Chaste Kiss (21 page)

Isabel grimaced at her poor play on words. She definitely didn't want to give him up, but sooner or later she'd have no choice. Somehow, she had to break the curse and let him go to wherever ghosts went. She only wanted his invisible touch just once before he disappeared from her life forever.

The doorbell rang, and a moment later Mick entered the room. Taking her hands in his, he looked her over appreciatively. “You look fabulous."

"Thank you,” she said, genuinely pleased to hear the rare compliment. Yet, his soft husky voice and the almost predatory gleam in his eye unnerved her. Maybe she shouldn't have worn her little black dress. It definitely sent the right signals, but to the wrong man.

Groaning internally, she felt pretty small for using Mick. He was a nice guy, and she wasn't being fair to him, but she couldn't break the date. What possible excuse could she use other than the truth?

Mick looked to the side at William. “Ashenhurst."

"Detective.” William gave a slight nod.

Their curt exchange set her teeth on edge.

Mick turned back to her and asked, “Are you ready?"

With a nod, Isabel picked up her bag, and took his arm.

Pausing a moment in the doorway, she glanced back at William. “Good night, William."

Lifting his gaze from his book, she noted a glimpse of longing in his eyes. Or had she imagined it?

"Good night.” His jaw clenched, and she felt vindicated. Perhaps her little black dress had accomplished more than she thought.

On the way to the restaurant, she and Mick chatted about her shop and about his work. The guilty feelings she'd experienced in using him to gain some ground in her war with William faded as she got to know Mick better. Isabel discovered she truly enjoyed his company and hoped they could become good friends. But friendship was definitely not on his mind.

He took her to a little Italian restaurant with cozy tables for two and plenty of privacy. She was lost as to how to guide their relationship down a different path without hurting his feelings or coming across as a manipulating barracuda. This whole seduction-jealousy thing was new to her.

"So how long have you known, Ashenhurst?” he asked.

"Oh, since I was, I mean, I met him during my last year in college."

It was getting harder to remember he was ghost, and that they had made up a story to explain him. She hated lying, and the more lies she told the more likely she'd slip up.

"And he just showed up on your doorstep one day for a visit?"

"Something like that,” she said.

Isabel noticed his tone and facial expressions had slipped into police mode. He looked as he did the day he interviewed her about the stalker. Was this how he handled rivals for her hand? Was the wrong guy jealous?

"How much do you know about him?” he asked.

"Why are you so interested in William?"

"I ran a check on him this afternoon. I came up with zilch."

"What on earth possessed you to do that?” She didn't bother to hide her anger. This was going too far. He had no right prying into William's life—afterlife—whatever.

"Take it easy, Isabel. I had to do it. It's my job. I've got to know everything I can about every person you come in contact with."

She grappled with her temper. The staunch detective had come along on their date. In a way, she was relieved and yet at the same time disappointed.

"William is not the stalker, Mick. He's an old friend."

"Then why can't I find anything on him? No records of any kind. No visa, no paper trail, no nothing. It's like he doesn't even exist."

"He's a recluse.” She hoped that would satisfy his curiosity. She couldn't allow him to dig too deeply, then again, he wouldn't find anything since nothing existed. At least not in this century.

Sighing heavily, he sat back. “And you trust him."

"With my life."

He ran his hand down his face. “Okay. I'm sorry I brought it up. Sometimes it's hard to separate my work from my personal life."

Isabel concentrated on calming her nerves. He was just doing his job and trying to protect her. Shame he couldn't protect her heart. “I'm sorry too. I know you're doing everything you can to find this flake."

"Now that we're friends again, how about we just enjoy the rest of the evening?"

They exchanged smiles and ordered their dinner. Thankfully, he didn't mention William or the stalker again. One problem taken care of, she concentrated her energies on the other, convincing Mick they were just friends, but the way he kept holding her hand and sending signals, she had no doubt he had other ideas entirely. She may not have a lot of experience with men, but some signs were simply too obvious to ignore.

