on that. My understanding was that there was an accident and a suicide.”
He dragged a hand along his jaw, the stubble reminding him it was now the middle of the night. He really did need to get to sleep, since he had to work in the morning. And yet, as tired as he’d been an hour ago, now he only wanted to keep talking to Lark. But he should really encourage her to get some rest, too. In the bright light of the living room, he couldn’t help noticing the violet smudges shadowing her eyes.
His mind went rogue for a moment, picturing him bringing her upstairs and into his bed. Wrapping his arms around her, kissing her tenderly…
God, he was awful. He pushed the inappropriate image from his thoughts, struggling to focus on the conversation. The very serious conversation that should not lend itself at all to sexual fantasies, no matter how much chemistry he felt between them. That was probably all in his head as well.
“What do you know about the house?” she asked after a few beats of silence.
“Not much more than that. What I’ve heard is a local pastor and his wife lived there in the 1950s, and she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. Some years after that, the husband committed suicide. Hung himself.” He grimaced, rubbing his knuckles. “Various stories have taken hold since then. I’ve heard things like maybe it wasn’t an accident, and she’s haunting the place because he killed her. Or maybe it was an accident, but she wanted him to join her, and her ghost was trying to drive him to suicide. Or that he went crazy with grief and loneliness and tried to end it by killing himself, but all the negative energy remained, along with his spirit.” He shrugged. “Those are the things I heard growing up, anyway. And then some people just say the house is cursed, and it’s both of them haunting the place.”
She scrunched up the side of her mouth. “Great.”
“Yeah. Again, those are the rumors. But if you want, I can ask my mother. She’d know more, especially having lived here so long. And her friends might know more details too.”
“Okay, thanks. I don’t know if it will help, but at the very least, I should probably know that part of my family history.” Raising her hand, she stifled a yawn.
“You must be tired. Do you want to sleep here?”
Color rose in her cheeks again, and he realized how his offer must sound. “I mean, in one of the guest rooms,” he added hurriedly. “Or, you know, on the couch.” A grin twitched at the corners of his lips.
“You sure?” I’d feel much better if you were here. But he quickly realized she probably wouldn’t. She barely even knew him. Why would she feel safe alone in an isolated house with a man who was virtually a stranger?
She nodded, shifting forward and extricating herself from between the two dogs. Benny opened one eye and made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. “I should get home and shower. I need to get cleaned up, and I want to check on Preston.”
“Here, take the blanket,” he instructed as she stood up. Before she could protest, he draped it around her shoulders. His brow wrinkled as he glanced at her lower body. Angry red scratches marred the smooth skin of her legs, and the bottoms of her feet were probably equally torn up. “You want to borrow some shoes? Or socks, at least?”
“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’ll stick to the path this time.” She curled her fingers around the edges of the blanket and gathered it around her chest like a shawl.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“That’s not necessary, really. I’ve taken enough of your time.”
He hoped her concern truly was more about inconveniencing him rather than not feeling safe with him, because on this matter, he was not going to budge. “I’ll walk you home. It’s safe around here for the most part, but still…I need to know you get back okay.”
She nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
At the word “walk”, both dogs had pricked their ears, and tags jingled as they jumped off the couch and looked at the door hopefully.
He rolled his eyes as she laughed. “Fine, you guys can come too.” Grabbing his phone, he opened the door and let them all out into the night.
“They don’t need leashes?” she asked as the dogs bounded ahead of them toward the backyard.
Ghost Moon (Haunting Romance) Page 4