Deep IsThe Night: Haunted Souls

by Denise Agnew

  Before she could resurrect a protest, his fingers slipped into the back of her hair and he leaned in close. She put her hands out in defense and her palms landed on the hardness of his wide, muscled chest. His strength revived primitive female responses that screamed for fulfillment.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  His mouth almost brushed hers. “Showing you we are meant to taste passion.”

  Another brush of hot lips made her quiver with delight. Her eyelids fluttered half closed as his lips hovered over hers. “But I think—”

  “Don’t think,” he whispered against her lips, his breath hot and minty. “Feel what we have together.”

  And his mouth covered hers.

  Chapter Four

  Clarissa made a muffled protest in the back of her throat as Ronan’s mouth molded hers. At first she couldn’t think. Her nipples tightened immediately as arousal smoothed warm and seductive and drifted downward. As his lips shaped hers, desire rose with new flames, taunting her into responding.

  She couldn’t believe this. How could she respond to this stranger, a man she didn’t even like? Rational thought left, removed by the wild sensations streaking into her body with furious intensity.

  She savored his touch and wondered at his ability to make her feel treasured, worshipped. Her world went into riot, a million sensations taking root in her body as he deepened the kiss. Her fingers clutched at his sweater, needing him as an anchor. She palmed his muscles and enjoyed the male authority beneath her fingers. He was hard and rough, his muscles bunching and releasing as he moved against her with the subtle gyrations of rugged male animal. Relentless, his lips searched hers, asking for passion she wished to show but knew she shouldn’t.

  She melted against him. She’d never swayed into a man’s embrace or his arms with whole abandon. Stunned by everything she felt, she allowed Ronan’s essence, what made him unique, to touch her heart and soul. His kisses set her on fire, a combination of spine-melting tenderness and soul-searing sex.

  When she eased closer, he moaned low in his throat and slipped his arms around her waist. Her breasts crushed against his chest, his cock pressed into her stomach. New, burning hot desire heated her body, dancing over her skin like lightning strikes.

  When his muscled thigh pushed up between her legs and pressed against hot, intimate folds, she moaned softly. With rhythmic, insistent motion his thigh slid against tender areas that pulsed and dampened. His palm slid over her ass, testing and caressing. He shaped her with that hand, branding her his own. She shivered against the intimate invasion, focusing on the way his touch cupped and shaped her butt and the way his thigh rubbed against her intimately. His tongue slipped into her mouth, plunging and exploring.

  Searing new sensations took hold, driving her toward an unknown passion. A tight, uncontrollable ache pulsed between her thighs and she undulated against him, dying for some relief from restless desire. She needed more. More.

  Deep in her mind she felt something, a tickle in her brain as if someone searched inside her psyche. Each brush against her thoughts startled, yet aroused. Heat moistened the folds between her legs and she gasped against his mouth in tortured need. Again the tentative probe of her thoughts warmed her from the inside out, demanding an answer.

  So she gave it. Yes. Yes.

  Deep and undeniably Irish, Ronan’s voice entered her head. My beautiful, beautiful colleen.

  As his palms warmed her back, searching and caressing, his lips plied and coaxed. Incredible desire built as she arched in his hold, pressing into his muscled frame. Craving rose at the core, and she unleashed desires without a second thought. Responding to his ravenous kiss, she stroked his tongue with her own.

  Delicious.

  Seductive.

  Beyond compare.

  Desire had never been this strong.

  She shivered and pulled back. His arms banded her tight against his chest as she stared up at the Irishman in blatant surprise. “What was that? What did you do?”

  Blazing with an intensity that seized her breath, his fiery dark gaze enveloped her before he dove in for another kiss. With any other man she might have kneed him in the groin to escape. Instead, uncontrollable desire kept her in his arms.