Their date finally came to an end, but she was no closer to setting him straight on their relationship. Okay, so she'd chickened out on saying anything right up front, but she just didn't want to hurt his feelings. She'd been on the receiving end of the
just friend's
speech too many times, but somehow she didn't think her dates ever felt as horrible as she did.

Mick pulled up in front of Derrington Manor and walked her to the door. As Isabel busily went over various speeches in her mind, most of which she'd inadvertently memorized over the years, he suddenly kissed her. Stunned by the contact, she stood rigidly still and sadly, found herself analyzing his kiss. It was okay as kisses went, but it didn't set any great flame underneath her, either.

He lifted his head, still holding her close. “No sparks, huh?"

"I-I—"

"No. It's okay, Isabel.” Mick dropped his hands from her waist and stepped back. “I kind of had the feeling you and William were more than just friends."

"You don't understand."

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, I do. Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"That you're in love with him."

No words would come. Isbel stood staring, her mouth hanging open, as she shook her head. Did everybody know except William?

"Well, thanks anyway for a really nice evening,” he said, and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead, then turned and walked to his car.

"Mick, I'm—sorry,” she said with an awkward shrug. “I really like you, I just—"

He stopped at the end of the portico. “It's all right, Isabel. I really like you, too. It just isn't there between you and me."

"Will I see you again?"

"Oh, I'll be around. I'm still in charge of your case and, well—if it's all right with you, I'd like to be friends.” He smiled, and she knew he was sincere.

She let out a heavy sigh and smiled in return. “So would I. Very much."

He waved and skipped lightly down the steps to his car. She stood silently watching one of the nicest men she ever had the pleasure of knowing drive away.

Chapter Thirteen

Unable to bear the intimate exchange between his sweet Isabel and the detective, William paced the garden paths, grumbling under his breath. The dolt didn't have the slightest inkling of how to kiss a woman. Especially, not one full of fire like his Isabel. He would have taken her in his arms and plundered her sweet mouth with such force her knees would have gone weak. Not hold her as if she were a fragile piece of glass.

Perhaps he should have stayed to witness her reaction. Mayhap she slapped the unworthy rogue's face. Shaking his head, he trudged deeper into the garden. He should be pleased the kiss was so obviously inferior, but it goaded him nonetheless. How he longed to kiss her as a man instead of a specter.

Remembering his stolen kiss, William thought of her demands for his invisible touch. Nay, he could not do so again, and most certainly not with her knowledge. A most unpleasant chill would descend around her instead of the heat burning intensely inside him. The stolen kiss would have to be enough.

He chuckled disgustedly. Did the old hag know he would discover these things about his existence, and how they would further serve her purpose in his torment?

Settling on a bench, William held his head in his hands. He should leave before going completely insane. The longer he stayed the harder ‘twould be. Isabel belonged with a real man, not a shadow from the past. He started toward the house with leaden feet, the weight of his sorrow heavy upon his shoulders. She deserved a goodbye, at least.

"Nice night for a stroll,” Isabel said, meeting him on the path.

William's heart leapt to his throat. Her tiny dress allowed so much of her fair skin to show, she looked like a fairy bathed in moonlight. “Yes. It is a beautiful evening.” He must tell her now, before he lost the nerve.

"Mind if I walk with you?"

"I would welcome your company.” He struggled for the words, but a mere pittance emerged. “Did you enjoy your dinner?"

"It was very nice."

"Good.” He yearned to speak the truth, but could not. “I am glad you like Detective Wise. He seems an honorable man.” The words nearly choked him, making it impossible to say what must be said. “He will make you a fine husband."

"Oh, for the love of—I give up!” She spun her shapely body and glared at him, her hands splayed on her hips. “One minute I think I have it all figured out, and the next you throw another curve ball. I'm finished. Understand? I concede.” With a growl she turned and stormed back down the path.

"What is amiss? Why are you upset?” Her sudden anger had him completely baffled, but he verily enjoyed the sparks flying from her eyes. She was a passionate woman.

