Chaste Kiss (12 page)

Dropping her chin to her chest with a weary sigh, she sunk into the chair next to the table. “William, I'm sorry. I should have realized how hard it is to look at the very thing that's caused you so much suffering."

He turned and looked out the window to the shadow filled garden below. Nay, he brought his wretched existence upon himself with his philandering ways. ‘Twas what he deserved.

"I, um, was thinking I should put the dagger back and not tell Uncle Jerome about it,” she said softly. “If he knew, there's no telling where the dagger might end up. I mean, he might put it under glass or maybe even sell it to a museum. And then you'd be forced to go wherever it went."

She paused, and he cast a glance over his invisible shoulder. William could see her mind working as she nervously tapped her chin, staring at the dagger.

"William, do you think you could keep it with you? I mean, then you could go wherever you wanted and use the cubby to hide it when your energies run low."

"I do not wish to touch the vile thing.” He looked back to the window as he slowly became solid, his arms folded across his chest.

"But you could go anywhere you like. I thought that's what you wanted. It may not be as good as being alive, but at least you would have some control of your life—uh, existence."

Dropping his arms, he turned to face her, his fists clenching. He saw her eyes widen at the sight of his apparent anger.

She smiled sheepishly. “Then again, I could just put it back and forget the whole thing."

William released a heavy sigh and relaxed his hands. “Isabel, I understand what you wish to do for me, but I do not think it wise to tamper with the evil the old woman cast around the blade."

She gifted him a small smile. “Don't you see? It's been here all along and nothing bad has happened to me or anyone else. The dagger is tied to you and you to it. Nothing more. Use it to your advantage instead of giving into the curse. Take control of the curse instead of letting it control you. After all, it would be a lot safer in your keeping. Heaven forbid you should end up in a dusty old basement of some museum."

With a shake of his head, he grinned. “You have a strong point, sweeting. Perhaps you have chosen the wrong profession.” He stepped next to her at the table.

Taking a deep breath, she eyed the dagger. “How long do you think you can keep it with you?"

"I do not know. I shall try to keep it by my side always, but I will do as you suggest and return it to its hiding place when I can no longer hold it. I thank you, mistress. You have given me a great gift."

William reached for the dagger, hesitating a moment before lifting it and sliding it into his boot. Handing her the cloth, he instructed her to return it to the hidden cubby. He would need only to wrap the dagger when it rested there, which he believed would be never. He had lied to her about being weary. To his knowledge, his energy was infinite, but ‘twas also true he had never attempted to hold an object for more than a few moments. Perhaps her idea would not work after all.

She closed the cabinet door and climbed down from the bed. “How do you feel?"

"I feel as I have always felt. Perhaps you were right."

"Um, ready for another test?” She chewed fervently on her bottom lip.

Turning toward the window, he swallowed hard. Somehow, he would find a way to break her of that disquieting habit. “What is it you wish of me now?"

"I thought you might like to go for a moonlight ride."

William heard the mischief in her voice as her suggestion settled on his brain. Freedom to roam, to experience the world. A world he had only seen through books and television.

He turned back to her, unable to hide the broad smile upon his face. “I would be most honored to escort you."

"I'll stop and let Uncle Jerome know I'm stepping out for a little while. I'll meet you in the garage."

Grabbing a sweater, she spun toward the door and stopped. “Looks like we have a little problem. You disappear, but the knife doesn't."

"'Twould appear I am also unable to materialize elsewhere while the blade is in my possession, however I can move about.” He demonstrated by walking across the room.

"Great. A floating dagger. Well, I guess we'll have to find a way to work around that. How about I carry it down to the car?"

"Are you certain this is wise?"

Isabel planted her hand on her hip, her head cocked. “Do you want to go for a ride or not?"

He sighed with a small smile. “Aye. Very much."

"Then hand it over.” She extended her hand. “Come on, come on,” she said, wiggling her fingers.

He hesitantly did as she instructed, but could not dissuade the uneasy feeling it gave him.