  He twisted his mouth over hers, effectively parting her lips as his tongue sought hers. Clarissa felt like a virgin tasting a man for the first time. With warm, deep strokes, he pumped his tongue into her mouth. Her loins clenched and ached as another hot pulse immediately took up residence between her thighs as he continued to press his thigh against her swollen labia and clit.

  Yes. Oh, yes.

  Releasing her lips, he whispered fervently, “God’s blood, you are sweet. Hot and warm and beyond bearing.”

  He took her mouth again, a hungry, carnal assault that started wild feelings deep down in the most secret recesses of her soul.

  A vision speared into her head, taking her by surprise. Ronan smiling and laughing with the little blonde woman, her eyes sparkling with joy at being near him. His eyes held a youth and innocence, a glow of a man who believed she would be his for all time. Love surged back and forth between Ronan and the young woman, and a strange heartache lanced through Clarissa.

  Ronan broke the kiss and drew back several steps, his chest heaving, his eyes filled with ever present flame. To her surprise, shock also covered his face, as if she’d said or done something amazing.

  Before she could ask him about the blonde, he turned away and headed for the door. He paused to put on his coat and the strange cloak lying on a chair. Without looking at her he unlocked the door and left.

  Stunned, she didn’t move for a full two minutes. She approached the door and relocked it, then turned and leaned her back against it while her breathing synchronized and her heart stopped pounding.

  Amazed at the spectacular arousal that had jumped back and forth between her and Ronan, Clarissa couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

  She touched her lips. “What’s happening to me?”

  And why on earth should I be jealous of some blonde woman in one of Ronan’s previous lives?

  Or had it been simple empathy for the doomed couple? She couldn’t be sure. She closed her eyes and tried resurrecting what she’d seen in her mind’s eye. Ronan’s clothing and the woman’s came from a time in the distant past. She concentrated and brought the image she’d seen clear in her mind. They’d been sitting on wooden benches behind the tall, imposing castle. She thought back to what she knew about castles. This one, what little she’d seen of it, appeared to exist sometime in the twelve hundreds or perhaps later. The symbol of feudal power went beyond a simple motte and bailey erection of wood and clay. Sun had glinted off its massive stone walls in afternoon sunlight.

  She opened her eyes with a start and found she sat on the floor with her back to the hotel room door. She glanced at her watch. Damn, she’d done it again. More than twenty minutes passed while she’d cruised around in the past. Shrugging off self-admonition, Clarissa stood and went into the bathroom to wash up. She had a lot of work to do.

  Once she had a shower, she decided she needed to make that call to Erin Greenway. Clarissa hesitated before she lifted the phone. Intuition said to call Erin, but another part said the spooky buildings here in Pine Forest called to her camera and she should get out to the cemeteries while she had daylight to burn. She wanted to parade through Pine Forest and search out the memories of growing up here.

  She tapped one peach-painted nail against the plastic receiver. Could she trust Ronan, a man with otherworldly eyes, amazing strength, and an odd ability to turn up in her hotel room without using the door?

  Other than the fact he’d suffered through some past lives, the man had other talents, and a strangeness that defied logic.

  “Okay,” she said to the empty hotel room. “Should I be afraid of you, Ronan Kieran?”

  Shaking her head, she decided to call Erin, then locate Jim Leggett to see if he could accompany her to the graveyards. Sh
e didn’t relish going anywhere with Jim, but who else would be interested in helping her with the photographs but a ghost hunter?

  She tried Erin’s number at the library and reached her there. “Erin, this is Clarissa Gaines.”

  “Hi, Clarissa.” Erin’s soft, enthusiastic voice made Clarissa feel at ease. “Ronan mentioned you and said you wanted to get together with Lachlan and I. There are some other friends you should meet, too.”

  “You must mean Jared Thornton and Micky Gunn.”

  Her hesitation came clear over the line. “How did you know about them?”

  Clarissa sighed. “I’ve known about the four of you for some time. I would have approached you at the meeting last night, but the crowd was a little much for me.”

