Chaste Kiss (17 page)

"This is all very odd, but if you say he's a friend of yours—well, I suppose it would be all right. We'll put him up in the Regency room."

"Oh, thank you.” She bounced up and kissed his cheek.

"Renaissance, eh? And a lord no less,” he mumbled.

As they went back into the library, she relished the idea of her two favorite men getting to know one another.

Jerome stopped a few feet in front of William, her uncle's hands clasped behind his back. “My niece tells me you're a bit of an authority on the Renaissance period."

"A bit.” William glanced suspiciously at Isabel.

"Well then, perhaps you and I could enjoy a talk or two while you're visiting with us."

"I would enjoy that, sir."

"Good, good. Well, I'll leave you two to get reacquainted. I imagine it's been a while since you last saw each other."

"It seems like only yesterday,” William mumbled.

"Uncle Jerome, would you please tell Constance what I said?” Isabel asked.

"Certainly.” Her uncle eyed their visitor curiously then left the room.

William quickly closed the library doors and gave her a deep scowl. “What are you about, Isabel?"

Placing herself behind one of the wingback chairs, she gripped its edge, momentarily relieved he couldn't touch her when solid. He looked terribly angry. But this was war, after all.

"I figured it would be easier for both of us, if you just became a real person,” she said.

"By God's wounds, woman! Are you mad?” He stalked across the room and stood opposite the chair, his arm muscles flexing as he clenched his fists. “I am not real! I cannot exist in your world!"

Holding her ground against the onslaught of his temper, she clutched the chair tighter. “Calm down. Do you want them to hear you?"

Grumbling, he paced frantically about the room. She watched him, hoping and praying he would agree.

Stopping abruptly, he pinned her with his deep blue gaze. “I will not do it, Izzy."

She flinched at the use of her childhood nickname. It made her sound like a spoiled, mischievous child, and she didn't like it one bit. “I asked you not to call me that."

"Nay.” He snatched a pen off the desk and pointed it at her. “When you scheme as you have this day, you are the Izzy I once knew. Of that there is no doubt."

Isabel stepped out from behind the chair and eased toward him, keeping a firm grip on her temper. It wouldn't do any good to blow up. She'd have to use calm, calculated reason as her weapon. “Look, I can't keep carrying the knife around, and you can't carry it when you're invisible. I don't see what the problem is. You'll be a guest here for a while. No big deal.” With a casual shrug of her shoulders, the battle lines were drawn.

"And what about touching? Your uncle was offended when I did not take his hand in greeting."

"All fixed. You're an eccentric and can't abide being touched. You've spent most of your life as a recluse.” She moved calmly around the room, working her way closer to him.

William growled. “And eating. Have you thought on that? I cannot eat with your family."

Okay, so she lost a few feet in the battle. It had definitely turned into a full-blown game of tug-of-war. “Have you ever tried to eat?"

"Why would I? I'm dead."

"Okay, then we test you.” She opened the candy dish her uncle kept on his desk and thrust it at him. “Here."

"What, pray tell, is this?"

She dropped a piece of gum into his upturned palm. “It's edible, sort of. You just chew it. Go on."

With a deep sigh, he popped the morsel into his mouth, and chewed. “Now what?"

"Well, we've determined you can chew. Spit it in here.” She held up a trashcan, and he did as she instructed.

"Now that's weird,” she said looking at the gum. “It looks exactly the same. As if you never chewed it."

"I told you. I am not real!"

"Oh, calm down. It looks like chewing and that's enough. Now, the question is can you swallow? I know. Water.” She dropped the trashcan and hurried to the bar. After filling a glass, she carried it to him. “Drink this."

He carefully lifted the cup from her hand and sipped the water, then pulled it away from his lips, but the water remained in the glass.

"Amazing,” she said in awe.

"I told you this would not work.” He placed the glass on the desk. “I can only affect things externally, not internally, because there is nothing there."

She nodded. “This is so odd. You don't contain anything but air. You're kind of like a bubble. You're there, but with one touch you'd pop."

