Shades of Winter

by Linda Fallon

  “I don’t start things I can’t finish,” he said.

  “The answer is still no.”

  He didn’t seem alarmed or disappointed. “Why?”

  Katherine sighed. At least she was facing away from Garrick and didn’t have to look him in the eye. “I don’t want a man in my life, not ever again. I won’t remarry, I’m not interested in romance of any kind, and I will not pretend otherwise.”

  “We’re not all like him,” Garrick said defensively. “Many men are trustworthy and gentle. Many husbands love and care for their wives in a way Jerome never did. They’re kind and solid and …”

  “You’re a drunk, just like he was.” She wanted to rise, but Garrick held her tight.

  She had hoped to make Garrick so angry he would release her, but her ploy didn’t work. “I do drink too much, I can’t argue with that. But I don’t love the bottle, and more than that I don’t need it. For the right reason, I could be persuaded to give up drinking altogether.”

  “It’s not that easy,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you how many times Jerome promised he would never drink again. If the desire for liquor is in you, it’s in you and there’s nothing to be done.”

  “I could give it up for you,” he said confidently. “I would. I suppose you think that’s tripe.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you think I would say anything, tell any lie, to get what I want?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want you,” he whispered. “Here. Next week. Next year. Forever.”

  Her heart clenched, every muscle in her body went tense. “Don’t …”

  “But I won’t lie to you about anything, Katherine. You’re too important to be won with lies and deceit.”

  “Rubbish …” She choked on the word.

  “But I will do anything else in order to get what I want. I’m horridly spoiled, you know,” he teased.

  How could he joke at a time like this?

  “There’s a problem with what I suspect you want from me.” Best to be blunt. She couldn’t allow Garrick to go on expecting things she could not give him. “If I never touch a man again, that will be fine with me. More than fine. I won’t take another man into my bed, not ever. I don’t want it.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want you.”

  “How can you say that?” he asked, apparently not at all offended.

  “Marriage offers women stability. A home they would not otherwise be able to have. Children, if they want such troublesome things about.” She stiffened her spine. “I imagine the women you’ve paid to have sex with you pretended to enjoy it,” she snapped. “But it’s not at all … I can’t imagine … I will never …”

  “You have to give me a chance,” he whispered. “Give me a chance to prove to you that things would be different for us, if you’d allow it.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve become a wonderful friend,” she admitted, her heart all but flipping over at the confession. “You’ve been good to me, especially since we came here.” And the kiss had been nice. Very nice. “But I’m not interested in anything else.”

  He sighed. “Too bad.”

  The candle flickered again, and then it went out as if someone had extinguished it with a gentle breath. A trill of soft laughter filled the air, and Garrick gathered her closer against him.

  It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the new darkness. Was it her imagination, or was the room alive with ghosts? Shadows danced and fell, cold wind out of nowhere, the same wind that had snuffed out the candle, brushed across her face.

  “Do you have more matches with you?” she asked.

  “No. The few matches we gathered are in the lobby. I was going to start the stove with the flame from the candle, but we never got that far.”

  It didn’t matter, not really. There wasn’t much left of that extinguished candle.

  Something to her right moved, a darker shadow in a shadowy corner.

  “Look at me,” Garrick said sharply. Obviously he saw the ghosts, too.

  Katherine twisted to the side and wrapped her arms around Garrick’s neck. She kept her eyes on his face, even though she could not see his features well enough to suit her. The window in this room was small, and did not allow much moonlight to find its way in. “We have to try not to be scared,” she whispered. “That’s what they said.”

  “We’ll talk of other things,” Garrick said.

  What other things? Oh, there was no safe subject, not that she could think of at the moment. “I’m beginning to like Daisy’s idea of a pie society. If we get out of here, I don’t want to so much as speak of ghosts again!”

  “When,”Garrick said. “When we get out.”

  She wasn’t so sure. “All right. When we get out of here, we’ll disband the Plummerville Ghost Society and form a pie society instead.” She sighed. “That is the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard.”

  “Forget Plummerville,” Garrick whispered. “Come west with me.”

  “What? I have a home, I’m quite comfortable …”

  “Forget being comfortable. Life isn’t comfortable, Katherine. It’s hard and unpredictable, and if you don’t grab what you want when you have the chance it’s gone.” His voice was tense, not angry but disappointed, perhaps. “Leave the ghost of Jerome and your house and your quiet life behind and come with me.”

  It sounded like a fine plan. Too fine. Such a life wasn’t meant for her. “Why should I?”

  In answer, he kissed her. Softly, but with a quiet demand.

  Katherine pulled her mouth from his. “I told you, I don’t want …”

  “You don’t know what you want.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but no words left her mouth. Garrick was right. She knew what she didn’t want, but she had no idea what would make her happy again. She had been happy once, hadn’t she? She hadn’t always been scornful about people and life.

  So she kissed him. That, at least, was pleasant. And distracting. She dismissed the ghosts, the knowledge that they were never getting out of this kitchen, and most of all she dismissed her fear.