  “Since you were there, you know we tried to stop the community center Halloween celebration.”

  Clarissa closed her eyes, a strange lassitude enveloping her. “I’m sorry it didn’t do much good.”

  “I think people believe if they cancel the party they’ve given in to the fear. And really, they’re right. But they don’t know how dangerous things will be on Halloween.”

  Clarissa sighed. “Of course they don’t. It’s easier to deny the worst than to come to grips with something being wrong. I remember…”

  “Yes?”

  “When I was growing up here the townspeople denied the supernatural to each other’s faces. In secret they may have believed, but in public they lied about what they thought. Maybe they thought saying it out loud would make it worse.”

  Clarissa heard papers rustling, then Erin spoke. “People told me that the town admitted that the place is haunted.”

  Clarissa stared at the dingy off-white ceiling. “I remember it a little differently. My parents were part of the denial crowd.”

  “What about you? Did you believe in ghosts as a child?”

  “You could say that.” She didn’t plan to tell Erin everything this minute. When she had them all together it would be different. “I’ll let you go now. I don’t want to keep you.”

  “Don’t worry.” Erin’s voice held humor. “Library attendance dropped dramatically since the murders started. After those young people were found murdered under the Gunn Inn…well, that slowed turnout significantly.”

  Clarissa glanced at the bedside clock, concerned she hadn’t done much yet. “I read about the last murders.”

  “Then it sounds like we really do need to talk soon. You can come to dinner at my house, I hope.”

  “Of course.” She wrote down directions on the pad next to the phone. “Seven o’clock it is.” Clarissa’s curiosity pushed her to ask more questions. “Before you go, I have a couple of questions about Ronan. Do you know what he was doing in the cemetery last night?”

  “Ronan has been patrolling since the murders, trying to keep people safe.”

  Confused, Clarissa wrinkled her nose. “Patrolling? Is he employed by the police department?”

  Erin’s chuckle sounded breathy. “Not at all. He told us about you being in the graveyard last night and that he warned you away from going out alone. Please listen to what he has to say. He knows what he’s talking about.”

  “The police sanction him playing neighborhood watch?”

  “They don’t know.” Erin sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t have told you that. Please, for all our sakes, don’t tell the cops what he’s doing.”

  What if he was participating in something highly illegal? But if he was, could Erin, Lachlan, Jared and Micky be in on the activities? From the little she knew of them, it didn’t seem likely. Ronan, though…

  “Ronan’s from Ireland, right?” Clarissa asked.

  “He couldn’t get more Irish.”

  “His language pattern sounds like he might be from an earlier time.”

  Erin laughed. “He’s definitely old-fashioned and has old world sympathies.” Erin’s voice lowered. “When you come to dinner there are a few more things you’ll learn about him, too.”

  Clarissa didn’t know if old-fashioned could be considered good or bad. She guessed it depending on which part of old-fashioned Erin meant. “How long have you known him?”

  “Less than a month, but he’s a good friend already. Lachlan knows him from way back and can vouch for him in case you’re concerned.”

  Feeling a little steadier about the mysterious Irishman, Clarissa finished the conversation and they hung up. Urgency made her think about the graveyard and how she needed to get out there and take pictures. She was finished doubting. Time to get moving.

  * * * * *

  Clarissa sat in the car at the graveyard outside of town and wondered if she tempted fate. She half expected to see Ronan here, demanding she leave the area. She figured she’d start here taking some photographs, then work her way back over to St. Bartholomew’s where she’d encountered the mugger last night.

  Outside the cozy warmth of her car, the temperature dropped, and although she wanted to take photos now, she felt torn between three things. Getting her work accomplished, not encountering a serial killer, and meeting up with Jim, the man who’d broken her heart all those years ago.

