by Linda Fallon
“He moved away. I saw him in town a couple of times before he left Plummerville, and he laughed at me.” She shuddered down the length of her body. “I wouldn’t let him see that I hurt inside. It was just a game to him. I was just a game.”
Daisy was so tiny! He hadn’t truly realized that before, but as she burrowed against him it hit him.
She was fragile and petite, with gentle curves and delicate bones. She had no business fighting ghosts or hiding her battered heart. Daisy should have a loving husband, a nice home, a couple of beautiful children to take care of This was the kind of woman a man cherished.
Most women who knew of his abilities stayed well clear of him. They didn’t want to be involved with a man who could touch them and know their darkest secrets, their most profound desires. And those who didn’t know of his gift … there were so many he had touched and been repelled by. So many who cared only for themselves, or for what a man could give them. There were too many hearts touched with selfishness and hate. That’s why it had hurt him so to see Eve hurting, after Lucien had left her at the altar. There were too few truly exceptional women in the world. Eve Abernathy was one of them.
So was Daisy Willard.
“You’re exhausted,” he said softly.
Daisy nodded her head.
“We might very well be here all night.”
She trembled gently.
“Why don’t you lie down and rest.”
She tilted her head back and looked up at him, studying him closely. She wondered if he would try to seduce her, now that he knew she was not a virgin.
“No, I will not,” he said without waiting for her to say a single word aloud. “I’m not nearly as wicked as my reputation would have you believe.”
“Good.” She glanced at the bed. “But I don’t think I could lie on that mattress. If Scrydan is in the hotel and the furnishings, is he in the mattress on that bed? Besides, we don’t know what happened in that bed. People died there. And … other things.”
Yes, people had died there. They’d seen that fact too clearly tonight, as the ghosts had replayed their deaths. “I have an idea.” Holding her hand, he led her to the window. A chair had been placed there, long ago, and it caught the moonlight now. He pulled it away from the wall, sat down, and waited for Daisy to follow. “Sit,” he finally said.
“On your lap?”
“Why not?”
“It’s … unseemly.”
“Are you going to stand on your tiptoes all night?”
She sighed and sat, perching stiffly on his knee. “Maybe just for a little while. I need to rest my feet.”
“Yes, you do.”
It was nice, to have her there so close. To have her touch him without fear. It took only a few moments for her to relax, in a subtle way. She did not lean back against him, and most likely would not. Not tonight. But she was comfortable here. That alone was amazing.
She stared out the window, moonlight on her beautiful face. “It’s not fair, you know,” she said softly.
“What’s not fair?”
“You can see into me, and yet I see nothing of you.”
“There’s not much to see.”
“I doubt that.” She relaxed a little. “I believe you are a very interesting man.”
“I’m very simple, actually.” He ran his hand up her spine. Ah, she was still a little bit afraid that he’d try to seduce her, and she wasn’t sure if she liked the idea or not. “I’m a simple man with simple needs.”
She squirmed on his lap. “You don’t seem at all simple.”
“I need the same things any man needs. A good meal, a warm fire, and a beautiful woman sitting on my lap. What else can a man ask for?”
“How about a ghost-free place to spend the night,” she suggested.
“Can’t have everything.”
Daisy didn’t seem to mind that he touched her with his hands, even though she knew what he could do.
She didn’t have to worry about his trying to seduce her. After everything she’d been through, she deserved better. He knew that not because he’d touched her, but because she’d touched him, deep inside. Daisy Willard deserved a man who would court her, adore her, and seduce her well and good on their wedding night.
It crossed his mind, briefly, that he might be that very man.
Katherine didn’t know how long she and Garrick had been kissing in the dark. A long time, but not long enough.
There was no fire in this dark kitchen, and yet she wasn’t chilled. Not at all. She was hot, as if her blood was heated and rushing too fast through her body.
While they kissed, he touched her constantly. He caressed her face and her neck, he fondled her breasts through black silk until she leaned into him, silently asking for more. And while he caressed her, she touched him. She trailed her fingers over his stubbly jaw, and touched his neck, and laid her hand over his heart.
She was almost thirty years old, and she’d never been kissed like this. Was it being trapped in this hotel that made her feel hungry for this kind of touch? Was it the fear that she might not live until morning? At the moment she didn’t care why she felt this way. She liked it.
Garrick groaned, his mouth against hers, one hand at her back, the other over one breast. His fingers trailed over the peaked nipple, once and then again, and a shudder of pleasure worked its way through Katherine’s body.
“I want to touch you,” he whispered.
“You are touching me,” she answered, her lips barely leaving his.
“I want more. I want to touch you, Katherine. I want my hand on your bare flesh.” He kissed her hard, flicked his tongue into her mouth, and then drew away slightly. “If you don’t want me to touch you just say so and I won’t mention it again.”
This was exactly the kind of touch she had been determined to live without. And yet … she wanted it. She craved it. The very thought made her heart beat fast. “All right.”
She began to unbutton her bodice, but Garrick placed his hand over hers and stopped her. “Let me.”
He kissed her while he very slowly unfastened the tiny buttons that ran from her neck to her waist. There was fever in his movements, and yet he didn’t rush. When his fingers brushed against her skin as he accomplished the chore, she felt that caress to her very bones.
