Midnight Curse

Zanne Farrell

Midnight Curse All Hallow’s Eve By Zanne Farrell

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The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Midnight Curse Copyright (c) 2005 by Zanne Farrell Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Sable Grey All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law . Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Dedication:

To Jon, thank you. Thanks to the Wild Writers for their continued support and encouragement. To my editor for putting up with such a newbie. And to Marianne LaCroix for taking a chance on an “inspirational erotica” writer.

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Prologue

St. Augustine, FL, 1875 “And just what did you hope to accomplish?” Griffin brushed at his water-soaked front and silently cursed. The woman was insane. Delicious, but crazy as a loon. “Mock me all you want, Griffin Ferguson, but understand this.” Constance Le Fleur squinted her emerald eyes and tossed her fiery hair. The bowl she carried hung loose by her side, the last of its contents dripped onto the cobbled street and pooled at her feet. “I curse you to wander the halls of Chateau Le Fleur for all eternity, invisible and silent. Day after day, night after night, you will be alone.” A wide sweep with her hand made Griffin look back at the family home she spoke of. There were worse places to be condemned to live out eternity. The way his life had been going of late, the confines of the Le Fleur home seemed better than the blazing alternative. If Griffin believed the rumors that Constance was an actual witch and could curse him. Lucky for him he didn’t. He wouldn’t have courted her if he did. Constance moved closer to him. Her musky scent filled his senses. His cock grew hard and his heart beat wildly. Hold on there old boy. Let’s not forget what got you in this mess. Lust, pure and simple. Had he refrained from sleeping with Constance’s younger sister, he wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the street covered in God only knew what. He sighed and brushed at the bits of debris that clung to his waistcoat. Constance poked her finger in his chest. “The only chance you have to break the curse is sun down to sun up on All Hallows Eve.” Griffin chuckled. “You think you’re such a ladies man, Griffin Ferguson. We’ll see about that. Three hundred and sixty four days out of the year your charm, good looks, and enticing accent will do you no good. No one will be able to see you or hear you. But for those few brief hours on All Hallows Eve, if you can convince the owner of the manor to sleep 5

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with you before the dawn of All Saints Day, you will be free.” She placed her hand on the curve of her hip. The urge to lick his lips was overwhelming. Instead, he shook his head. This seemed quite excessive for jealousy. He was good, damn good, but these theatrics were comical. A quick slap on the face, a knee to the groin, a man expected such things. But this? “You think my brogue is enticing now do ye?” He smiled and the hairs on his chin scraped his hand as he rubbed his jaw line. “Are ye done with me now?” A carriage pulled up next to him and the man sitting in the driver’s seat gave a hearty greeting, “Are you okay, Mr. Ferguson? Anything I can assist you with, sir?” Griffin gave Constance a final glance before turning to the driver. “Yes, James, you can. Take me to the nearest pub. I could use a pint or two.” Turning, he winked at Constance and laughed. Crazy or not, the woman was beautiful. And feisty. He liked that about her. He would do best to remember never to bed the sister of his fiancé. He’d not be making that mistake again. “Cursed,” he said, shaking his head. He opened the door and gave Constance a final glance. Something in her eyes made him shiver. “Did you say something, sir?” “No, James. I did not.” Sinking in the seat he let the steady sway of the carriage lull him. Cursed indeed.