Her heart sank as the reality of the situation struck a sharp chord deep in her soul. He always seemed so real, but there was hope for them yet. She refused to give up. They could be together like normal people, almost, when he was solid and touch when he was invisible. She just had to convince him.

Perhaps over time they could find a way to break the curse. To bring William back to her world. It would be an unusual relationship, to be sure, but one she wanted desperately. She couldn't imagine what her life would be like without him in it.

"You see why this will not work?” he asked.

"Yes it will. You'll take all your meals in your room, and we'll find a way to dump them. Uncle Jerome's bound to go for it. He's pretty much a recluse himself. It's perfect.”
Well, almost perfect
.

His eyes narrowed as he peered down at her. “What is the real reason you are doing this?"

"You got caught.” A poor excuse, but if he had any idea of what was going through her mind, he'd disappear in a blink. And there'd be no telling when or if he'd ever appear again. The thought terrified her.

He stepped in front of her, his nose dangerously close to hers. Her breath caught in her throat. So close and yet so far, but that didn't stop her thoughts from conjuring up his scent. She imagined a rich, tangy aroma, so real she could almost taste it.

His gaze searched her face. “I could have easily left, politely refused his hospitality, and well you know it. ‘Tis more to this deception than what you claim."

Definitely a hint of citrus, but she knew it couldn't really be there. Could it? She shook her head. Her imagination was getting stranger by the minute, and she needed her wits about her if she wanted to win this battle of wills.

"I want to help you find your family.” She kept her gaze fixed on the center of his chest, unable to look into his piercing eyes.

Images slipped through her mind of moonlit nights and an invisible lover. Invisible to anyone but her. Was it possible? Could she convince him? Better still, could they break the curse and become true lovers?

"And?” he asked, lifting her chin with the pen.

Lost in the depths of his eyes, she couldn't keep her thoughts inside. They slipped from her lips on his simple command. “I thought we might find a way to break the curse."

He sighed, dropping his hand to his side. “Isabel, there is naught we can do. You know that."

She smiled uncomfortably, trying to hide her disappointment. “Can't a girl dream a little?"

He shook his head. “What am I to do with you?"

The impish grin stole across her lips before she could stop it. “I have a few ideas."

He took one long stride backward. “Nay. I will not."

She bit her bottom lip. He was a tough one, this ghost of hers, but she wasn't giving up. She just needed some time.

"All right.” She sighed. “You can't blame a girl for trying."

Moving to the large leather chair behind the desk, she flopped into it and decided to change the subject. While his defenses were still up, she could regroup. “Now, we've got to get your story straight."

William returned the pen to its holder and leaned against the edge of the desk, his arms folded over his chest. “I have not agreed to this."

"Oh? And you want to give me one good reason why not?"

"'Tis far too dangerous. I am liable to be sent to Purgatory without so much as a by your leave."

"Fine. Disappear. I'll simply tell Uncle Jerome you had second thoughts. But don't expect anymore drives or outings."

"'Tis blackmail,” he growled.

She smiled smugly. “I like to think of it as negotiation."

He sank into the chair opposite the desk with a heavy sigh. “As I have said before. You have chosen the wrong profession."

William settled into a chair in the Regency bedroom with a book of English history across his lap, but his mind did not dwell on the text. All he could think of was what had occurred a few days prior. He had been introduced to Jerome Derrington and Constance Southerland like any normal human being visiting on holiday. The only exception was he could not eat or touch.

His mind reeled with the idea of being treated as if he were alive. ‘Twas a pleasure, to be sure. Another wonderful gift from his sweet Isabel, although this one had a bit of an edge to it. She most definitely had an ulterior motive.

The incident with Detective Wise at the college library had been a grave mistake. Knowing he could touch when invisible, she demanded to have the experience at every turn, but William balked at the idea. He could not, would not lay his cold hand upon her. ‘Twould surely frighten her, or at the very least cause her to shy away from him.