Isabel stopped abruptly and whirled back around. “You just don't get it do you?"

"Nay, apparently not.” He shook his head, still thoroughly confused.

"Let me spell it out for you, my lord. I like Mick. He's a nice guy, but he's just a friend. I only went out with him to make you jealous. I hoped it would win the war for me, but it didn't do squat! You're not jealous in the least. You even want me to marry the man! So, I give up. You win. No more war. No more battle of the sexes. No nothing. Got it? Good.” She turned and started toward the house, kicking at the pebbles as she stomped away.

"I am jealous.” Although he spoke softly, knowing he should not say the words, he could no longer keep the truth inside. The surge of relief coursing through his veins eased his aching spirit.

Pausing, she peered at him over her shoulder. “You are?"

William dropped his chin to his chest and muttered to the ground. “Aye."

"Then why didn't you say something?” Flailing her arms, she swiftly walked back to him. “Or do something? Anything?"

"I am not a real man. I cannot give you what he can."

Isabel crossed her arms firmly, her head tilted. “I don't want what he has to give. I want you."

He swallowed compulsively at the sight of her breasts pressing upward, mounding beautifully above the line of her dress. “Naught can be between us that is not already so."

"That's not true, and you know it."

He turned away from her and moved deeper into the garden. Her presence, her beauty was too tempting. “You are not to speak of such things. I will not lay my cold touch upon you."

"Then I'll settle for what we have now,” she said, following his retreat.

"'Tis not enough, Isabel. We are not meant to be, you and I. You must see that.” He heard her stop on the path and prayed the discussion had ended.

"All I know is I love you,” she said softly.

William's world shifted. Her spoken vow, words he believed ‘twould ne'er be spoken, enveloped his blackened soul and healed his guilt-ridden spirit.

She loved him. One could never find a more dishonorable ghost, and yet she would sacrifice her dreams, her life, to be with him. He was without words as he turned to find her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Isabel sniffled softly. “Since that obviously isn't enough for you, I won't be bothering you anymore, my lord.” Turning, she slowly walked away.

He should let her go. It would be better for her if he left, if they never saw one another again, but his heart would not allow it. “Isabel.” He hurried after her, but she quickened her steps. “Pray, love. I beg you."

She slowed her pace and finally came to a stop alongside a large shade tree. Reaching out, she picked at the rough bark keeping her back to him.

He struggled for words to soothe her tender heart. “I am honored you care for me, for I most assuredly do not deserve it."

She swiped at her face with a trembling hand. It pained him greatly to know he caused her tears.

"I too, feel a great deal for you. I—” William sighed at the sound of his unsteady voice, but willed himself to speak. “I love you, Isabel. With all my heart. A heart that is breaking because it cannot give you the things you desire. A home, a husband, a family."

She turned, and lifted her tear filled eyes to his. “The thing I desire most is you, William."

Warmth flowed from the sparkling emerald depths of her eyes. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to take her in his arms as a real man, but he could only give her a shadow of those things. A chilling glimmer of a touch. She must know the truth of it.

He faded as he stepped into the deep shadow of the tree until he was invisible to all but her. “Come to me, love."

Unsteadily, she stepped closer then leaned back against the trunk of the tree.

"Know what is between us before you sacrifice your life for me. For I can give you only this.” He extended his hand and brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

She took a sharp breath, and he quickly pulled away.

"No. Please,” she whispered. “I just didn't know what it would feel like."

"I am cold. I know this."

"No. You're not cold. It's different, but not cold. Touch me again, William. Please."

Unable to battle the powerful yearnings of his heart and soul, he lowered his head and brushed her mouth with his. He'd never known such pleasure, such warmth. Her very essence seeped into the crevices of his battered spirit and filled the empty cavity of his existence. He would not trade this moment for all the queen's jewels, but he had to stop.

"Oh, sweet Isabel,” he murmured against her lips.

Raising her hand, she gently stroked his mouth with her fingers then jerked away.