Maybe he was the one going insane. He stepped toward Ben, blocking her view and hopefully helping to lessen the strain on her nerves.
“I know I wasn’t well last week, but I’m fine now.” It took every ounce of will power he possessed not to look at the woman who stood staring at him from only a few feet away. If Ben saw him staring off into what he thought was space, he’d really think Liam needed more time in bed…or time in a locked cell.
Hell, he didn’t feel fine. He felt as if he was being pulled in two different directions. Toward the woman and toward the dining room. At the same time, he felt hot and cold all over. Perhaps his seeing her was a sign his fever had returned.
No, that can’t be it. It can’t be. This is just too real…
He wanted to know her. Know who she was and how she knew his name and how she came to be in his house. And why Ben couldn’t see her. She was flesh and blood, flesh he wanted to touch. She couldn’t be a ghost. Besides, he’d only finished construction on the house a year ago, and no one had died here. Also, what ghost would dress as she did? She was wearing trousers and boots, for heaven’s sake. Weren’t ghosts supposed to wear long, white, flowing garments?
What this woman wore was as close to her curves as her skin. The sight of her didn’t rouse fear, it roused something else, altogether.
No, she couldn’t be spirit. He’d touched her, had felt her heat as he steadied her. Even the enticing scent of her perfume lingered.
Ben took him by the arm and led them both back toward the dining room. “Come back and finish dinner. Finish getting a hearty, hot meal in you, then I’ll get everyone out of here so you can get some sleep. We won’t make it a late night. And I promise no talk of politics.”
They entered the dining room to find Oliver returning to his seat. “Did you need something, Oliver?” Liam asked.
“I saw that you needed more wine, so I refilled your glass. I refilled a few others, also, in your absence.”
“Thank you.” Liam took his seat at the head of the table.
Ben took his seat, too. “Liam thought he heard someone in the music room, but there was no one there.”
“Maybe something fell?” Evelyn said from beside him as Liam again took his seat.
“Perhaps.” He tried to offer her a smile, but he felt as if he choked. The mysterious woman had followed them and now stood in the doorway, her gaze taking in all of his guests. The look on her face was one of pure shock. She held her arms crossed under what he was certain were lovely breasts beneath her red, knitted shirt. Her eyes were huge and round, her face pale. She looked around the room as if searching for answers. He wanted to offer her answers, but he couldn’t. He still had no idea what was happening, who she was, what she was doing in his home. What she was doing to him. Or why only he could see her.
She closed her eyes and sucked in a loud breath. He knew just what she was doing—thinking, hoping when she opened them again he and the dinner party would be gone. He wondered if he could do the same thing, make his dinner guests disappear—so he could ask her all the questions rattling around in his brain.
He tried not to stare at her; he didn’t want anyone to think he was staring at nothing. The last thing he needed was for more people to think him ill.
She opened those mysterious dark eyes and stared harder. He saw her visibly take another deep breath, this one silent. “It’s a freaking dinner party?”
He wanted to ask her the meaning of the word freaking. He had the idea from her tone it was not a polite adjective.
“I can even smell the candles.” Then she looked closer at the candles on his table. “I lit those candles. And what is it you’re eating with that cornbread? It smells delicious. Maybe that’s what my problem is, maybe I’ve gone too long without food, and my blood sugar has dropped to a single digit. That could explain why my headache’s so bad, too.” The woman in red looked a little relieved. “I’m sure people see all sorts of crazy things when their blood sugar drops.”
“Maybe this is just one of Liam’s usual games.” Oliver Wanesworth, Evelyn’s brother, said.
Evelyn even looked right at the woman as she turned to the doorway, but obviously didn’t see her. “You didn’t see anything broken or out of place anywhere, did you?”
Liam stared at the woman, who stared back, amazed that he could keep all the conversations straight, even though the mystery woman’s words made no sense. Blood sugar? “No.” He breathed, working to calm himself and finding it impossible. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. “I guess it was just my imagination. How do you like the chicken gumbo, Evelyn?” He wanted to let the woman know what they were eating. He still wished he could put her at ease in some way.