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Chapter One

St. Augustine, FL, Present Day “I don’t care what time it is. I need someone over here and I need them here now!” Amanda Haley paced the small kitchen and ran her hand through her hair. Why was everything always so difficult? “But Ms. Haley.” Amanda rolled here eyes. Here we go again. “It’s almost sundown and it’s Halloween. I don’t know that I can get anyone out there. If we’d been…” Slowly, she counted to ten. Losing her temper wouldn’t do her any good. Calm and cool, that was the best way to deal with this. She rubbed her temple and started counting again. No need to take any chances. Tomorrow was too important. Nothing, least of all her temper, would keep her or Chateau Le Fleur from making a good impression on the State Historical Society. “Mr. Adams. I understand it’s late but if you remember correctly, I called you two weeks ago about this.” Dead silence answered her. Finally, a long drawn out sigh, followed by his throat being cleared gave Amanda her answer. She punched her fist in the air. Gotcha. “All right, Ms. Haley.” The tone of his voice could have cut glass. “I’ll get someone out there as soon as I can.” “Thank you Mr. Adams.” With the phone hung up, Amanda leaned into the granite counter top and smiled. The shape of the hedges lining the driveway more than likely wouldn’t be a deal breaker, but she wanted everything perfect. Inside and out. All around her, the house sparkled. The cleaning service worked alongside her day after day. The place was scrubbed, polished and buffed. The smell of lemon and bleach hung in the air. “Oh, Gram.” Tears welled in her eyes. “If you have any pull up there I could really use some help right about now.” Amanda looked skyward and smiled. 7

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She’d only inherited the house a little over two months ago. Her grandma’s death, although not surprising for a woman in her late eighties, still shocked her. And the cost of maintaining such a house. Sure she’d done well in New York, but she was in Florida now. Now was her chance to do more pro bono and advocacy work. Work that would make her feel good about being an attorney. She’d dreamed about such an opportunity. But her salary would be cut in half. A fourth even. Amanda shook her head and swallowed down the burning lump that had worked into her throat. No way could she do it alone. If she could get the home listed with the state historical society, her problems would be solved. Well, not solved, exactly. The matching funds from the state, however, would make up-keep and maintenance a hell of a lot easier. Pushing from the counter, she walked to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of White Zin and grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard. It was Halloween, getting dark and she lived in an old house. The possibilities for pranks were endless. And she didn’t feel like dealing with trick-or-treaters. A hot bath, some soft candlelight, and wine—lots of wine—were about all she could handle. She’d worked like a slave getting the house ready. Every muscle in her body ached. A nice hot soak was exactly what she needed. With the bottle and glass in one hand, she walked up the grand staircase letting her free hand trail along the polished wood railing. So many memories floated around her. She’d visited the old house every summer for as long as she could remember. Long, lazy summer days were spent exploring the grounds surrounding the house, helping her grandmother in the garden or the kitchen. Amanda had grown up in the house. Had her first crush and her first kiss there. A smile spread wide on her face. Yes, she’d definitely grown up during those long summer visits. Something could be said for hot, steamy nights and cool, ocean breezes. She winked at the painting of the gorgeous guy hanging on in the hallway. Who he was, she didn’t know. Dark, sexy and mysterious, he’d spent many nights filling her dreams with wild and crazy escapades. If there’d been people around, she’d have blushed. The fact that her dream life was far more exciting than her real life seemed a little pathetic. No, it was a lot pathetic. She really needed a boyfriend. The familiar tug at her heart stopped her in her tracks. 8

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Oh, Gram. Why did you have to leave me? First her parents and then her Grandma. Feeling completely alone, tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back. No more crying. Enough. Walking to the end of the hallway, she entered the large bathroom. After setting the wine and glass on the vanity she drew a bath. The scent of peaches floated around her as she shook the bubble bath into the filling tub. What if the state didn’t accept her house? What if she had to deal with it all on her own? Her stomach cramped. Inhaling deeply, she let the soft aroma from the bath fill her senses and she instantly calmed. She had done all she could. It was out of her hands. Lighting candles littered around the large airy room, she tried to think of anything other than her meeting with the historical representative in the morning. The air in the room was cool. Goose bumps covered her flesh and her nipples hardened. Undressed, she stepped into the bath, and let out a long sigh. As she submerged each muscle group into the warm water, her tension seemed to melt away with each ripple. Grabbing her glass and wine, she poured. “To you and the house, Gram,” she said, and raised her glass. Taking a long slow sip, the last of her stress evaporated with the steam. With a slow slide, she lowered into the water and closed her eyes. God the wine tasted good. Oh yes, tonight there would definitely be serious consumption. Behind the door, what sounded like a wrap of knuckles against the old wood paneling made her jump. Amanda chuckled. “Hearing ghosts again, eh Mandy?” She drained her drink in one gulp and poured another, sinking lower in the water. “Ghosts,” she said and sipped her second glass. She did need to be on her game in the morning. A hangover would not make a great impression. **** Griffin watched the sun sink lower and lower on the horizon. The beat of his heart seemed to quicken with each passing second. Odd, since he’d been dead for over a hundred twenty five years and hadn’t had a heartbeat for that long. He turned away from the window and walked toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. On the other side of the door lounged his ticket to freedom. Amanda Haley. Tonight he would finally be free. 9