  She watched trees sway in the wind near the black iron fence line. Like many old cemeteries, this one featured the proverbial scraggly looking, winter-barren trees, their gnarled, snow-covered branches reaching like bony fingers into the sky. Time-worn gravestones sat like old, neglected people, their ravaged gray faces worried and uncertain. Even the white cap of snow on top of each stone gave them a special creepiness.

  She smiled.

  Perfect.

  The cemetery possessed the ideal atmosphere for the shots she needed. Gravestones competed for attention with crypts, the graveyard not exactly huge, but not small either. Hilly in places, the area seemed more welcoming in some ways than Pine Forest itself.

  Something came to her with a jolt of surprise. She’d been here as a child and a teen but somehow the place didn’t frighten her the way it did then.

  Thank goodness.

  Maybe whatever evil she’d felt long ago no longer walked among these resting places. One less monster to fret over, perhaps.

  She almost left the car to start work, independence demanding action. Instead she recalled Ronan’s warnings. She heard a car engine approaching and seconds later a sedan approached with Jim in the driver’s seat.

  With a wave he gave her a cheerful smile. Half concerned she’d made a big mistake meeting up with Jim, she climbed out of the Acura with her camera bag in hand.

  “Hi.” Jim walked around the car, the bag slung over his shoulder laden with electronic doodads she knew he used for his ghost hunting. “You’re right, this place has atmosphere. Think we’ll meet up with a Freddy Kruger?”

  “I hope not. One time was enough for me, thank you very much.”

  As they made their way through the open gate, a breeze rustled through the trees and snow floated from the treetops. They wandered through the graveyard, scrutinizing various gravestones and marveling how some older stones appeared better preserved, while newer ones sometimes didn’t weather the elements as well. As she always did when she took photographs in places of the dead, she wondered if any ghosts stood and watched.

  As she snapped a photograph of a Celtic cross, Jim held his electromagnetic counter in front of him. “Do you ever get any ghosts in your photographs?”

  She took the shot before she answered him. “Yes, actually.”

  She didn’t look at him, well aware he’d offer her a skeptical grin laced with his usual know-it-all bravado. “You’ll have to show them to me sometime.”

  Although ready to take another picture, she lowered her camera. “I don’t have time to show my etchings these days.”

  His eyebrows tilted up. “I heard over the grapevine you’ve been traveling a lot for your books.”

  She started wandering again. “That’s right.”

  He followed, holding the meter out in front of him, his gaze pinned to the reading. “So thi
s book about Pine Forest would be the third one, right?”

  Surprised, she looked at him as they walked. “You’ve kept track?”

  “You’d be surprised how much I know about you.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not a stalker.”

  A little amazed he’d paid attention to her career, she kept her gaze on him.

  “Look out!” Jim reached for her, dropping his meter in the process.

  She tripped headlong over a flat gravestone and started to fall. A squeak of surprise left her throat at the same time she kept a tight grip on her camera with one hand. Jim grabbed her, tugging Clarissa against his chest.

  Her breath whooshed out as she landed against him and her camera jabbed into her breasts. “Ow!”

  He released her immediately. “You okay?”

  Chagrinned, she straightened her stocking hat. “Yes. Sorry, I’m not usually this clumsy.”

  Jim bent over to pick up his meter, staring at it with a frown. She waited for the expected explosion. “Damn, I think I broke it.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s my fault.”

  He shook his head. “Accidents happen.”

  A little surprised, she peered at him. “The old Jim would have exploded.”

  He shook his head. “The old Jim was an asshole.” Her eyebrows went up and he laughed. “I realized that was one of the reasons why I lost you. After you left Pine Forest I started to change.” He looked deep into her eyes. “When I saw you last night at the meeting, I knew I had to see you again, and not just to make sure you were safe. I wanted you to know the new Jim Leggett.”

  Taken off guard by the sudden confession, discomfort made her take a step back. “Okay, that’s fair. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.”

  He smiled. “You expected me to get mad and unreasonable. To prove that people with red hair have a temper.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Some do. I’m not the most conservative person with my anger.”