“Delicious.” Evelyn took a bite as if to show him.
He noticed she didn’t eat much, and merely stirred most of it around. He knew a lie when he heard one. He would rather she was honest with him.
“I told him we’d finish dinner then let him get some sleep,” Ben informed them.
“If you’re Liam Camden, who are all these other people?” the woman asked.
“I was so hoping we could walk. With the way the city is growing every day, it’s hard to keep track of all the new buildings,” Evelyn said.
He hadn’t noticed until then how whiney she sounded.
Again, he glanced beyond Oliver, who was seated opposite him at the end of the table. The woman in red still stood in the doorway. She looked as if she’d just been forced to suck a lemon. Or perhaps she choked on something. With Evelyn’s words, she raised her brows. “You had a fever last week? New buildings? I didn’t think there was any room in this city for new buildings, unless they tore something down.”
Her deep, husky voice calmed him. He wished she would smile. He’d like to see that. He shook his head slightly at that thought. Dear God, not only was he growing to accept his obvious insanity, but he enjoyed it. No one else looked in her direction. No one seemed to hear her. No one else reacted to her. It was as if she belonged to only him. Yes, he liked that.
She moved around the table taking in the party, the room, before she looked out the front window. “I do see new construction going on out there. I don’t remember seeing that before.”
No one else noticed her. He fought the urge to turn and look at her.
Kitty, however, must have noticed her. From the windowsill, Kitty suddenly sat up, hissed, leaped off the sill, then darted from the room.
His guests laughed. “Your cat obviously hears someone playing the piano, too,” Ben said.
“This isn’t happening.” The woman held out her hands and looked at them. “I’m not invisible. Why can’t they see me?” Although she still questioned the idea, she seemed a bit calmer. He liked that as well. He still wished to put her at ease. He watched as she moved back toward the dining room doorway. He also noticed that, as she moved past Penelope, Penelope shivered. “Cold, Penny?” he asked.
“Not really. I just caught a sudden chill, that’s all. It’s gone now.”
“I do so love walking down the street with you, Liam,” Evelyn said, as if he hadn’t just addressed Penelope.
Of course she did, she wanted everyone to think they were a couple.
The woman in the strange red shirt looked at Evelyn, then him. “Is she your girlfriend? Evelyn, right? That’s her name?”
“Yes, Evelyn, and no,” he answered the woman out loud. Then seeing his mistake, he continued, “I’m sorry. I’m not up for a walk this evening, Evelyn. Perhaps another evening.”
“You’re speaking strangely, Liam. I do hope your fever isn’t returning,” Evelyn said. “I worried over you terribly knowing you were ill. And Gerard would not let me come see you.”
“I gave him strict instructions not to let anyone in the house in case it was something contagious.”
Gerard chose that moment to come into the room with the soup tureen to dish out more. He startled the woman near the doorway, making her jump into the room without touch
ing her. No one noticed. Gerard paid her no attention. She followed him a few steps, sniffing. “Geez, that soup smells heavenly.”
Grayson Middleston was not able to attend the party tonight and there was an empty seat at the end of the table, cattycorner from Oliver. Sweet heavens, the woman in red sat down in it as if she meant to join the party. But by the way she sank into the chair, he thought perhaps her legs had gone weak.
He’d worried his friends would think him insane, but he decided to put her to the test and really make a game of her as Oliver suggested, see her reaction. Most of all, he hoped to get some answers. “Maybe it was a ghost, perhaps my house is haunted.”
“That would make things entertaining,” Ben said. “My uncle’s house was haunted by a ghost who used to move things around. It was rumored the ghost was an old sea captain.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not a ghost. Nothing happened to get me dead. I was just playing the piano. Your piano. Now my piano.”
Interesting, he thought.
“Have you seen this ghost?” Evelyn asked.
“Yes, I’ve seen her.”
The men at the table chuckled. “So she’s a woman?” Ben said.