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His pace quickened. His body, once light and ethereal grew heavy as he took shape. Bone, muscle and tissue solidified with each step. Soon he would be fully formed and fully visible. The hard wood floors beneath his step were a welcome change to the airy feel of nothing he experienced three hundred and sixty four days out of the year. He stopped outside the bathroom. Taking a brief moment he pressed his hand into his chest. The flesh beneath his touch sent a wave of excitement racing through him. He lightly wrapped his knuckles against the wood paneled wall. The hollow thud fell like lead to the floor and silenced instantly. He’d been alone for so long. Amanda was the first owner in all his years who wasn’t made aware of his curse and its undoing. Her lack of knowledge didn’t bother him. He’d been given a gift, a chance. And he would take it. Amanda would give him his freedom. How hard could it be for a man like him to seduce a mere mortal woman?

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Chapter Two

Griffin paused outside the bathroom door. For some reason, he hesitated opening the door. It had been far too long since he’d been with a woman. Sure, he still knew what to do. Of course he did. He was a man. A very virile, albeit dead, man. In fact, he’d visited Amanda in her dreams. He knew what she liked. Intimately. Something Griffin had never felt before wiggled in his gut. Did he doubt himself? He ran his hands through his hair. Was he afraid? Beguiling Amanda in her dreams was one thing. That had been easier than taking candy from a baby. But now he was in her world. Could he seduce her? Entice her enough to want to make love with him? And what would that be like? Would he be able to feel her? Smell her? Panic began to take a hold of his chest. So many years he had planned for this moment. So many endless days he’d roamed the halls of this monstrous home waiting for someone to come along who wouldn’t shun him. What if he failed? Something very similar to sadness sliced though his chest. He felt emotions? He pinched his arm and flinched. Pain. Remarkable. He was practically human. Now this would be easy. Pushing the door, he froze in his tracks. The sight of Amanda slouched low in the bath, her fiery hair piled high on her head, bubbles floating lazily around her body stole his breath—if he had any to steal. But he did. Air filled his long stilled lungs. And his cock hardened. He wanted to jump, scream, something. He was human again. The soft glow of candlelight and steam softened the room and made Griffin’s heart flutter. Wait, his heart fluttered. He put his hand to his chest and felt the steady beat. Alive? Could it be possible? There would be nothing stopping him now. With deliberate steps, he walked into the room and closed the door, his confidence level soaring. If he was truly human than Amanda didn’t stand a chance. Oh, 11