  She held onto Garrick, and he held her. Their mouths were locked together, their hearts pounded together, and in the midst of a horrible experience they made something beautiful happen.

  Yes, the kiss that went on and on was beautiful. Having Garrick hold her was beautiful. Beauty in the midst of horror. Maybe it was the horror that made this kiss so bright and wonderful.

  She had never dreamed that kissing could be so powerful.

  Garrick let one of his large hands slip up her side, slowly stroking the silk. He hesitated before cupping her breast in his hand. His fingers moved against the giving flesh, unexpectedly arousing. A chill shot through her body, and this chill had nothing to do with the cold of the winter night.

  No one had ever touched her there, not with gentleness. Not with tender, stroking fingertips. Garrick continued to caress her. One finger brushed over her nipple, and unexpected sensations shot through her entire body. She almost whispered, “Again, please,” but held her tongue. Garrick didn’t need to be instructed. He touched her that way again, without being asked.

  She knew she should tell Garrick to stop. She should primly order him to return his hand to her back and be satisfied with just a kiss. But she didn’t. His caress stirred her in a way she had thought impossible.

  “Garrick,” she whispered, her lips lightly touching his. He mumbled an incoherent response. “We can kiss. I’ll let you … touch me. But that’s all. Nothing else.”

  “If that’s what you want,” he murmured.

  “And if we get out of here …”

  “When,” he interrupted.

  She didn’t argue with him. Not this time. “When we get out of here, you’re going west and I’m staying in Plummerville, where I belong.”

  He flicked his tongue against her lower lip. “We’ll see about that.”

  Thirteen

  Lucien opened his eyes as if from a long sleep. His mind was
foggy, and for a moment he didn’t know who or where he was. Eve paced beside the bed, restless and tense, her full white skirt rustling loudly, her hair tumbling down her back. He tried to reach for her, and when he discovered that he couldn’t, he remembered everything.

  “Evie,” he said, finding his voice didn’t come to him easily.

  She spun around. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up!”

  “It’s me,” he said. He gave her a smile. “I think holding the doors closed and trying to direct the other spirits in the house while he’s in this protected room has weakened Scrydan. He’s still here, but he’s gone quiet.”

  Eve stared down at him. “I’ve had enough of your tricks.” Her eyes narrowed. “You lie, you confuse.” She studied him closely. “If you’re Lucien, then how do you know about him holding the doors closed?”

  “I just know,” he said. “He’s with me, now. It’s like when Alistair Stamper spoke through me and I remembered bits and pieces of his past as if they were my own.”

  “How do I know you’re not just … just drawing information from Lucien’s mind in an attempt to deceive me?”

  “I guess you don’t.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Evie,” he said as she turned and started to walk away. “I don’t know how much time I have. He could come back at any moment, and I can’t fight him much longer.”

  She spun around to face him defiantly, wild and angry. “I should untie you, I suppose, so you can …”

  “No!” he snapped. “Don’t you dare let me go.”

  Her face softened, and two tears ran down her cheeks. Her fingers trembled, and her legs were not as steady as she would have him think. She was barely holding herself together.

  “I want to believe it’s you, I really do, but …”

  “Just listen.” He hated her tears. He wanted to wipe them away. He wanted to hold her. But there was no time for either.

  “There is one spirit in this house capable of defeating Scrydan, with Lionel’s assistance.”

  “Lionel’s gone.”

  Lucien shook his head. “It was not coincidence that Lionel was outside the hotel when the doors closed and locked.”

  Eve sat on the side of the bed and reached out to touch his face. “Lucien, I want to believe it’s you …”

  “Believe.”

  He could see by the expression on Eve’s tired face that she still had reservations. She was rightfully suspicious.

  “Listen carefully,” he said softly. “There was a witch. Her name was Melissa.”

  “A witch named Melissa,” Eve said skeptically.

  “Melissa’s younger sister died here, committed suicide, so she came to investigate.”

  “And found Scrydan.”

  “Yes. She got a job as a housekeeper, when the place was a fancy hotel, and with her powers it didn’t take her long to discover what was happening.”

  “Why didn’t Scrydan just kill her?”

  “He did, eventually.” Lucien shook off the memory of the horrible way Melissa had died. He saw it as if he had been there, tasted her fear and felt Scrydan’s joy. He pushed deep the memories that were not his own. He tried to hide them away. “But Melissa had a protective spell that kept Scrydan from her for a while. She tried to cast these spells on the rooms, which is why some are more active than others. This room was where she cast her most successful spell, which is why it’s so quiet.”

  “What’s the spell?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m hoping that with the witch’s name and the little bit of knowledge I was able to glean from Scrydan, Lionel will be able to reproduce the spell on a grander scale that will actually trap the evil spirit so he won’t be able to do any more harm.”

  “Can Lionel accomplish this?”

  He nodded his head. “I believe so. He has the power, and he’s had experience with casting spells.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  There was a lot Eve didn’t know, about him, about the others. He had always tried his best to protect her, when she was his colleague, his friend, his fiancée.