“Yes.”
“This is a fun game, it’s like Questions,” Mary Carrington said, her smile covering her entire face. “I do so love when we play Questions with you, Liam. You are quick and think up fun things.”
“Yes, this is exactly like Questions,” Liam said.
“Is she pretty?” Evelyn asked.
“I believe so, yes.”
“Uh oh, now you’ve done it. You’ve made me her competition.” The woman in red snarked.
Did he? Had it been on purpose? He hadn’t meant it to be, yet he was honest. And for him, he wasn’t interested in Evelyn. So he would never see her as competition. And while Oliver was his friend, Liam hadn’t realized until then just how often Oliver had pushed his sister in Liam’s direction.
“Where did this pretty ghost come from?” Ben asked.
“Michigan,” his ‘ghost’ informed them.
Liam was still drawn to her voice. “She says she’s from Michigan.”
“A Yank ghost? From Michigan? That place is full of savages. Perhaps she was killed by one. And it’s a long way to come to haunt your house. She couldn’t find something closer?” Oliver teased.
The woman chuckled. And yes, she had a lovely smile, quick as it was. She did appear to enjoy his party, as if the game of Questions was helping her as it was him. “I wasn’t trying to find something at all. I was just coming to the house I inherited.”
“No, I suppose not. And she wants to know who everyone is,” he informed them.
“I’m Ben Gallagher, Liam’s best friend.” Ben called the words out as if he needed to make certain Liam’s ghost heard him.
“And I’m Mary Carrington,” Mary piped in happily, enjoying the game. “This is my husband, Jacob.”
“I can announce myself, darling.” Jacob’s words held a hint of irritation.
Penelope sat next to Jacob. She looked around the table, then at Liam sheepishly. “Oh, very well, I’ll join in the game. I’m Penelope Murphy—as if you all don’t already know me.”
“I’m Oliver Wanesworth.” His words were more irritated than Jacob’s had been. “I don’t see why you always have to play these games, Liam. They do so become tiring.”
“Oh, I enjoy them, too,” the man on the other side of him said. “And I’m Sam. Sam Hamilton.”
“Sam’s just trying to start a new fashion trend by wearing a thin tie.” Ben still talked loudly as if he needed to yell so the woman could hear him.
“I rather like my new tie,” Sam said.
“I like it, too. And this is certainly a new one, Liam. I’m Madelyn Greenspan,” said the woman next to Sam.
The game continued around the table. “James Hadfield.”
“Henry Williams.”
Evelyn let out a huff. “And I’m Evelyn, of course. What color is her hair?”
“She is definitely making me competition. Oh, my God, I can’t believe I’m talking like this. I can’t believe I’m sinking into this illusion. I don’t care how good looking you are, Liam Camden. I so need a drink.”
He bit his lip to keep from asking her if she really found him attractive. But Evelyn captured his attention. She’s certainly acting pouty, he thought. He considered not answering to be polite and stop the competition. Then he decided he didn’t care. “Dark. Dark eyes, too.”
“You’re upsetting her. And if she isn’t your girlfriend, you should have probably seated her somewhere else at the table, like where I am.”
Then you couldn’t be sitting there enjoying my game.
Not that he wanted to be impolite, but he didn’t care that Evelyn was upset. He enjoyed playing this game. After all, he could play, get answers, and not feel insane, or at least not care if he were. He could share this ghost with his friends and they enjoyed it too, except for perhaps Evelyn, whom he avoided looking at.
“What color dress is she wearing?” Mary asked.
Oh, yes, complete competition. He couldn’t help but wonder why women were always interested in beauty and attire. “Red. It’s…knitted.” He thought it best not to mention the fact the mystery woman wore men’s trousers.
“It’s a sweater,” the invisible houseguest informed him.
“Knitted?” Evelyn sounded as if it was her turn to suck a lemon. “A knitted dress? Come, now, Liam, this is becoming absurd. This isn’t like your normal game of Questions, and I don’t think I like it.”