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little one, it hardly seems fair. Leaning against the door he drank in the sight of her, let his eyes feast on her beauty. Oh no, the poor thing didn’t stand a chance. Let the games begin. **** The water rippling around her body felt like a lover’s touch, soft and sensual. So seductive and consuming, Amanda didn’t want it to stop. “Hello, my darling.” She turned to the sound of the voice, her eyes closed. The wine had obviously gone straight to her head, or she’d fallen asleep and this was another dream. She’d had a lot of them lately. The voice sounded the same, deep and sexy. It danced across her skin before it seeped into her body and tickled her core. Hypnotic. Enthralling. She could listen to that voice all day. With great effort, she slowly opened her eyes. The swagger in his step was unmistakable. It was him, the man from her dreams. He moved toward her like sex incarnate. His white shirt hung loose across his broad shoulders. With each step, the fabric of his pants clung to his narrow hips and muscular thighs. His dark hair curled around an angular face. And the look in his blue eyes was one of pure sin. Amanda let out a long sigh. God, she loved this dream. She dropped her head back and closed her eyes. With any luck, tonight she wouldn’t wake up until she was satisfied. After each of the others, she’d been left to take care of herself. Frustrated and desperate, she’d gotten real close to her dildo these past several weeks. Tonight she wanted, no needed to experience him--completely. It was his breath that touched her first. Hot and moist, it caressed her cheek sending a floodgate of sensations racing through her body. Trembling, she exhaled a deep, throaty moan. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said. His words lapped at her ears and the timbre of his voice resonated through her. It was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard. She smiled and opened her eyes. “So do you.” His blue eyes looked the color of an early morning sky in the flickering candlelight. Gazing into them, she felt herself fall, and her mind spun wildly out of control. What she saw in them, behind the dazzling color, was desire. A desire so deep and so real, it shook her very foundation. Her channel clenched and her toes curled. 12

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Need, like a feline waking from a deep sleep, uncurled and stretched in her abdomen. How long had it been since she’d been with a man? Too long. “This dream is already better than the others,” she murmured as he lightly kissed her cheek. When his lips touched her flesh, liquid fire moved across her skin. Her body became one live nerve, exposed and raw. Oh yes, this dream was much better than the others. And with any luck, it would only get better. **** Griffin had to rein in his desire and keep himself from stripping and taking her that very minute. Every cell in his body begged for nothing less. The urgency to feel himself buried deep inside her lush body consumed, and nearly overtook him. But he kept it at bay. It had been so long ago, but he was quite sure that in order to break the curse the woman had to be a willing partner. Taking advantage of someone who believed him nothing more than a figment of her imagination would do him no good. He needed her cooperation and understanding. The way her skin trembled beneath his touch told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her. “This is no dream, my darling. This is real.” He kissed her cheek again. Her skin was soft, like velvet against his lips. When he suckled her ear, she tasted like sweet ambrosia, nectar of the gods. Inhaling, he took her scent deep into his lungs. She smelled like peaches and cream, one of his favorite desserts when he’d been alive. His stomach tilted as she filled his senses. The candlelight cast a warm glow to her beautiful, red hair. Piled on her head, it looked as if threads of gold were woven through it. He lifted her chin and looked deep in to her emerald eyes. They sparkled like precious gems in the flickering light. Heat raced through his body and ended at his cock. It hardened and strained against the fabric of his pants. God how he loved to feel. To experience. Like an erupting volcano, emotions spewed into his gut. Need. Lust. Desire. They flooded him, one after the other, each one hotter, more intense than the other, until he felt he would drown. And he relished it. “Right,” she whispered. Her eyes closed again, and a slow smile spread on her face. “Real.” 13

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How to make her believe. Looking around the room, he imagined ways to help his dilemma. When all he wanted was to get naked and join her in the bath, he struggled to concentrate. And then it came to him. His answer. Standing, he untucked the shirt from his pants. “Look at me Amanda.” When she opened her eyes, he lifted his shirt over his head and let the light cotton fabric fall to the floor. The air on his naked flesh made him shudder. His muscles contracted. The fastener on his pants came undone easily and he pushed them over his hips to crumble around his feet on the floor. Naked was so freeing. He’d been stuck in his clothes for an eternity. Eyes wide, Amanda gasped. Her gaze felt like a gentle touch as it moved over his shoulders, chest, and stomach. Smiling, he walked to the tub and extended his hand. Oh, he would convince her he was real and make her beg for his touch, his body. Or he’d die trying—again.

