Was she speaking about the ghost from my dream? Riane wondered. How did she know about her?
‘Riane?’
Startled again, Riane looked back to the drawing room door to find Marcus, bewitched.
‘I have died and found heaven.’ He placed a hand over his heart to reinforce the sincerity of his compliment.
Riane was thankful that the make-up hid how severely she blushed. ‘That has been my impression ever since I entered your realm, Marcus.’ She was drawn toward his admiring gaze, the fire in his eyes. ‘It’s a spell, isn’t it?’
‘What else but an enchantment could be so potent …’ he stopped just short of tasting her lips of peach ‘… so all-consuming.’
‘Great Scott!’ Jasper startled the life out of both of them. ‘A goddess in our midst.’ He took hold of Riane’s hand and led her into the drawing room. ‘Go and get dressed, Marcus. I shall keep your divine guest entertained until you get back.’
Marcus was clearly horrified by the idea. ‘Like hell —’
‘Are you going to take her with you?’ Jasper asked, raising his brow suggestively a couple of times. ‘There’s plenty of time until dinner.’
‘Jasper, please,’ Marcus appealed.
‘I’ll be fine here with Jasper,’ Riane assured him, although Marcus obviously thought her a slave to Jasper’s charm. ‘He seems the perfect gentleman to me.’
Jasper grinned broadly at his brother and gave one victorious nod.
‘And if he isn’t,’ Riane added, ‘I know a few fairly violent self-defence moves that ought to stabilise the situation without too much fuss.’
‘A modern woman … how … wonderful!’ The good humour slipped from Jasper’s face and Marcus gave a chuckle.
‘Try not to beat his pretty face too grievously,’ he bantered. ‘I’ll ask Marge to get the first-aid kit ready.’ Marcus’ amusement doubled as he left to change.
‘He’s special, isn’t he?’ Jasper’s comment had a cynical tone, as he moved to the bar trolley where a few bottles of champagne were on ice.
‘Yes, he is,’ Riane agreed, sincerely.
‘It makes me very happy to hear you say so,’ Jasper assured her, popping the cork on a bottle and pouring them both a glass. He then eyed her over and groaned as if tortured by her appearance. ‘My girls certainly enhanced your beauty to perfection. Marcus is to be envied indeed.’
Riane squirmed, aroused by his engaging compliments and the way his eyes undressed her, as indeed Marcus’s had — this seemed to be the only trait they had in common. And being super-aware of not wearing knickers wasn’t helping matters any. ‘Surely four women is enough, Jasper.’ She found herself a lounge chair to sit on, although her dress flowed over its arms.
Jasper smiled as he delivered her drink to her, almost as if he knew what was whirling around in her head. ‘None of them are complaining … so far as I’m aware.’ He held up his glass to toast Riane. ‘Here’s to your eternal good health and happiness.’
For some strange reason, she found the toast disturbing, or perhaps it was just the way he’d said it — as if he knew something she didn’t.
‘You don’t like my toast.’ Jasper seemed hurt and eager to save face. ‘Then how about, to a mighty excellent evening.’ He squatted playfully beside her chair. ‘With lots of drinking, feasting, merriment and love.’ He clinked his glass against hers, holding her gaze with his own bold, adoring stare.
As Riane swallowed the chilled champagne, she was burning from the tip of her crown to her pelvis — Jasper’s charisma was like being exposed to a raging furnace.
A hot-blooded male will ward away the cold. Arabella’s words came back to haunt her. He’s hot to trot.
Riane was tempted to retreat from the room to escape Jasper’s attention, but was saved the trouble when his girls arrived.
‘Ah … ladies.’ He rose and wandered off to kiss them all in turn.
‘Marcus is on his way down,’ Marion informed Jasper, when she’d been given her share of him. The Celtic maiden then headed toward Riane to report, ‘He’s wearing a kilt.’ She winked, excited for Riane, before whispering, ‘That seems to open up all kinds of possibilities to you.’