Every button that came loose set her free, in a new and miraculous way. Cool air on hot skin was as sensual as the way his mouth moved over hers.
When her bodice was unbuttoned to the waist, Garrick slipped his hand inside and cupped her breast. That hand was so warm and gentle, so … so right. She had never been this close to another human being, not in her entire life. It was as if she breathed Garrick in with every breath. He stroked his thumb over her rigid nipple, and she felt that touch so intensely she shuddered and almost came apart.
They continued to kiss, while Garrick caressed her breasts. Sensations she had never known assaulted her. There was so much pleasure here, in a touch, in a kiss. Gradually and surely, something unknown grew inside Katherine. It started at the center of her being and grew outward, like a smoldering fire. This new something grew quickly, spiraling out of control.
She wanted him. Her clothes and his were in the way. She couldn’t get near enough to him, no matter how she twisted and turned. Never had she craved a man’s touch, and yet she craved Garrick. She needed him.
Her lips parted wider than before, and his tongue danced with hers while his fingers aroused and surprised her. An involuntary moan came up from her throat, a hoarse and urgent cry.
“Katherine,” Garrick whispered. “If we’re going to stop, we need to stop now.”
She knew what he was saying. The growing need, the gnawing hunger, it was not what she’d expected from this encounter. The kissing had been pleasant, but they were far past pleasant at this moment.
She wanted more, and so did Garrick. Unbelievably, she didn’t want this moment, this coming together, to end.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered
.
“Do you know what you’re …”
“Don’t stop,” she said again.
The hand that had been caressing her breasts dropped lower, to brush against her belly, against her thigh. Garrick lifted her skirt and his hand began to climb. His hand was on her leg, accompanied by the rustle of her rising skirt and the way they both breathed fast and hard.
Her thighs fell apart, and for the first time since they’d begun she felt a rush of alarm. Right now everything was beautiful, but as they continued it would become less beautiful. It would be rough and hurtful, and in the end she would only feel pain.
But something hopeful inside her whispered that this would be different. Garrick was a different man, and tonight she had become a different woman.
When he touched her intimately, slipping his hand through the part in her drawers, she forgot all about her fear. She was wet, hot and empty, and Garrick stroked and aroused her as the fever grew.
Shimmers of pleasure shot through her body, and she quivered. She ached and she yearned, and both were new sensations for her, just as the kissing and the caressing were new.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered as she rocked against his hand.
“I’m loving you,” he answered, his mouth over hers, his hands doing unexpected and wonderful things to her until she thought she would shatter. She couldn’t help but move her hips in time with the stroke of his hand.
Soon there was nothing else in the world but the two of them and the need to have Garrick inside her. Katherine unbuttoned his trousers and freed his erection. Without a moment’s uncertainty, she wrapped her fingers around his arousal. He was long and hard and hot, and he moaned when she stroked his length once.
With his help she twisted on his lap until she straddled him. For a moment she hesitated. How had this happened to her? What was she doing here? She dismissed the momentary doubts and lifted herself up, and Garrick guided his erection into her.
There was no pain and no regret, as he slowly entered her. As her body accepted his, there was only pleasure and love. She had given up on both long ago, and yet here they were, discovered in the most unlikely place and time.
Garrick was inside her, deep and thick, stretching her and filling her and bringing her closer to something new and wondrous. She moved against him, riding him at a slow and easy pace. Every move was gentle and yet breathtaking. She rode him gracefully, finding a rhythm that satisfied them both. To have him inside her, her body and his on the edge of something wondrous, was a true miracle. While she undulated gently, he caressed her breasts and kissed her neck. She wanted this to last all night, but her need for more grew with every stroke. Soon she was moving faster and faster, taking him deeper, craving more. He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her with a passion she tasted and answered.
It was so dark, even with Garrick’s face close to hers, she saw nothing of his features. She could not see, but every other sense was in working order. The scent of their bodies coming together, the taste of his lips, the sound of his sighs and hers mingling. And most of all, there was the sensation of touch.
Katherine cried out when the intense pleasure of completion hit her, taking her by surprise. She was overcome in so many ways. Physically and emotionally, Garrick captured her. Her body thrummed and throbbed, her hands shook, and with one last thrust Garrick found his own release.
He moaned, clutched her body close and tight while he shuddered around and inside her. What had been frantic became slow. Easy. Katherine felt a boneless sensation sweep through her body.
Breathless and sated, she rested her head on Garrick’s shoulder and closed her eyes. He remained inside her, a part of her, and she didn’t want to let him go. Not yet.
He stroked her hair and kissed her temple. “Not the most romantic circumstance for our first time,” he teased, “but you won’t catch me complaining.”
“Me, either.” She smiled. “I never … when I was married we didn’t …”
He grabbed her chin and made her look at him. “No more talk about the past, not for either of us. If we get out of here, we’re going to start over. We’re going to burn your damned black dresses, dress you in yellow and blue and emerald green, and head out for some place where there are no memories except the ones we make.”
“When,” she whispered.
“What?”
She kissed his lips with a gentleness she had just discovered. “When we get out of here.”
