Raging Spirits

by Angel Smits

  Finally he spoke. “She died three years ago.” The grief was strong in his voice. “She had cancer. It went so fast. I couldn’t do anything to save her.”

  “You believe her spirit is here?” She spoke softly, afraid to shatter the fragile confidences. He simply nodded.

  He believed Rachel was here. But was she? Really?

  Moving away from him, Clarissa cleared her mind of his emotions and her own reactions to him. She’d told him she couldn’t force the visions, but Granny Cleary had been able to seek them out, maybe Clarissa could, too. She closed her eyes and opened herself to the possibilities as she’d seen Granny do.

  Wandering through the room, she touched objects, feeling nothing but texture and shape, warm or cool.

  Had she sensed anything else in the house? Running her thoughts back, she stepped out into the hallway. The vertigo she’d experienced earlier was still there, and the undercurrents grew stronger and more intense as she stood here.

  “David?”

  He joined her, coming to stand a few inches away from her. Suddenly, a breeze whipped in through the front door. The chandelier tinkled again, sounding like the notes of the music box. Just as quickly as it had begun, the air stilled.

  Clarissa closed her eyes, and the image of a woman came into her mind. The woman was shadowy, her features vague. Her arms were raised, palms out in front of her as she moved closer.

  As Clarissa watched the woman, her image grew clearer. Her dark auburn hair fluttered as she moved. The smooth, aristocratic features would have been beautiful, if they hadn’t been contorted with malice and pain.

  Wanting to help the woman, Clarissa reached out, but before she could communicate with her, the woman rushed forward. The impact of her force caused Clarissa to stumble back.

  “David!” Clarissa cried, her voice mingling with the woman’s sobs. She opened her eyes just in time to see the brass banister. She was falling over it and toward the hard, cold marble tile.

  Head over heels she tumbled, her screams echoing through the foyer. Thankfully, darkness reached out to buffer her. She never felt the impact she knew would break every bone in her body.

  Seven

  WARM, SWEET leather pillowed her head, mingling with the scent of spicy aftershave. Vaguely, she heard rain beating on the outside of the car. Clarissa’s eyelids felt heavy, and she didn’t fight the comforting drowsiness holding her in its grip. Safety and warmth. She clung to them.

  “Clarissa.” David’s voice invaded the cocoon she hovered in, pulling at her senses and forcing her to rouse to near consciousness. “Clarissa?”

  Fighting the desire to sleep, she forced her eyes open. She saw nothing but darkness, just as she had seen behind her closed lids. After an instant the darkness changed. She saw the faint silhouette of David’s head. As she continued to search within the shadows for a clearer image, her eyes adjusted and she saw David’s face only a few inches away from hers.

  “David? Wh . . . what happened?” As she tried to move, every muscle in her body protested. A low groan slipped from between her lips. She’d fallen, hadn’t she? Her memory was vague.

  “You fainted.” Concern thickened his voice, and suddenly she felt his arms around her. That explained the warmth. Was that also why she felt safe?

  Suddenly regaining her strength and memory, she struggled against him. How could she feel safe in the arms of the man who’d put her at such risk? He let her slip away, and while she tasted the sweetness of freedom, she immediately missed the comfort of his embrace.

  “Where is she?” Clarissa gazed out the car window at the mansion.

  “She?” David turned abruptly in his seat, spearing her with an intense gaze.

  “The woman who pushed me.”

  “Pushed you?”

  “Yes. I was standing there, and suddenly she came out of nowhere and pushed me over the banister.” Clarissa moved carefully, testing each bone and muscle and finding nothing but a dull achiness. She’d lived through that horrid fall.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You were standing there on the landing, looking at me. You screamed and an instant later you crumpled to the floor. That scream’s going to stick in my head for a long time.”

  David turned away, his fingers curling around the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white enough for her to see them in the faint light. “What did she look like?” The tightness gripped his voice.

  “Auburn hair, about to here.” Clarissa touched her own shoulder with a trembling finger. “She was dressed in white, I think, and her face—she was in pain. The poor thing.”

  “Rachel.” The single word spoke volumes. It held recognition of his wife and the emotions he still felt for her. Clarissa detected love, pity and anger all rolled together. A twinge of envy stung her heart.

  “Do you have a picture of her? Then I could tell for sure.”

  “In there.” He indicated the house with a tilt of his head. “But I’m not going back in tonight.” Without warning, he twisted the key in the ignition and sped down the driveway, leaving a spray of damp gravel in their wake as the tires ground the pavement.

  Every light in the house still blazed.

  FOR NEARLY AN hour they drove around the city. Familiar sights gave way to unfamiliar, and Clarissa wondered where David was taking her. She wasn’t afraid exactly, but exhaustion took its toll. His emotions, which she now felt inside herself, were jumbled. But despite the confusion, she felt oddly safe.

  When he pulled up in front of Dove’s Place, she wasn’t even surprised. The small diner was his haven, and while she was tired and longed to go home to bed, she recognized his need for company. She didn’t bother analyzing why that need made her glow inside.