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Chapter Three

This had to be a dream, right? Albeit a very detailed, exciting dream, a dream nonetheless. Amanda ran her fingernail deep along the inside of her arm and flinched. Nope not a dream, she was awake. So drunk? Could she really be drunk on two glasses of wine? She doubted it. But there he was, the man from the painting, from her dreams, standing before her. Naked. Panic started building in her chest. She was naked too. “I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but I think it’s best if you leave.” Wrapping her arms around her chest did very little to alleviate her discomfort. She was still naked. And he still stared at her like a starving man and she was a five-course meal. “Amanda.” His hand still outstretched, she fought the urge to take it. “No. I don’t know you. Leave.” “You do know me…thoroughly.” The way he said “thoroughly” sent a shiver racing down her spine. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She didn’t dare meet his gaze. The fear of what would happen to her if she looked deep into those sky blue pools made her tremble. He chuckled. The sound spread itself across her like an open palm. “But you do.” “Who are you?” Something compelled her to ask. When she should be running to the nearest exit, all she wanted was information. This man who’d haunted her dreams. “I am Griffin Ferguson.” Small lines appeared at the corners of his eyes and he gave a slight bow of his head. His smile widened and he took a step toward her. Oddly, Amanda didn’t move back. “Why are you in my home, Mr. Ferguson?” When every fiber in her body wanted nothing more than to be filled with every fiber of his, she stood her ground. 15

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“Now that is a tale.” The lilt of his accent skipped around the room. She hadn’t noticed it before. Scottish? English? Whatever it was, she liked it. “Tell me.” She reached for a towel. Naked, she felt to exposed, vulnerable. She needed more barriers between them. The towel tucked snuggly around her body, she sat on the edge of the tub and crossed her leg. Griffin leaned a hip against the vanity and sighed. “Now you have to keep an open mind,” he started. Any conversation that began with such a statement was never good. Amanda braced herself. “I live in this house.” He looked at everything in the room but her. Another bad sign. “You live here.” “Live might not be the correct terminology, now. I guess I’m more trapped here than anything.” “I see. You’re trapped in my Grandmother’s centuries old family home. Interesting.” “It is, isn’t it? “And how did this entrapment happen?” Amanda tried to control the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. It all became clear. He was a crazy man who’d escaped from an institution somewhere. Even as the idea moved through her mind, her body remained hyperaware of his proximity to her, and that he was still very, beautifully naked. Her hardened nipples reminded her of that fact in case she’d forgotten. She hadn’t. “I was cursed by my former fiancé’ over a century ago.” A laugh escaped from Amanda’s mouth and echoed around the room. “Really. Wow. That would make you…” she stopped when he didn’t join in her laughter. He was serious. “A ghost,” he finished for her. “A ghost,” she repeated. If he was a ghost, she was Angelina Jolie. “You don’t look like any ghost I’ve ever seen.” “And how many have you seen besides me?” Amanda stared at him. There was nothing about the man that screamed “ghost” to her. His flesh was tan and firm, his hair dark and lush, his lips… she swallowed a moan. His lips were full and very kissable. She touched her cheek where they’d pressed 16

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into her only a few moments before. No, the man in front of her was very much solid and alive. “As I said, my name is Griffin Ferguson. I was born in Glasgow, Scotland on August 31, 1845.” Amanda gasped. As much as she didn’t want to believe him, the way he spoke, so direct and firm, made her want to hear more. “I moved to America as a young man searching for my fortune.” “Really. Now this is very interesting.” Sarcasm dripped from each word. Amanda repositioned herself on the edge of the tub. The towel dropped and she immediately covered herself. “Aye.” He winked and heat rose in her cheeks. “How did you end up in St. Augustine?” Griffin crossed his arms and his ankles. His eyes locked with hers and for just a moment, she thought she saw panic behind the façade of cool. But what would he have to be panicked about? That she didn’t believe him? She’d call the cops? That she’d have him locked up for insanity? All were valid concerns but none very likely to happen. He may be a loon, but she felt safe with him. “I was working as a salesman, textiles, and I ended up here. Nothing too dramatic. While here I’d managed to meet and upset the lovely Miss Constance Le Fleur.” “The owner of this house?” The connection to him and the house now made sense. It would still be in the Le Fleur family if Amanda’s great grandfather hadn’t won the place in a hand of poker. “The very one. Anyway, I courted her and…” Amanda held her breath. She’d gotten herself lost in his story. “And what?” “And I ended up in a compromising position with her sister.” “Very nice.” “No, not nice at all.” He sighed and scratched his temple. “It was an accident, really. I’d had a wee too much to drink and, well, I have to say, the Le Fleur women all look similar by candlelight.” He chuckled quietly. “Of course I should have guessed I was with the wrong sister when she made advances on me. Constance wasn’t like that. Constance was a lady.” He said the word “lady” like he spoke of an idol or saint. Like the curse placing Le Fleur was someone to be admired. 17