  “Scrydan’s been blocking her from Lionel, but he’s spread himself too thin.” Lucien wrinkled his nose. It itched. Of course it itched! He couldn’t scratch his nose or anything else. He did his best to dismiss the discomfort. “Keeping a hold on me and trying to control the house and the spirits in it as well … he doesn’t have the strength to do it all, and he won’t, as long as the others remain calm.” From the little bit he could see, through Scrydan, the others were doing fine. Hugh was not in good shape, but he’d be all right. If they got him out of here in time.

  “What if Lionel doesn’t make it back?”

  “He will.”

  Eve turned away, as if she couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.

  “Evie?” he said, when she took a step away from the bed. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you’re stuck here, sorry that I ruined everything. I wanted our wedding to be perfect. I wanted …”

  “No, you didn’t,” she said softly. “I don’t think you cared if we were married or not. You would have been just as happy to have the justice of the peace marry us in the middle of the street. I was the one who wanted the perfect wedding. You didn’t care.”

  “I did.”

  “Then why did you come here?” She turned to him, and he saw the tears on her face. That’s why she had turned away. She didn’t want him to see her cry. More tears fell as he watched. “You should’ve stayed in Plummerville instead of running away.”

  “I didn’t run,” he insisted.

  “Well, what do you call it?”

  Maybe she was right and he had been running, the way he’d been running from one thing or another all his life. He’d run from his power to see into the world of the dead, when it had been hard to understand and more of a curse than a gift. He’d been running ever since, or had been until he’d met Evie. “I love you.”

  “It’s not enough this time,” she whispered. “You can’t just tell me you love me and expect everything to be all right! You came here on a whim, and now we’re all going to die. Both of us and most of our friends are going to die because you came here alone when you should’ve been getting married.”

  She was right. He had unknowingly led them all into this trap. “Give the information to Lionel, when he arrives.”

  “If he makes it at all, it’ll be morning at the earliest. We could all be dead by then.”

  “Have faith, Evie.”

  She shook her head. “It’s too late for that. Much too late.”

  O’Hara dropped his hand, and Daisy let her fingers trail over his palm. He had been right all along. She did have a good heart, and when she loved she did it well. Too well.

  “There’s no need to be afraid.”

  “Of course there is,” she said sensibly.

  “I’m not talking about the hotel and the ghosts.”

  “Neither am I.” Daisy licked her lips, stared up at him wide-eyed. “Do you hate me?” she asked softly.

  “Of course not.” He reached out to touch her cheek, and she didn’t flinch. There was no need. He had seen what she’d tried to hide for so long. It was as if she’d pushed the knowledge at him, as if she needed him to know. As if she needed someone to know.

  “No man will ever love me enough to forgive what I’ve done.”

  Daisy was so fragile, and still so strong. Like most people, she was much more complicated than he’d initially suspected. “You made a mistake a very long time ago. Any man worthy of you will understand that.” He stroked her cheek. “You only need to forgive yourself.”

  “I loved him,” she whispered. “At least, I thought I did.”

  “You were very young.”

  “Seventeen.”

  “And he tricked you.” If ever he’d wanted to kill someone, it was the man who had seduced an innocent girl and broken her heart.

  “He said he was taking me to a preacher in another town so we could get
married before my father could stop us.” She didn’t cry, her voice didn’t tremble. “Then we lost our way and came upon this little deserted cabin, and it seemed like a good enough place to spend the night.” Her hands began to tremble, and he caught them in his. “And he said we were as good as man and wife,” she whispered, “so …” her voice trailed off.

  “That’s no good reason for you to give up on love and marriage.” He hated to think of her being alone, when she should be surrounded by her own family. A husband. Children. She wanted and deserved it all. “You’ve been hiding long enough, Daisy. Let it go. Release all that old pain.”

  “How can I ever marry a man without telling him what happened?” her voice was small, uncertain. “A husband would expect … certain things.”

  A husband would expect a virgin in his marriage bed, that’s what she would not say aloud. That’s the fear he’d caught when he held her hand. “Any man worthy will dismiss all your worries. He will love you, and cherish you, and thank his lucky stars every day that you love him.” He lifted her soft, tender hands and kissed them, one and then the other.

  He didn’t want to release her hands, not ever. They were such feminine hands, gentle and quiet, unlike his own. They were just hands, made for touching, for holding and caressing. He adored her hands, so he kissed them again.

  “When I got up the next morning, he was gone,” she whispered.

  “I know.”

  “A couple of months later I found out I was going to have a baby,” her voice faded to almost nothing.

  His heart broke for her. “I saw that, too.”

  “I cried so hard when I found out,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I cried for days and days. That’s why I miscarried. It was all my fault.” She sniffled softly. “I killed my own baby, and no one ever knew. Not the baby’s father. Not my parents.”

  “You did not kill your baby,” O’Hara insisted. “Put that thought out of your head forever.”

  “How can I know for sure?”

  “You know because I tell you so.” He pulled her close and placed his hand on the back of her head as he held her tight. “What happened to him? The bastard who did this to you. I didn’t see that.”