Riane had always thought herself rather risqué but these girls were shameless, and she had to admit that the expectation they were weaving around this seduction was extremely compelling.
Not in all her born days did Riane think that she would find a man wearing a kilt sexy, but Marcus’s aristocratic Scottish garb suited him very well.
It was a long tartan kilt that he wore, which fell to below the knee. It was mainly black in colour, with a thin weaving of dark green and white. A black suit jacket crossed and belted at the waist, and a basket-hilted broadsword in its scabbard hung at his side. All that could be seen of the white, pirate-style shirt beneath his coat was the stiff white collar that framed the lord’s handsome face. A tie prevented the garment from falling open.
Riane wasn’t too keen on the beret and was pleased when Marcus discarded it — having at least entered the party in full costume.
‘Are you a pirate this evening, Marcus?’ Rochelle asked, playfully.
‘Aye,’ he replied, allowing his gaze to wander until it fell upon Riane. ‘I’ve come in search of buried treasure.’
‘Ooooh!’ chorused Jasper and his girls in a suggestive strain.
The expensive champagne was having an effect on Riane, who smiled broadly at Marcus’s proposition. ‘You’ve come to the right place, lord … and well buried treasure it is,’ she joked, looking down upon the huge skirts of her dress.
‘It’s just a matter of knowing where to dig.’ Velvet nudged Marcus, as she served Riane a sly wink.
‘Perhaps a guide is what you need?’ Jasper moved to offer his services, whereby his older, larger brother moved him aside.
‘I’ll find my own way, if it’s all the same to you.’ Marcus held out his arm and escorted his lady fair into dinner.
Jasper, delighted to see his brother so enchanted, followed along behind, more than happy with his own lot.
In the grand dining room, warmed by a large open fire, Riane was treated to an evening of complete extravagance. It was as if she’d stepped out of her life and into a fairytale where wishes came true and everything was beautiful, trouble free and abundant.
Marcus’s attentive gaze had Riane sweating inside the heavy velvet dress. Still, her attire did make her feel decidedly goddess-like and very much the seductress. Her average-sized breasts were enhanced by the snug fit of the bodice, which squeezed her breasts together into an amazing cleavage — Riane felt that it could almost be considered false advertising. Every time she caught Marcus’s eyes straying to her neckline she couldn’t help but feel wonderful and desired. Tonight he would make love to her, of that Riane was certain.
Once the feasting had wound down to a nibble, and all the dessert bowls that had contained a rich chocolate cake with raspberry sauce and cream were pushed aside, a recital began.
Jasper opened the doors through to the music room, where he took a seat at the piano and began to play. Marion took up the harp, Velvet the cello, Rochelle the flute and Arabella began to sing in the voice of a diva. It was neither modern music they were performing, nor traditional, nor classical; it was a haunting, erotic pagan-sounding melody, casting the ambience of an otherworldly spell upon the evening and enhancing the olde-world romance of their masquerade.
‘Care to stretch your legs?’ Marcus rose from his seat and offered Riane his hand.
That’s a polite way of putting it, Riane thought as she stood, gracing Marcus with a warm smile of acceptance. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for the performance to end?’ She didn’t want to seem rude.
‘I don’t think you really want to catch the finale.’ Marcus motioned with his eyes toward the piano.
Riane, looking at the musicians, saw that Arabella had begun to disrobe as she sang her siren song to Jasper. Riane must have appeared a little shocked as her
eyes quickly darted back to her host, because he smiled broadly and reassuringly.
‘I have arranged a less public place to conclude our evening if you would care to withdraw at this stage?’ He queried, already knowing her response.
The house contained a turret room with which Riane was unfamiliar, as her guided tour had been cut short by Jasper’s arrival.
The small fireplace therein had been lit and a drink trolley was positioned close by with tea, after-dinner spirits and sweet delights awaiting their selection. One half of the wall space in the round room was a giant bookcase, filled from floor to ceiling — the timber ceiling was at least two storeys high — with the literature of the ages. A giant ladder slid on a track around this part of the room to grant access to the wealth of knowledge. The most stunning feature of this exquisite room was the large bay window seat, completely circular and upholstered in deep red velvet.
