Sweeter Than Chocolate: Valentine's Day Anthology

by Gina Kincade

  “Magnus?” The woman spoke with a startled gasp. “Are you speaking of Magnus Campbell?”

  Wendy blushed. “Actually, I don’t know his last name. Do you know him?”

  “As a matter of speaking,” the woman said. “He’s my great-great uncle. More greats than that, I think.”

  “Uh, no,” Wendy said, taking in the woman’s aged appearance once more. “I think you must be mistaken. The man I’m talking about is in his mid-thirties. Tall, dark and handsome.” She laughed nervously.

  The woman nodded. “That’s Magnus Campbell, for certain.”

  “It can’t be,” Wendy insisted, frowning at the woman’s insistence. “I just saw this man a few hours ago. He’s not the type that could be someone’s great-great-uncle. He looks to be in his mid-thirties.”

  The woman smiled and sighed patiently. “My name is Marie MacDougall. I’m the owner and manager of Rebecca’s Inn. This property has been in my family for several generations. It was named after my great-great, oh…many great’s grandmother, Rebecca Campbell, whose brother was Magnus Campbell. I’m well versed in my family’s history as well as the rumors of the ghost who haunts the inn.”

  “What?” Wendy took a step back. She had a strong urge to turn and run. Suddenly, she didn’t want to hear what Marie MacDougall had to say. Instead, she wanted to search the grounds for Magnus. Surely, he was there somewhere.

  Instead, her feet were rooted to the spot as she listened to Marie speak.

  “Magnus Campbell was murdered one night by the woman he loved. They were to be married the day after Valentine’s Day, but his betrothed loved another and did not wish for the marriage. So, the night before the wedding, while he slept, she crept into his room and stabbed him in the heart.”

  All the warmth drained from Wendy as Marie spoke, as she envisioned a beautiful woman creeping into Magnus’s room to kill him. Her stomach twisted in knots.

  “Reports and rumors began a year later. A man with a striking resemblance to Magnus was seen roaming the property on Valentine’s Day the next year, and again the next and every year since. He doesn’t appear to everyone. It’s said that he searches for his one true love, the woman who will love him back.”

  Marie finished with a sad, dreamy smile, and Wendy stared for a long moment.

  “That’s a lot of nonsense.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but Wendy’s heart fluttered rapidly with fear in her chest.

  A ghost? No. She hadn’t just spent the most glorious night of her life with a ghost. Had she?

  Marie nodded. “There are those who don’t believe in spirits. I admit I’ve never seen him, but I’ve talked to people who have, and they all seem convinced that he’s real.”

  “He is real,” Wendy agreed. “He wasn’t mist or an apparition. He was solid and intelligent and strong. We danced, and we talked and we…” She’d been about to tell this woman about the amazing sex they had, but that was too much to share.

  “Come with me,” Marie said smiling. She walked around the desk and waved gently with one hand for Wendy to join her. Wendy didn’t want to follow. She didn’t want to learn anything else about this supposed ghost, but her feet moved despite her misgivings, and she followed Marie into a long hallway. She remembered this hallway when she’d searched the inn last night for Magnus.

  Marie stopped in front of a large painting of a portrait. Wendy hadn’t looked at any of the portraits last night. She’d been too determined to find the charming man who had danced with her. The hallway led to the back of the inn, to the gardens there. When she arrived yesterday, she’d kept to her room, but had seen the gardens from her window.

  “This is Magnus Campbell.” Marie pointed to the portrait. “My many-greats-uncle.”

  Wendy didn’t want to look, but she forced her gaze upon the portrait. Magnus…her Magnus…stared back at her. He looked the same. The same dark hair, blue eyes, tiny cleft in his chin. The same broad shoulders and wicked smile.

  “Oh, my God,” Wendy whispered.

  “I thought you might recognize him.” Marie’s hands folded together in front of her. “So, you were the one he visited last night. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. He’s been dead for over two hundred years.”