The situation was troublesome. Forced to remain visible, he was not able to hide from her, however, being treated as a living human being did give him a slight advantage. As long as he was never left alone with her, she could not insist on being touched since he could not become invisible in front of the others. Yet, evading those singular moments became more and more difficult with each passing day.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in.” He hoped ‘twas not the object of his musings. He should not have tarried so long alone in his room. If it were Isabel, he was surely doomed.

A silver capped head peered around the door. “Lord Ashenhurst?"

"One would not use the title of lord with my surname, Miss Southerland, but ‘tis of no consequence.” He grimaced over his choice of words. “Please, call me William."

His form of speech still needed much improvement to pass for a twenty-first century man. He would have to be more resilient in his attempts.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize.” She came into the room bearing a dinner tray. “I thought you might be hungry. And call me Constance."

"Thank you for the thought, but I am afraid I have no desire to eat. I mean, I'm not hungry."

"Well, I'll just leave it here in case you change your mind.” She set the tray on the small table near the window.

"Thank you, Constance."

"You know, I could have sworn we've met before, but I'm sure that's not possible. Since I've never been to England, and this is your first visit here."

He suspected Constance had caught a glimpse of him when he frightened her out of the Elizabethan room several months before. It seemed like years ago. “No. As I said earlier upon our meeting, I have not had the pleasure before."

"Oh well. Maybe I'm just getting a little senile.” She giggled lightly. “Old age does that to a person."

He smiled down at the petite woman. She really was quite nice. “You are far from old, Constance, and a more charming woman I have yet to meet."

She beamed then eyed him speculatively. “Not even Isabel?"

"She is a most unique woman.” That description barely brushed the surface of Isabel's intricacies.

"Uh-huh.” She propped one hand on her hip and looked boldly into his eyes. “You don't fool me, William. I've seen the way you watch her every move when you think she isn't looking. I don't suppose you've told her you're in love with her."

A wave of fear swamped his thoughts. Were his feelings so obvious? Did Isabel herself suspect them? He could not let Constance or anyone know of them. “I'm afraid you are mistaken. I do possess a great affection for her, but we are friends, nothing more."

"What a shame.” With a shake of her head, Constance walked back to the door. “And with her being in love with you and all. Seems such a waste.” She quickly slipped out of the room.

William's phantom heart stopped beating for several seconds. ‘Twas not possible. It could not be so. His sweet Isabel could not have such feelings for him. Constance had to be mistaken. She did seem to be a bit of a matchmaker. Her earlier discussions about the detective and Isabel were proof of that. Nay, he could not believe it. No one could love his blackened heart.

Believing he might be safer if he remained in one of the public rooms, William decided to go back to the library in hopes of waylaying any chance of a private moment with Isabel. He would remain there all night if necessary. He could not allow her to visit him in his room, and he had not visited hers since this farce of living began.

A twinge of disappointment pinched his heart. He had verily enjoyed their evening's together reading and playing chess. He sorely missed that time, but he felt the battle of wills between them. The determined countenance of her face when she argued her points and the stubbornness he knew that ran through her veins in vast amounts, all told him how their game would go, and he had been right.

At every turn she was there, arguing and demanding, her beautiful eyes sparking with fire and her cheeks flushing with color. He could only bow his head and return his nose to his books, or seek out Jerome for conversation. She was a tenacious creature, but not once did she plead. If she were to beg in the slightest, it would surely be his undoing. She had no idea how many times he had come close to giving in to the need to touch her, feel her delicious warmth.

His thoughts leapt back to Constance's words. Did Isabel love him? Could it be possible? Was that why she argued so determinedly for his touch? In her mind, did she believe in some odd way they could be together as more than friends?

He prayed it was not so. The thoughts of such a liaison between them tore at his soul. It would be more painful to witness the horrid expression on her face from his icy touch, than to see the longing in her eyes. He must disappear from her life before it was too late. Before his heart could be broken in two, if ‘twas not already on the verge of such a fissure.