‘This is my study,’ Marcus advised his awestruck guest. ‘It is my favourite room in the whole house.’
Riane struggled to keep herself from gasping, and from shedding tears of delight lest her make-up ran. ‘Oh Marcus … it’s absolutely beautiful!’
‘And is all the more so for your presence.’ He took up both her hands and stared deep into her eyes.
Riane was so overwhelmed by the romance of it all that she had almost stopped breathing. Dear God, let him kiss me, she cried inside, believing she would die from anticipation if he teased her any longer. His silence, and the distance between them, seemed suddenly too vast for her liking, and Riane rushed to close the gap, her lips sinking into a deep and blissful union with his. Marcus released her hands, whereupon his touch graced her body and made it tremble with the desire she felt. Riane barely noticed as Marcus backed her up to the bay window seat, but as she felt it behind her legs, she lowered herself on to it. His kiss trailed down her neck and toward her breasts, as the lord lowered himself on to his knees. His hands found their way up beneath her skirts to her lower legs. His fingers trailed up the outside of her legs all the way to her bare thighs. Riane released a pleasured groan, and as she fumbled to unlace the front of her dress for him, Marcus suddenly sank to the ground and disappeared beneath her skirt. Her legs were gently eased apart and his wet tongue and lips explored the in-between, heightening her pleasure to a state of sheer ecstasy. Using her hands as support, Riane leaned back to appreciate the surges of delight that rushed through her body in waves ever more intense. As she raced toward orgasm, Marcus suddenly emerged from beneath her dress, and noting the slack laces of her bodice, he pried the neckline apart to expose her breasts and make his mouth and fingers familiar with them.
‘Enter me, Marcus, please,’ she whispered, amid her delirium, ‘or I fear I shall surely die.’
Marcus’s attention diverted to her face, and as he positioned himself between her legs his erection made contact with the warm moistness of her pleasure. ‘The truth of the matter is, Riane, that just the opposite is true.’
She had never seen Marcus appear more serious, but perhaps this was just how he was when impassioned. ‘I would gladly die to have you inside of me,’ she replied, and she meant what she said. ‘Do it, with my blessing.’ She wrapped her legs around him and encouraged his penetration.
‘Oh god,’ he gasped, aroused and pained at once, as he refrained from entering her. ‘I love you, Riane,’ he swore, rather desperate about the fact. ‘So much so, that I will not deceive you into my fold.’ He withdrew from between her legs, but maintained the embrace.
‘No, Marcus, please!’ She begged him to continue. ‘I don’t care about anything else —’
‘Your life means something to you, I take it?’ he challenged. ‘This is, in reality, only a stolen moment of solace, Riane. The truth is, you are dying and I am already dead. To claim you now would be nothing short of murder.’
Was he speaking metaphorically? ‘What are you trying to say?’ Riane forced a smile in an attempt to be patient and understanding.
Marcus raised his hand and placed his palm against her forehead. Instantly, in a blinding flash, a biting frost gripped her body and chilled it to the bone.
The cloudy night sky above came into focus as it sprinkled snowflakes down upon her shivering form. Every inch of her prickled with the pain of the cold and every breath was an agonising experience.
There is still a chance to save yourself.
She heard Marcus’s voice in her mind and it sounded so distant it was frightening. I don’t understand. She could only think the words, for her mouth would not respond. Casting her gaze around her, it seemed that she was lying amid the ruins of a manor, at the front door to be exact. Then, looking down upon her person, Riane found that she was dressed in the gear that she had been wearing when she’d left her car. No! Please, Marcus, it isn’t true. Why are you torturing me like this?
I’m a one-way ticket to nowhere. To stay with me would condemn you to an eternity in limbo. There is still life left in you, Riane, and many more lives will follow this one, even if you fail to save yourself this time. But you must try … do not die of your own will.