“It’s called a sweater,” he explained.
“A sweater?” Evelyn’s tone was really starting to rake on his nerves. “Something designed to make her sweat? Why on earth would she wear such a thing?”
At the far end of the table the woman shook her head and laughed. She had a nice laugh that rang through the dining room, not too loud, not overbearing, just pleasant. “It doesn’t make me sweat, it keeps me warm in cooler weather, although it’s much more pleasant here than what I left in Michigan yesterday. I would have arrived sooner, but I had a lay over of several hours. I think it was in Houston.” Then her attention was drawn back to Evelyn’s as if she just remembered they were in the middle of a game. “Perhaps you should take her for a walk and ease her mind, cool her jets.”
Her laughter left him smiling. But her words brought about more questions. Cool her what? And she got here from Michigan in less than two days? Impossible.
Even after his fever, his imagination was not this far-fetched.
“What’s her name?” Ben asked. “We’ve had to tell her all of ours, after all.”
She looked at Ben. “Clare. And I’d sure like to know how this little party got into my dining room.”
“Her name is Clare.” Liam liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. He also liked how she seemed to be enjoying this game he’d created. Just as he did, she appeared calmer, too, relaxing into the game. However she’d come to be here, it had frightened her as much as her sudden appearance had startled him. She leaned one elbow on the table and twirled a tendril of her hair around her finger. He fought the urge to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. Just watching her was…
Enticing. He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted her just then. Heaven knew Evelyn had never left him feeling this way. Hopefully, it wasn’t another fever.
Gerard finished refilling everyone’s bowl and carried the tureen from the room. Clare drummed her fingers on the table and looked around as if she might try a bite off someone’s plate.
“Clare? Couldn’t you come up with something more original, Liam?” Evelyn sounded downright nasally. At least she’d been mannerly enough to wait until Gerard was finished and out of the room.
He reached for his glass of wine, ignoring her.
Clare’s beautiful dark eyes met his. “I think you’ve totally pissed her off.”
He spit his wine at her choice of words.
Then coughed to cover it up. Ben reached over and slapped him on the back.
“Are you all right?” Ben gave him a second slap.
Liam coughed again then cleared his throat as his eyes watered. Had he really heard her correctly? Yes, he had. He supposed her words shouldn’t surprise him. She talked like a bloody pirate. And yet, at the same time, he found it refreshing; a woman who spoke her mind and didn’t care what anyone thought. He supposed it shouldn’t matter that he was the only anyone who could hear her. “Yes, thank you.”
“Oh, you didn’t expect me to say that word? Pissed?” Clare cocked her lips.
He shook his head slightly and gave her a look that he hoped conveyed no.
Clare grinned at him. “Well, considering this is my house, and I probably just conjured all you people up because I didn’t eat enough today and I need some sleep and I suffer from jet lag, I can say whatever the hell I like. I’m sure by tomorrow, you will all be gone.” She continued drumming her fingers on the table. If she was sitting next to him, he would have reached out and held her hand. To stop her drumming. Better yet, he wanted to brush the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Hell, he’d never wanted to touch a woman as much as he wanted to touch her.
Penelope Murphy finally spoke. “I’ve heard, when there are spirits about, you are to ask them what they want, what they search for, so that you can help them find it. It’s the only way they can move on. It’s as if they have unfinished business here.”
Clare shrugged, her breasts shifted in her sweater with the movement, further intriguing him. “If I’m searching for anything, it’s a way to get you all out of my house. But could you please leave the gumbo so I can eat it? This is my home. I’m not a spirit. I have no unfinished business. I do, however, think I shall start one. A business, that is.”
He wanted to argue with her, but talking to a figment of his imagination was insane enough. Arguing with one was worse. “She says she’s not looking for anything.”
“I also said this is my home. You seem to ignore it when I say that. And while I know Liam Camden built this house, I doubt the two of us can live in it together. So maybe I should ask what you all are looking for or what you want.”
Camden Place: The Haunted Book Three Page 3