  “Care for a cup of coffee you don’t have to fix yourself?” David’s words were warm, but that warmth didn’t reach his eyes. She nodded and climbed out of the car. The same neon fizzle filled the air, and the fluttering blue light pooled around them. She wondered vaguely how long the sign had been broken and if the owner ever planned to fix it.

  Inside the diner, the air hung heavy and a new waitress worked behind the counter. Linda had resigned, she explained. Clarissa made a mental note to get in touch with Linda tomorrow. Maybe she could find a place for her at the coffee shop.

  “She’s in your head,” David said after they were seated, and they both knew he didn’t mean Linda. His words echoed through the small diner and into Clarissa’s soul.

  “What do you mean she’s in my head?” Clarissa asked, a shiver crawling up her spine. Did she really want to know the answer?

  “She’s in yours just like she’s been in mine for months. She’s why I can’t sleep, why I can barely function.” He hadn’t yet sipped his coffee, and now he took a hefty gulp. He frowned, as if needing more than caffeine could give him. “Do you know anything about this type of thing?”

  Clarissa needed and wanted to offer him solace for his loss, for all the pain he’d experienced in his life. She reached across the scarred tabletop, covering his strong hand with her own smaller one. His skin felt warm and rough as he turned his hand to twine his fingers between hers.

  “She doesn’t have any connection with me,” she said. “I think I’m picking up on your emotions and the connection she has with you. I’ll be fine, but what about you?”

  “I’m a big boy,” he teased, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “So what now?”

  He wanted reassurance, and she tried to give him some. “Just like anything else, I believe there are answers. We have to work to find them. There’s some research I’d like to do.”

  “Research? Can I help?”

  He needed to help, needed to help himself. Clarissa saw that need painted all over his handsome face. “Yes, but let’s try to get some rest tonight and tackle it tomorrow. I’m not used to runni
ng on so few hours of sleep.”

  Grit filled her eyes, and the weights on her eyelids returned. Nodding, he paid the bill and escorted her out to the car. In only a few minutes, she stood at her own front door. The familiarity of home wrapped around her heart.

  David stood nearby in the shadows as she unlocked her door. His tall frame dwarfed her and made her think of the days when a boy had walked her home from a date. This time, though, her father wasn’t standing on the other side of the door, waiting.

  “Good night. I’ll take you to your car in the morning.” He turned to leave.

  “That’s fine. Not too early, though. I’m sleeping in. Lindsey’s opening the shop.”

  He stood looking at her for a long minute, and then he moved to the steps. She took a step forward. “David?” He stopped a step below her, and she found their eyes level.

  Only inches separated them, and a knowing tingle formed on her lips. Should she? As if an invisible silken thread wrapped around her and tugged her toward him, she leaned that last little distance. Their lips met. He didn’t pull away and she leaned even closer. Telling him more clearly than she ever could with words what she felt growing between them.

  He was strong and sweet against her. His arms slid around her, pulling her to the edge of the step, where she leaned against him. Her arms fit perfectly across his shoulders and around his neck. They were both reluctant to move away.

  “I told you to get away while you could.” He gently pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

  “I don’t do what I’m told very often.”

  He laughed, then winced as if in pain.

  “Are you okay?” She touched his face.

  “Yeah.” He set her firmly on her feet and hastily moved down the steps away from her.

  “Good night, David.” She backed up to her door, turning only when she felt the solidness behind her. Pushing it open, she cast him one last wistful glance before disappearing.

  She was tired. More than tired. She was bone weary. The sheets on the bed invited her. Her pillow called to her like a mirage to a desert traveler.

  Stripping off her clothes, she didn’t bother with a nightgown. That would have taken the effort of going to the closet, which was beyond her capacity right now.

  The night claimed her quickly, and she sighed in complete surrender as the pillow hugged her head, cradling her in sweet slumber. For awhile, at least, she could leave the world and problems of David Lorde far behind.

  If only it were that simple. Some small part of her wouldn’t leave him alone. The compulsion to help him was strong.

  David was a part of her, just as the other visions had become ingrained in her psyche. And when Clarissa found herself gazing up at his dream image, she wasn’t afraid.

  There was something different about him now, here in the confines of her mind. For several long moments, she stared up at him as he stood there beside her bed. He shouldn’t be here. She didn’t remember leaving the door open, but a shiver of excitement that he was here crept over her.

  How handsome he looked in the moonlight filtering through the open window. The breeze was cool, but it did little to ease the heat inside her body.

  He wore no shirt, and in the dim light, Clarissa saw the rigid outline of each muscle on his chest and smooth, flat stomach. She could see the bulge in his upper arms and realized he clenched his fists, making the tendons in his forearms tense and push tight against his skin.

  The thick mane of his hair hung loose about his face and shoulders. At work and during the day, he pulled it back, but she liked it better this way. She thought perhaps it was more like the true David. Wild and free.

  Her fingers ached to touch the thick strands, to weave them around her fingers. She wanted to bind him to her.

  And then it hit her. It was his eyes. They were the difference. The pain, the anger, the burning remorse were still there, but dimmed, dimmed so that she had to search for them. Instead, she saw a passion for living, a warmth and excitement for experience—and desire for her.