"Meet you there.” She quickly wrapped the dagger in her sweater and scampered out the door.

Chapter Seven

Taking a deep breath, William concentrated on the garage, and slowly materialized beside the little red car. Having never been so far from the bed, he found the experience liberating.

A few moments later, Isabel appeared opposite him and climbed into the driver's seat. “Okay, my lord. Hop in."

He slid over the edge and settled into his seat.

"I would say, buckle up, but somehow I don't think it matters.” She chuckled and started backing out. “You'd better go invisible again until we get past the house. I wouldn't want Uncle Jerome or Constance to see you. Way too many questions."

He disappeared and waited until the house was no longer in view before reappearing. A hardy laugh burst from his lips. ‘Twas a wondrous thing to be free.

Laughing with him, Isabel said, “Here.” And handed him the dagger. “You hold on to it for a while."

He slipped it back into his boot, then laid his head back and gazed at the stars, his hair flying freely around his face. ‘Twas invigorating. He almost felt alive.

A delicate humming sound drew his attention to the enchanting woman beside him. He watched with great fascination as she changed the gears without missing a beat in her merry tune. “You enjoy driving."

"Love it."

He had the urge to try his hand at the task and wondered if she would be willing to tutor him.

"I know! I'll teach you to drive."

"You have read my mind, sweeting,” he said, laughing deeply. “I would greatly enjoy the experience."

"We'll have to be careful. If someone saw you, it would be an end to our little party."

"Aye, too many questions. Would this help?” The car swerved off the edge of the road for a second. “Is something amiss?"

"You—you changed clothes."

"Aye, Isabel. I can change my appearance. Is this not suitable?” He looked down at his choice of attire. A white oxford shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a pair of blue jeans and boots, and his hair pulled back with a new leather tie. He took his appearance to be similar to that of Jerome's, but the look on Isabel's face perplexed him.

"No, it's, uh, fine. I'd forgotten how you changed the day you scared off Chad. I'll, um, find us an empty parking lot."

William heard the stiffness in her voice, and it concerned him greatly. What had happened to taint her jovial mood?

Isabel did everything she could to keep her hands from shaking. William had always been extremely handsome in his Renaissance attire, but dressed in faded jeans and an oxford shirt, he was lethal. The car wasn't the only thing in high gear. Her hormones were in overdrive.

Trying to think of him as a ghostly friend was difficult enough, but now it was impossible. He looked too real and too gorgeous. She'd never be able to take him out in daylight. Women would fawn all over him, and all it would take was one touch.

A possessive thought struck home. He was hers and she wasn't sharing.

She glanced at him then looked back at the road. He was watching her. His brow had that all too familiar crease down its center, and she ached to kiss it away. Propping her elbow on the door, she rubbed her forehead, trying to stop her growing headache.

"Are you not well, sweeting?"

"No, no. I'm fine. Here we are.” She downshifted, pulled into a parking lot next to an abandoned warehouse, and parked the car. “Your turn.” She climbed out of the driver's seat and went around to the other side.

William slipped the dagger under his seat, then rematerialized behind the wheel.

"You're going to have to stop doing that when we're out in public.” She opened the passenger door and slid in.

"My apologies."

"You'd better buckle your seat belt, too. It's the law, and we wouldn't want to get pulled over. I planned on staying on the open road, but we need the city lights to help you see what you're doing until you get used to driving."

He clicked the belt into place and turned a dazzling smile to her. “What do I do first?"

Isabel laughed, relieving some of her stress. “Okay, first some basics."

Carefully going over the general rules of driving, she explained the basics to operating a stick shift. William soaked up her words like a sponge. His eagerness threatened to consume them both, and she finally gave the go ahead.

Amazingly enough, he didn't break her neck. With only a few jerks and grinds, he quickly got the hang of it, and they were driving down Main Street.

"Remember what I told you about speed limits. You've got to be careful,” she said. “A cop will pull us in a minute."

"I remember. I know about them from television. I do not wish to get you into trouble, Isabel. Would you prefer I stop the car?"

