Incorporeal (23 page)

Her smile vanishing, Sara fought back tears
. Yeah, guess I wouldn’t believe me either. I sound like a crazy woman.

So what else is new?

***

Four and a half hours into the flight, Nate set the manuscript aside. He glanced at the cheese and fruit plate the flight attendant had left for him, but the only thing he wanted at that moment in time was Sara Wise, in his arms. Closing his eyes, he stretched, forcing himself to remain seated. He knew deep inside what he’d just read was the truth, but to give the notion any credence was the definition of insanity.

How did she come up with the name, de Manua?

She got it from me, of course, or from my so-called ghost
. He shook his head.
Incorporeal. What a perfect title
. Nate couldn’t help it, he grinned. He’d been reading with a hard on for an hour. The bedroom scenes she’d written in the book were straight out of his dreams.

I must be in the hotel room, sound asleep, because this cannot be possible.

Out of the blue, Nate remembered.
The flight has wifi
.

He pulled his laptop from the satchel and switched it on. In a short time, he was googling Sara Wise, California and serial killers.

Ten minutes later, Nate shoved the laptop aside and sat back in his chair.
Christ, the woman is telling the truth
.
The man who was killed, Nathan de Manua, saved two lives; three if you count the unborn child
.

This is nothing more than a weird coincidence
.
I don’t put any stock in dreams and fairy tales, nor in ghosts. I never have.

But you know the entire story. You’ve lived it every night for two months.

Nate’s head throbbed. Nothing about the situation made sense. If he hadn’t dreamed of her, if he didn’t remember the luscious taste and smell of her…
But that’s a moot point, don’t you think? You know every inch of her soft skin, intimately. Even if your brain doesn’t, your dick does.
Uncomfortable, Nate shifted in his seat.

You should talk to her
.

Nate met her in the aisle as she walked his way. She stopped a foot from him, and he watched her fists clench and unclench, as if she tried to stop herself from reaching for him.

“
I’m going to London, on business,” she said, eyes locked on the pulse in his throat. “And then I’m traveling to Spain, to Andalusia, to see where you were born, where your mother, Katherine, died. I’m naming my baby for her.”

“
My mother is alive and well and living on the family estate up north.”

He caught the roll of her eyes. “I won’t explain myself to you. There’s nothing I can say that you’d believe in any case. I just thought you should know.”

“
Now I know.” Nate inhaled, savoring the fragrance of her hair.

“
Here’s my card.” She grabbed his hand and thrust a business card into it.

Nate felt like he’d been struck by lightning. When she tried to withdraw her hand, he held onto her.

“
Let go of me, ghost.”

“
No.” Without further hesitation, Nate drew the woman into his arms. He threaded his hands through her thick, silky hair. Twining the fiery curls around his fists, he tilted her head back.
Damn those lips look delicious.
As if she heard his thought, she parted them and he was lost.

Nate lowered his mouth to hers, starved for the taste of her. He plundered her willing mouth exactly as he’d done in his dreams, but his dreams couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Her warmth washed over him, she tasted sweet; her scent was that of summer. The feel of her in his arms was as natural to him as breathing.

At long last, he lifted his head. “Damn, Sara, I’ve missed you.”

Where did that come from?

Sara’s lower lip began to tremble, but she looked up, her wide eyes guileless. “Do you remember?”

Nate shook his head. “I don’t know what I remember. But I remember you.”

They stood in silence for several minutes. At last Nate said, “I don’t understand.”

Sara smiled though her eyes filled with tears. “I never understood either.”

Chapter Nineteen

Once they reached Sara’s hotel room, neither said a word. Nate removed her clothes as soon as she’d shut the door. He didn’t ask a single question because he knew she couldn’t provide an answer that made sense.

There was no logical explanation for his overwhelming need for Sara. The only thing he knew with absolute certainty was that he would not be satisfied until he’d made love to her, not in some dream, but in the here and now, in the flesh.

He expected Sara to protest; say something like,
maybe we should take it slow
,
or I don’t really know you
, but she didn’t. She responded to his lightest touch with reckless abandon.

Nate forced himself to take care, she was pregnant after all, but he couldn’t wait. He had to be inside her. He sat her on his lap so he could bury himself deep and play with her beautiful breasts at the same time. Thirty minutes later, he was ready for seconds, but this time, he managed to go slow, bringing her to orgasm over and over again before he let himself finish with her.

After the third time, Sara fell into an exhausted sleep. Turning onto her side, she curled against him like a tired kitten, while Nate drifted in a half-sleep, his craving for her eased somewhat; his hunger temporarily appeased. Holding her felt right, despite all his reservations and unanswered questions. Nothing had changed, the story was all nonsense, but at that moment, Nate didn’t much care. He smiled as the child she carried pressed an appendage against his side.

My child
?
Hah
.
I must be crazy to even consider the possibility
.

It was his last conscious thought before he joined Sara in sleep.

***

“
Nathan.” A woman called his name. Her voice sounded familiar. “Nathan,” she called again.

Green grass, there’s green grass beneath my feet
. Nate lifted his eyes and studied his surroundings. He stood beside a tumble-down stone wall. The rocks were worn, weathered and ancient. Just beyond the wall, he spied a cliff. Ignoring the woman’s voice, he scrambled over the rough stones and walked to the edge, peering down at the ocean. Waves washed over fallen boulders, crashed against the steep sides of the crumbling cliff. The sight of the swirling whirlpools and battling currents stirred something inside him. A thread of memory seemed to float just out of reach. Disconcerted, Nate stepped back from the edge.