  “This can’t be the same man…” Wendy blinked and blinked again. She stared at the portrait, searching for some slight difference in the man to compare with the one she met last night. “It just can’t be possible.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Marie spoke gently, then backed away, leaving Wendy to continue staring at the portrait.

  It must be some kind of trick. Or this must be Magnus’s ancestor, one he was named after. Yes, that made much more sense. But why would Marie lie to her?

  The memory of their shared time together still tingled across her skin. She felt his body, his scent on her skin, even after she’d showered. Her body was sore in places that hadn’t been used in years. She hadn’t imagined their night together. It had been real. It wasn’t a dream.

  It couldn’t be.

  Despite the doubt beginning to take root, Wendy left the hallway and searched the rest of the inn. He had to be here somewhere. He wasn’t a ghost. It just wasn’t possible. When she found no sign of him inside, she grabbed her coat and searched the grounds outside. She walked through the extensive gardens, checking every bench, every area that someone might wander.

  When her search came up empty, she returned to the portrait and stared again.

  Deep in her heart, she began to believe she’d finally found Mr. Wonderful…and he was a ghost who only appeared once a year.

  Great. Just great. That would be her luck, wouldn’t it?

  Then a thought jumped into her brain that made her somewhat nauseous. She went in search of Marie MacDougall. She finally found her in the dining room, helping the staff clear the breakfast dishes away.

  “Mrs. MacDougall,” Wendy called as she approached.

  The woman turned and on seeing Wendy, she smiled warmly. “Please, call me Marie.”

  “Marie,” Wendy repeated, slightly breathless. “Can I have one more moment of your time?” She glanced at the staff who had turned at her entrance. “Privately.”

  “Of course.”

  Wendy followed Marie out of the dining room and into what looked to be the woman’s office where she invited Wendy to have a seat in one of the two empty chairs.

  “I have another question about your resident…ghost.”

  Marie nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  Wendy clasped her fingers together, holding them in a tight fist. Now that she had Marie MacDougall in private surroundings, she felt awkward asking such a delicate question.

  “About those women…” Wendy searched for the right words to ask her question. “Did any of them ever report…having relations with the ghost?”

  Marie’s eyes widened.

  “Asking for a friend,” Wendy blurted as she felt a blush rising in her cheeks.

  “Um, well, no,” Marie said finally. “None that I know, at any rate.”

  “Oh.” Wendy’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure if this information relieved or disappointed her. After all, why was this happening to her?

  “Are you all right?” Marie leaned forward in her chair.

  “Yes,” she nodded quickly. “I’m fine.”

  “Was there an…incident last night? Something we need to report?”

  An incident? Oh, yes. Most definitely there was an incident, but not one she wanted to report to anyone other than her best friend. How could she explain to Marie MacDougall that she’d just spent the most fantastic night of her life with the ghost of her great-great-who-knows-how-many-greats uncle?

  It was still too difficult for Wendy to comprehend.

  “Not at all,” Wendy said, forcing herself to relax into a smile. “My stay here has been extremely rewarding. In fact, I’d like to book the same room for next Valentine’s Day. Do you take reservations that far in advance?”

  Chapter Fiver />
  One year later…

  Another year, another Valentine’s Day.

  Magnus wandered the halls through the inn as he did every year on the anniversary of his death. Not much had changed since last year. The same red, white and pink decorations were back in place, some new additions had been added such as the miniature stone statue of a Cupid by the front doors. Other than that, the structure that had been his home for so long was being well cared for by his sister’s descendants. He was pleased, and he knew Rebecca would be proud.

  He watched distantly as the staff made the place ready for the annual Valentine’s Day event. The restaurant was always filled for such holidays. Dinner and dancing were a requirement that many couples cherished and none more so than those who attended Valentine’s Day dinner at Rebecca’s Inn and Restaurant.