His kicked-puppy-dog look left her all soft and squishy inside. Why did he have to be so adorable? “No, you're doing fine. Just be careful."

She watched his shirt flutter in the wind, and his dark hair strain against the new leather tie. No one would ever know he was a four hundred-year-old ghost.

"William, you said you couldn't smell or taste, but can you feel the wind on your face right now?"

"Aye, and it feels most glorious.” He smiled broadly.

"Don't you think it's kind of odd you have some senses and not others? That even the wind knows you're, well, real?"

"Is not my very existence odd?"

"You got me there.” She giggled softly. “Turn up here, and we'll get out of town."

As he pulled up to the stoplight and waited for it to change, an open jeep full of college girls pulled alongside them. Isabel had forgotten it was Friday night.

"Hey there, hot stuff!” a bouncy blonde yelled from the jeep.

William waved casually. “Hi."

"Want a party?” one of the other girls asked.

"Not tonight, but thanks,” he replied.

The girls giggled. “Oooh, an English accent,” one of them crooned.

Isabel wanted to scream.

William turned at the sound of her grinding teeth. The look she gave him spoke words more unpleasant than those she had spewed earlier. She was most definitely not pleased.

The light changed, and he quickly made the turn.

"Hi? Not tonight, but thanks?” she parroted gruffly. “Jumped a few centuries there didn't you—
hot stuff
?"

What had upset her so? His manner of speech was appropriate, he was certain. He had watched a sufficient amount of television and had heard naught else. Albeit, his own form of speech was easier, he believed a response was needed to the young maids’ inquiries in the correct style.

"I thought it best not to sound unusual,” he said.

"Too late.” Grumbling, she folded her arms and stared resolutely at the road ahead of them.

She was jealous! The thought warmed William's ghostly heart more than he could say. Her confession of wanting his touch proved she was a woman with desires, but her display of jealousy said so much more. Could she possibly care for him as more than a friend?

Nay, no one could love a man with so black a past. Not even heaven could forgive him of his many sins. Yet, he did enjoy her misguided display of possessiveness.

Feigning innocence, he asked. “Are you angry with me?"

"No, not at all. Go ahead and flirt with every girl in town. It doesn't bother me in the least.” Her color deepened as she squirmed in her seat.

Perhaps he had best not play too innocent. He would not wish to lose his only friend. “I was not flirting. An answer was required and I supplied it. I am sorry it has upset you."

He pulled the car onto the shoulder and twisted in his seat to face her. He knew they were near Derrington Manor, and he must disappear soon. Jerome could not see her return with a man.

"If I were to flirt, Isabel, ‘twould not be with chits such as those. You are the only woman I care to keep company with.” He knew he should not say such things. They would only lead to the pain he experienced in the garden earlier. He must bury his growing feelings and unrealistic hopes deep within his soul.

Isabel studied her lap intensely as she twisted a button on her sweater. “Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away. You've been my secret for so long, I guess I felt like—like I wasn't special anymore."

"Look at me."

She peered at him with the light of the moon shining brightly in her eyes. His heart beat erratically. The things the woman did to his being astounded him.

"You are very special, sweeting. You are the most wonderful person I have ever known and ever care to know. What we share is priceless to me. We are friends, are we not?"

A tremulous smile spread across her face, easing his racing heart. He could not lose her. He would not. If she chose to take his advice and leave, then so be it. But he would not let her think she meant nothing to him.

"I thank you for the ride, but I fear ‘tis time to end it.” He stepped out of the car, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door for her.

She stood and smiled up at him. “Thank you."

"Nay, thank you. It has been a most exciting night."

They climbed back in the car and headed home. William vanished as they rounded the corner in front of the house, but stayed invisibly by her side until they were once again alone in her bedchamber.

"I will leave you now,” he said. “You have had a long day, and I fear you have done too much. You are still not fully recovered."

"I'm fine. I'm probably more fit now than before the accident.” She unwrapped the dagger from her sweater and handed it to him. “How are you going to get around with it showing?"