Fourteen
The scratching at the door startled Eve so that she almost jumped out of her skin. Lucien slept once again. It was as if he didn’t have the strength to stay awake for long. But when Lucien slept, was Scrydan stronger elsewhere in the hotel?
The scratching noise came again, only this time it was accompanied by a hoarsely whispered, “Eve. Eve, are you all right?”
Eve dropped to her knees beside the door. “Hugh?” Tears came to her eyes. It might be a cruel trick, one of Scrydan’s tortures. When Hugh had gone silent before, she’d allowed herself to believe the worst. “It’s so good to hear your voice again. I thought you were …” Her heart leapt into her throat. “I thought you were unconscious.” She didn’t want to tell him that she’d believed him to be dead.
“I fell down the stairs,” he said. She heard his body shift, as if he leaned against the door. “It’s dark out here. Let me in.”
“I can’t. Scrydan’s holding all the doors closed, remember?”
He sighed and shifted again. “Is anyone alone?”
“I don’t think so. Daisy and O’Hara are upstairs, and Garrick and Katherine are in the kitchen.”
“That’s good. It’ll make it harder for the spirits to frighten them. They must stay together, they must stay strong.”
Hugh himself was alone, but he was familiar with the workings of such a place. He could fight what he might see in that dark hallway better than anyone but Lionel.
“How badly are you hurt?”
“I’m not sure. My head hurts, and I think it’s bleeding. I feel … sticky. And my shoulder hurts. I twisted something when I fell.”
“Scrydan can’t hold these doors closed forever,” she said, not very convincingly. “We’ll all be free soon.”
Hugh said nothing for a long while, and then he whispered a few low words she could not decipher. A moment later he said, more loudly, “Jane? Is that you?” He called out to his long-dead wife, the woman he had adored and lost. Scrydan had known Hugh blamed himself for Jane’s death, so long ago. She knew he didn’t mind using that guilt and sorrow against a perfectly helpless and lovable man. It was so unfair!
Eve stood and grabbed the doorknob, and once again she fought. She tugged and kicked at the immovable door. “Let me out of here, you bastard!” Scrydan was torturing Hugh. Was he also torturing the others? He knew their fears, their weaknesses. It wasn’t right that he could control them all this way.
She stopped struggling with the door and turned to face a sleeping Lucien. Arms and legs spread, tied to the bed so that he could barely move, he looked helpless. But he wasn’t. Whatever was inside Lucien was holding the doors closed. That thing was torturing Hugh. If she wanted the doors to open, she needed to be fighting Scrydan, not an immovable door.
It didn’t matter that she was angry with Lucien, that she wasn’t sure they’d ever get married, that in her heart she knew she would never come first in his life. She did love him. And at the moment, Scrydan wore his face. This was not going to be easy.
She leaned over the bed and tapped Lucien lightly across the cheek. “Wake up,” she commanded. He slept on. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, and she slapped him again, harder. Again, he seemed unaffected.
In the hallway, Hugh began to sob.
Eve climbed onto the bed and straddled Lucien so that she was directly above him. The skirt of her ruined wedding gown spread around them, her loosened hair fell across her face. Firelight flickered across Lucien’s cheeks and his mussed hair as she gathered h
er strength, drew her arm back, and hit him with her fist. Hard.
His eyes fluttered and opened slowly, and he lifted his head to meet her glare. It wasn’t Lucien, she knew immediately. It was Scrydan, and he smiled.
“Ah, lover, I know what you want when I wake to find you atop me this way.”
She hit him again, so hard his head snapped to the side. “Open the doors,” she commanded.
He laughed at her. “Do you really think it’s that easy?”
She hauled off and hit him again, tears building in her eyes. It’s not Lucien, she told herself as his head snapped back again. It’s not really Lucien. “I don’t think you’re as strong as you’d like me to believe, Scrydan. I think it’s all an act. You’re weak. This room makes you weak. My love for Lucien makes you weak. Our love for our friends confuses you and makes you weak.” She hit him again, and his smile finally faded.
“If I’m so weak, then why are you trapped here? Why are your friends trapped?”
“It’s all you can do,” she whispered. “You’re not all-powerful. You control this hotel, you catch lonely spirits, but you’re not so strong that I can’t beat you.”
“You’re a child,” he whispered, giving her a crooked smile.
“The only reason you can remain in Lucien is because he has the power to accept you. Without him, you’re nothing.” She hit him again.
“If that’s true, then all you have to do in order to save your friends is kill Lucien.” He leaned toward her, as far as possible given his bound state. “But you won’t do that, will you?”
“You’re not Lucien,” she whispered. “You look like Lucien, but …”
“I smell like him, too, don’t I?” he interrupted. “And the voice is the same, Evie, isn’t it? Do you want me to tell you that I love you? Would those words whispered in this voice make you feel better?”
“You’re not …”
“I am. If you laid those luscious lips on my skin I would taste like him.” He flicked his tongue at her. “If you’ll untie me, I’ll plow you again and you’ll see that I take my women exactly like he did.” He rocked his hips up against her. “You don’t have to untie me for such a test, but I promise you, you won’t regret …”