Noticing a well-worn footpath off to his left, Nate followed it along the cliff’s edge. The path rose and dipped until at last it dropped into a quiet bay. Here, gentle waves lapped against the shore. The water was clear and blue.

Overcome by a sudden desire to walk through the sand on bare feet, Nate sat down on a nearby rock. He pulled off one of his boots and held it in his hand, staring, turning it over.
Where did I get these?
They appeared handmade, the leather soft, supple, the toes worn. The heels didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen on a pair of boots.

The beach was deserted so Nate set the boots aside and headed for the breakers. He thought to roll up his jeans, but found he wore some sort of hand-woven linen trouser.
Christ, I’ve never worn linen in my life
. With a shrug, he rolled the legs of the trousers into cuffs and waded into the shallows.

The water was so clear and calm, he could see the bottom. He watched his step, avoiding the spines of anemones and sharp rocks. The farther Nate walked, the more comfortable he grew, until he felt as calm as the water in the isolated bay.

This place is so familiar. It feels like home. But that’s impossible. I don’t live near the ocean.

He stopped to watch gulls wheel in the updrafts above.

Damn, this sea air smells rich and fecund. It reminds me of something, but what, some other lifetime, perhaps? Or does it remind you of Sara, the dream woman?

“
Natan de Manua.”

Nate whirled at the sound of her voice. “Mother?”

The word was out of his mouth before he even realized he’d said it.

A woman sat on a flat rock. The morning sun illuminated the gold of her hair and enhanced the deep blue tint of her long gown. “Mother,” he repeated, but now he wasn’t asking a question. “I don’t understand.”

“
No, you wouldn’t. Come.” The woman patted the surface of the rock. There was enough space for him to sit beside her.

Nate hesitated for a moment, uncertain as all hell. This was like his dreams of Sara, but much more vivid, more real. The cold water lapping against his ankles chilled him. Sand squished between his curled toes. The wind whistled past, and the sea had a smell so powerful he could taste it. He could see every single detail of the woman clearly, from the locks of fair hair that escaped her headdress, to the gold trim on her sleeves, to the pointed toes of her brown leather shoes poking out from beneath the wide skirt of her gown. He left the water and approached his mother.

My mother?

Nate made his way across the sand and perched on the edge of the rock, facing the sea. “Where am I?”

“
Think, for a moment, my son. Reach down deep into your heart and remember. You know this place.”

Home, this is home
. “This isn’t my home,” he replied, knowing he lied. He glanced at the woman; saw the smile that played about her lips.
She knows I’m lying
. “Why am I here?”

“
Because whenever you are worried or have questions, you come here, to the water. You have since you were a small child. I’ve always known where to look for you.”

“
You’re as bad as Sara. You speak in riddles. I have no brothers. I have two sisters.”

The woman laughed. “In which life?”

“
In my life, I have only one life.” Nate rose to his feet, intending to get far away from her.

“
You called me mother.” She followed him. “You know who I am and somewhere in here,” she placed a hand over his heart, “you know who you are.”

Nate couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m Nathaniel Henry Neville.”

“
And?”

“
And nothing. I was born in England. My father is Robert Neville, my mother is Sylvia. My sisters are Sabina and Brooke. I’m the owner and chief operating officer of de Manua Shipping.”

Abruptly, Nate stopped speaking. He found himself at a loss for words. He turned in a complete circle, eyes roving from the beach to the top of the cliff and back again. “This place, I remember this place. I came here after your, Christ, after your death, after your murder. I stood here, in this very spot and I swore I’d never forget or forgive.” Nate spun around. His hand reached for hers. “Was it all a dream? You’re alive? You were never killed?”

No, that’s impossible. She’s a young woman, the woman I remember from my childhood
.
I’m a grown man
and I have a mother
.

The woman reached for him. Her hand caressed his cheek. “Who am I, Nathan?”

Nate closed his eyes and forced his lips to form words. “You’re my mother, Katherine Neville de Manua. You died in this place; you, my father, my brothers, my sisters and all our servants. You were burned to death in the stables along with our stallions and brood mares. You’ve been dead for over five hundred years.”

“
And what does that make you?”

Nate’s eyes flew open and he stared into her face. “A ghost.”

“
My poor son, this is so very hard for you.” She opened his hand and placed something within it. Nate looked down. It was a ring, red gold, studded with diamonds and rubies. It was his mother’s wedding band.

“
For her,” she said, closing his fingers around it.

Nate bolted upright.
What the hell? Where am I?
The woman lying next to him murmured in her sleep.
Sara
. He opened his clenched fist, certain he’d find the ring, but he held nothing.

I
know that ring. I’ve seen it in the lock box in my father’s desk. Which father?

Panicked, Nate ran his hands over his torso, checking to make certain he had a body, that he was indeed corporeal.
Christ, I’ve got to get out of here. Either I’m bewitched or I’m losing my mind
.

Careful not to disturb her, Nate slid out of bed. He grabbed his clothes from the floor and tiptoed to the bathroom. After dressing, he searched the dark room for his bag and his boots. He carried both to the door, opened and closed it as softly as possible, and hurried to the lobby to call a cab.

Fucking coward, you’re a fucking coward
.

***

Sara woke with joy in her heart. The heaviness she’d felt since Nathan’s death had lifted.

He’s alive. He doesn’t remember me, well, he doesn’t remember what happened, but he knows me. That’s the important thing. Deep inside, he’s still my Nathan. All I need is a way to reach that buried part of him.