Riane attempted to move her frozen carcass and was surprised when it showed signs of life, but in this bleak situation she could find nothing to motivate her to save herself. Even reflecting on her life in its entirety, there was nothing to compare with the bliss she was being encouraged to leave behind. None of her previous encounters had ever come close to rivalling the intensity of what she had come to feel for this man. If ghosts did not reincarnate, as Marcus was suggesting, then even in the next life she could not hope to find him again. Only in this twilight of her dying soul would she ever be able to be near him. She thought back over her time with Marcus and all the opportunities he’d had to make love to her — now she realised why he’d refrained.
I cannot ask you relinquish every life to come and all the children you will never have, for a never-changing existence, alone with me.
Do you even have to ask? Can’t you feel my heart’s resolve?
And the resolve of your head is once again overlooked. The white waif from her nightmares came to stand over Riane, looking down on her dying form with disappointment. Only now did she see the waif for the ghost she truly was, for her form was transparent and her words resounded through the inner space of Riane’s mind … How pathetic. So much for not needing a man in your life to feel complete.
‘Look who’s talking.’ Riane forced out the words, although they were muffled, as her mouth would barely move.
I’m trying to save your life! the spirit snarled, as if Riane was an idiot. I thought you might turn out to be smarter than the others. I keep warning you girls and you keep refusing to listen.
‘I should have listened to the white waif.’ Riane recalled what Arabella had said, realising that perhaps she hadn’t been trying to spook her, but rather warn her.
Don’t make the same mistake we’ve all made.
‘I’m not!’ she barked — now Riane’s mouth was working. ‘Your mistake was marrying a man you didn’t love, instead of holding true to the man you did.’
He was dead, the waif explained simply. I let go of that guilt long ago.
The statement did not sway Riane’s conviction. ‘Not even death will stop me from loving him … fear not, I will not make your mistake.’
My mistake, the waif defended, was loving another more than I valued my own life … sound familiar?
‘If you were so concerned about my welfare, then why the hell did you land me in this position in the first place?’ Riane grew frustrated with confronting the weakness in herself, which she always chose to ignore. ‘If you hadn’t caused me to crash —’
It was not I who forced you off the road, the waif informed her bluntly. Still, life is full of these little tests, Riane. We lost souls are not completely useless. It is our purpose to test the living. She became rather adamant. This is your chance to break free of the emotional treadmill that blinds you to finding your true calling in l
ife. Will you take it? Or will you throw your entire future away to fulfil a fantasy? For dreams and destiny are not always the same?
‘You’re just trying to keep me away from the man with whom you are obsessed! And if you think I’m just going to nick off back into the land of the living and leave the love of my life to be taunted by the likes of you for all time, then I believe that you are seriously mistaken.’ Riane stretched out in her freezing blanket of snow and waited for Marcus to retrieve her.
I do still love him, despite our history, that is true … but I do not love him more than the future I forfeited in a moment of emotional turmoil. The sound of a dog barking in the distance made the ghost-bride smile. Fate seems to be on your side, Riane. It looks as though the land of the living has come for you.
The waif vanished and the sound of muffled voices in the distance struck the fear of God into Riane’s heart. ‘Please, Marcus,’ she begged, ‘take me now before they find me.’ Icy tears trickled over her frozen ears and she yearned to be returned to the warmth of his presence. Please don’t damn me to an eternity without you. She closed her eyes to conjure the image of his face, which filled her heart to overflowing as she remembered instances of his kindness and comfort. What do I have to do to prove my love to you? Must I, too, throw myself off a cliff? I will! So help me God, Marcus, if I survive this day I shall kill myself tomorrow and pray my damned soul can find it’s way back to you. Marcus! ‘Marcus!’
‘There she is!’ a voice called out in the distance as a flashlight was shone in her direction from beyond the old rusted gate. The light from another torch penetrated the branches of the trees that lined the curved drive leading up to the manor.
Their utterances became muffled, as Riane’s whole world slipped into slow motion. I don’t want to live, I don’t want to die … I’m already in limbo.