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“That doesn’t explain how you ended up being trapped here for over a hundred years.” “You don’t believe me.” He pushed from the vanity and walked toward her. Amanda didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her vocal chords froze in her throat as he moved toward her. Fluid and smooth, his muscles rippled as he walked. No, he was definitely not like any ghost she’d ever heard of. The Discovery Channel had it all wrong. “I’m sorry, Griffin, but you have to admit. This all sounds a little insane.” That would have to go down as the understatement of the day. She was working on her tact, though. It seemed much more polite than saying, “I don’t believe your story even one fraction of an inch. In fact, I think you’re a freakin’ nut job.” “Come with me,” he held out his hand and without giving it a second thought, Amanda reached for it. His palm was warm, hot even, as his fingers entwined with hers. “Where are we going?” He moved quickly out of the bathroom and into the long hall. It seemed to Amanda that all she did was blink and they were on the landing at the top of the stairs. Wherever they were headed, Griffin was in a hurry. Amanda barely had time to breathe let alone ask what they were doing. With great force, he pressed on a panel in the wall. Much to Amanda’s surprise, the wall opened and a hidden staircase appeared. It was on no house plans that she’d examined. As fast as lightning, Griffin took the stairs two at a time. Naked. Amanda, still in her towel, clasped the cotton fabric to keep it from falling. She kept her eyes looking at her feet keep from staring at his firm butt moving in front of her. She’d never been much of a butt girl, give her eyes and good hair any day, but Griffin had a nice one, all firm and round. It took all her concentration not to drool over it. At the top, there was a door that Griffin opened by leaning into it. The room it opened into was old and dusty with a faint glow of light, like candle light, coming from somewhere to her left. The smell of dust and mothballs inundated her as she moved into the small space. “What is this room? I’ve never seen it before.” Griffin didn’t answer. He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her into the center. The air around them was heavy with humidity. Her skin became slick in a thin sheen of sweat. “There, look,” Griffin said and pointed to a small table set against one all. 18

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“What is it?” “Please, look at it.” The plea in his voice caused her to move. The floorboards creaked as she walked to the table. Around her the light increased, casting an eerie glow in the old room. The walls were covered with aging fabric of what she could only guess was once red and white flowers. In the center of the tiny table was an old piece of parchment. Words scribed in beautiful calligraphy adorned the yellowing page. The light not nearly bright enough, Amanda strained to read the words. “What is this?” she asked again, turning to look at Griffin. There was no mistaking the fear she read on his expression. No denying the stiffness of his stance, the set of his jaw. “Read it.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “I can’t. It’s too dark.” Oil lamps that she hadn’t noticed, brightened. There were several mounted around the room. Reading the beautifully scripted page, her breath caught in her chest. Everything he’d said, every little bit of it was on the page. A ghost. Griffin. And she had the power to free him by, of all things, sleeping with him. At that moment, Amanda wished she were the fainting type. Although the room shifted slightly under her feet, she stood firm. Only the catch in her breath indicated her emotions. The awkwardness of the situation hung in the air like a heavy mist. “Now do you believe me?” Griffin asked. He’d walked up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. The heat from his touch penetrated her fleshed and spread through her body. “How can I feel you? I can feel your touch as real as I can feel my own.” She didn’t dare look at him. The knowledge of their circumstances dawned on her. He was a ghost. She could release him from his curse. “I don’t know the answer to that. This…this…” he moved his hands about himself. “…feeling is all new.” He sounded as exasperated as she felt. “All I know, Amanda, is I want to be free.” He looked into her eyes. Behind the sparkle, the beauty, and the need she saw the years of loneliness and pain. The endless hours, weeks, decades of sheer misery were as easy to read as a children’s book.