  It wouldn’t be long until people began filling the tables, the floor would be crowded with dancers and Magnus would again search for his true love.

  The woman who would save his soul.

  The image of one woman consumed his thoughts. A woman with ginger hair, vibrant green eyes and a smile that left his knees weak.

  Wendy.

  He thought of her often during his nights of unrest. Which was most every night. Although he was not visible to mortals save one night of the year, he could still occasionally observe those around him. And as he watched those people come and go, he searched for Wendy’s ginger hair hoping to see her smile once more.

  But after that night a year ago, he hadn’t seen her since.

  And why should he? She’d told him without words she wanted him only for one night, hadn’t she? She’d suffered the same sense of loneliness as had he. For one night, he was able to console her, to make her feel loved and desired. To help uncover the passion that she kept hidden within her. He had helped her, and he had enjoyed doing it. What he hadn’t expected was for that one night to haunt him still. He hadn’t thought one woman could affect him so profoundly.

  He also hadn’t suspected that he might need her more than she needed him.

  One night. One perfect night.

  The rest of his lonely existence stretched gloomily before him.

  But as this was the only night of the year that he could converse with mortals, Magnus would make the best of it. His deep loneliness would never be cured, but perhaps some conversation might help him get through another year of being ignored and forgotten.

  As the night wore on, hand-holding couples began filling the restaurant. Magnus wandered throughout the property, waiting for the place to fill before he went in search of someone to talk to.

  When he arrived in the restaurant hours later, he stepped into the room and spotted familiar ginger hair.

  She sat alone at the same corner table as he found her in last year. She wore the same dress and heels. His heart gave a leap of joy when he recognized Wendy sitting at the table, as if she waited for him.

  He slowly approached, dreading the possibility that she was not alone. He didn’t see sign of anyone occupying the table with her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t waiting for someone.

  Like last year.

  He reached the table, but she hadn’t seen him. She was busily swiping at the small device in her hand. He still marveled at the technology as the years passed.

  “Pardon me,” Magnus said, clearing his throat before speaking. “Is this seat taken?”

  Copper tipped lashes swept upward and as he met her emerald gaze, he thought his heart might leap from his chest. She was beautiful. More so than he remembered.

  Did she remember him?

  The thought of her forgetting him as so many others chilled him. He didn’t want to be forgotten any longer.

  “The seat is reserved,” she said, and his heart sung at the sound of her voice.

  “Still waiting for Mr. Wonderful?” He arched a dark brow. Was she still waiting, or had she found her Mr. Wonderful? There was a very good chance she might be married. He glanced at her hand, but after setting her phone in her purse, she kept her hands clasped on her lap. He couldn’t see if her finger held a ring or not.

  Wendy nodded. “I’ve been waiting an entire year for him.”

  His heart thumped wildly. Did she mean…

  “May I?” He gestured to the chair.

  She nodded but said nothing as he sat across from her.

  “A year is a long time to wait. Why haven’t you found someone to replace him, yet?”

  “There can be no substitute for a man like him,” she whispered.

  His body tightened at the soft sound of her voice. He wanted to reach across the table to take her hand in his, lead her to the dance floor like last year, then take her to bed where he could hear her shout his name as he left her gasping for air. He longed to feel her body pressed against his, to feel her wrapped around him.

  He wanted her. But for more one night. He wanted her for forever.

  Something he could never have.

  “You shouldn’t waste your time on a man who keeps you waiting,” Magnus said, although the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

  “I think he’s worth the wait.” Wendy’s lips curved into a small smile. “In fact, he’s one in a million.”

  “Is he indeed?” Magnus grunted. “What makes him so special?”

  Wendy leaned closer, placing her elbows on the table. Her hands dangled over the edge, but he caught sight of her finger and was relieved to see it empty.

  “Well, he’s unlike any other man I’ve ever met. He’s sweet, passionate, caring, and…” She leaned closer still and lowered her voice. “He’s a ghost.”