  With careful movements, she rose on the mattress to kneel before him. Their eyes were nearly level, just like on the step, and while hot desire melted her, he looked as rigid as newly forged steel. If it hadn’t been for the fire in his eyes, she’d have doubted his desire.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes breaking loose from gazing into hers and glanced over the rest of her body.

  Too late Clarissa remembered she wore nothing. A warm flush moved quickly over her skin, but she didn’t try to hide herself. His gaze sent shock waves coursing through her. He couldn’t have affected her more if his hands had actually done the caressing.

  “Why are you here?” he whispered, his eyes meeting hers again.

  “I live here.”

  David’s eyebrow arched upward. “Since when?”

  Taking a moment to tear her gaze away from his, Clarissa looked around and realized she was no longer in her room. A shudder of surprise shot through her. Where was she, and how had she gotten here?

  He read her questioning gaze and a smile tugged at his lips. “We’re in Lorde Manor.”

  “I don’t remember this room.” The room was less austere than the rest of the house, though the four poster bed, carved highboy, and velvet drapes were no less expensive than the rest she’d seen.

  “I didn’t show you. This used to be my room.”

  David’s room. The room he’d grown up in. The room he’d spent his teenage years in. The room he’d taken Rachel to as his bride?

  Foolish pride sent Clarissa climbing off the bed. She didn’t want to share a bed with him here, not with Rachel’s memory near. Not with the possibility her spirit could be watching.

  He must have sensed her reaction. Before she could move away, his strong hand shot out to close around her arm. She felt small as his long fingers completely closed around her wrist. His strength was greater than hers. His hands could probably snap a bone with little effort.

  “Don’t run away.” Was that pleading in his voice? “Don’t leave me now.” He turned to face her and loosened his hold. He gently gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I need you. I need your beauty, your strength, your understanding.”

  There was that word. Need. It had always been the key to her heart. Her need to be needed was as strong as ever. Tentatively, she reached out to touch his chin. She wasn’t disappointed to feel the roughness against the tender pads of her fingers.

  She couldn’t stop there. She cupped his jaw, feeling the roughness against her palm and the smoothness of his cheekbone against her thumb. He was a contradiction in texture as well as emotion.

  His fingers moved slowly, enticingly, over her bare shoulders. His thumbs moved in circles that were an ancient rhythm, an echo of her heartbeat. Her pulse quickened, shoving the desire through her veins until it reached every inch of her body. She longed for him to quench the fire, even while he stoked the inferno.

  How many times in the past few days had she thought about the taste of his lips? Now she knew what could be. The same knowledge stared back at her. As his head moved closer, she knew she was going to find more than a gentle kiss. A thrill shot through her. Her fingers slipped to the nape of his neck, her impatience growing as she urged him closer.

  Warmth. Sweetness. Tenderness. Not emotions Clarissa had previously associated with this man, but emotions that poured from his lips into hers. She was drowning and thanking every god and saint for the experience.

  David’s arms gathered her close, fitting her against the curves and planes of his body, filling the empty places with bonding heat. He gave her all he had to give and took nothing more than what she wanted him to have.

  “Love me.” She sighed against his lips, wanting to belong to this man as she’d never wanted a man before. The fire he’d built
within her blazed with an intensity she knew was consuming. She offered more.

  As if she weighed nothing, he slid his arms beneath her knees and lifted her. She knew he’d carried her like this twice before, but she didn’t remember either time. The sensation was familiar, as if his arms had left their mark.

  She slipped her arms around his neck, encircling him in her embrace. As David stepped across the floor, Clarissa’s lips moved to the warm column of his neck, seeking the hot beat just beneath his skin. When her lips found it, her tongue slipped out, seeking his taste.

  His breath faltered at her intimate touch and his arms tightened as his steps quickened. It was only seconds until he laid her back on the sheets. The cotton had cooled in her absence, but it did nothing to cool her ardor.

  “I want you. I’ve wanted you since that first day. You had me on fire before we even met.” His voice was soft and words became obsolete as his lips found hers again. No language had yet captured what he wanted her to know, to feel, to be.

  David’s touch was tentative and gentle as his fingers explored every inch of her. His feather-light touch tickled at the ridge of her collarbone and teased at the slope of her breasts. He found the aroused tip of her nipple, and his hand trembled just before he covered her, filling his palm. Moving slowly, enticingly, his hands moved in perfect harmony, creating magic. He generated a hot whirlwind within her.

  Arching her back, she offered him more. Her breathing grew quick and hard as she fought the vortex of passion threatening to swallow her. His lips replaced his fingers, and she nearly cried out. She wanted more. Much more.

  Just when she was sure she’d lose control, David moved away, leaving her swollen and hot. He trailed his hand down across the sensitive skin of her abdomen.

  His long fingers splayed across her hips, seeking each inch of her, teasing her, until she couldn’t stand the restraint any longer. His fingers slipped between her thighs where he found her warm and ready, tight and welcoming.

  She wanted to touch him. Her fingers ached, and she slid her hand over the broad expanse of his shoulders and back, helping remove the last of his clothing. Rippling muscles moved beneath her touch, setting fire to the nerve endings. She was trapped by the desire coursing over every inch of her skin.