  His eyes widened. He wasn’t certain what he was expecting her to say, but surely it wasn’t this.

  “Yes,” Wendy continued, her head bobbing in a nod. “A freakin’ ghost. Can you believe it? Of all the guys to fall in love with, I fall in love with a ghost. And not just any old ghost. Oh, no.” She shook her head vehemently this time and her voice raised a degree. “I fall in love with a ghost who only materializes once a year. One. Day. A. Year.”

  “Wendy, I—”

  “On Valentine’s Day. What? You couldn’t pick a more wretched holiday for star-crossed lovers? It just had to be Valentine’s Day.”

  “Wendy—”

  “No,” she said, clearly not finished. “But, that’s okay, right? Because I mean, that gives me time to research this guy, you know? Check out his background so to speak. Find out what manner of man he is, or rather was…and do you know what I discovered?”

  “What?” He reeled back. This was new. In the two hundred years he spent haunting this inn, he never had anyone search his history and then return to the inn again.

  “I found out that when he was alive, he was a great guy.” A sheen washed over her eyes as she spoke this, but she blinked her eyes and it was gone. “He was amazing. A wonderful man who spent his life doing good for others. And then he had the unfortunate luck to fall in love with the wrong woman. A narcissist who didn’t see his worth. She took advantage of you, you know.”

  “Indeed.” His mouth dried at the mention of Melissande. His memory of the night she killed him was still quite clear in his mind.

  “She didn’t appreciate what a wonderful guy you really were.” Here, Wendy let out a humorless laugh and that shimmer grew in her eyes again. “Mr. Wonderful.” She swiped the tears before they could fall and sobered as she gazed directly at him. “I visited your grave, Magnus Campbell.”

  He had nothing to say to that. His eyes widened, but he kept his gaze fixed on her.

  “You really are a ghost, aren’t you?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut at the agony in her voice.

  “I am.” He nodded, but then he reached his hand across the table and took her fingers into his. “But for this night, I am corporeal, and I am yours.”

  She sucked in a breath as her fingers tightened around his. He reveled at the feel of her delicate digits in his much larger hand.

  “You may do with
me as you like,” he continued. “If you wish to rage at me all night, I am willing to bear it.”

  “Seriously?” Wendy smiled as a few tears escaped her lashes. “I have one night to spend in your arms. I’m not going to waste it yelling at you.” She glanced at the dance floor where a few of the couples were swaying gently to the music playing. “Come on,” she nodded. “Do you want to dance? Or do you want to eat? Oh, do ghosts need food?”

  “Wendy, I…” Magnus’s breath hitched in his throat at the implication of her words. “I am overjoyed with your presence here tonight, truly I am. However…” He paused, wanting, no needing to put what he said in the right words. “I want you to find someone capable of making you happy. Someone who can be there for you each night. Someone to hold and comfort you, inspire and admire you. I cannot be those things.”

  “You are those things and more.” Wendy smiled again. “I think you were right when you said it last year.”

  “Said what?”

  “My Mr. Wonderful was born in the wrong century. Maybe the reason you’re a ghost is that you’ve been waiting all your afterlife to find me.”

  “I’ve never heard truer words.” Magnus smiled. He stood, and she joined him. Together they walked onto the dance floor where they held each other close, swaying with the others to the music.

  Magnus enjoyed the feel of her in his arms, the experience of holding her close and wishing there was some way he could never let her go. He wanted nothing more than to be that man she dreamed of, the one who could hold her hand through thick and thin, good times and bad. To keep her safe and aware that with him by her side, she would never be alone ever again.

  As the evening progressed, dancing became a prelude for something more intimate. They eventually found their way to a bench in the garden where they talked of so many things, more than last year. She told him of all the things she’d read about him, and he could speak freely for the first time of his life and death. Then they talked of her, her work and her family, her friend, Eve, who had not given up her hobby of matchmaker.