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“I’ll do it,” she said. How could she not? It wasn’t like she’d never slept with him. She had. So many times she’d lost count. He’d visited her night after night, exploring her body, sharing his. And then it hit her. “They weren’t dreams, were they? All those nights.” “No.” He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “They weren’t just dreams.” “Could you feel me?” closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch. “No. I could only imagine what it felt like when I touched you here.” He ran his finger along the edge of the towel, skimming the tops of her breasts and she trembled. “Or tasting you here.” He leaned into her and nibbled the nape of your neck. “Oh, so much better than I imagined,” he said and filled his lungs. “I knew you’d smell like this. Sweetness, with a hint of spice.” Griffin inhaled deeply into her hair. The ends of her fingers tingled, her channel clenched and her nipples peaked. Need boiled in her gut. Every nerve in her body was raw and ready for him to tease, take, and consume her. Resting her head on his shoulder, she drew in a breath. He smelled male, all musk and sandalwood. Not what she’d expected. But then how does a ghost smell? The strength of his arms as they cocooned her in an embrace comforted her. She too had been alone for so long. After her parents died she’d thrown herself into her work. As an up and coming attorney in New York, it wasn’t all that hard to do. Long hours at the office gave her little chance for a social life. Exactly how she’d wanted it. But what was she hiding from? Love? Commitment? “You feel a million miles a way, darlin’.” He lifted her from his chest and looked into her eyes. “Where are you?’ Amanda’s heart skipped a beat. She swallowed hard. Dare she tell him? “I was just thinking that I shouldn’t be surprised that I finally find a man I care about and he turns out to be a ghost.” Griffin kissed the tip of her nose and smiled, not saying a word.

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Chapter Four

Griffin knew all to well what Amanda felt because he felt the same way. For over a century his mind filled with nothing more than freeing himself from the confines of this bloody house. And now? Now he could feel. He had the ability to smell, taste and touch. Bland sex with someone, anyone, was easy. But this? He’d spent years watching Amanda, knowing someday he’d have a chance to seduce her. But never in his wildest imaginings did the scene play out this way. He looked at her, her eyes shining brightly, her hair a fiery mound on her head. Could he simply make love to her knowing it would be the last time he ever felt anything? The last time he would ever see her? Wrapping her in his arms he struggled with the emotions bludgeoning him. Utter sadness seemed to be winning the war, filling him, squeezing his heart. Suddenly, it didn’t seem possible to make love to her and leave. “I can’t do it,” he finally said. “What?” She pulled away from him, her eyes wide. “I can’t do this. I was never supposed to be able to feel you. Emotions weren’t part of the bargain. Everything’s changed and I can’t do it, can’t let you do it.” His heart beat heavy in his chest. He could live stuck within this building. And once a year he’d experience her all over again. He suppressed the thought of watching her go on with her life the rest of the year, while he remained invisible and alone. “No. You have to. I can’t live here knowing you’re out there somewhere.” She did a wipe sweep with her hands. The sadness in her eyes clawed at his heart. Nobody in all of his existence looked at him the way Amanda did. She cared. And it made him melt. Made his body turn liquid. “We will make this the best night of our lives.” She smiled and stood. “Come, sit over here.” Pulling him to his feet, she walked him to a chaise lounge. “When was the last time you were really with a woman?” 21

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Griffin didn’t have to stop and think of the answer. “The night before I became cursed.” “When you were with Constance’s sister?” “Aye.” “When did you die?” She leaned down and brushed a wayward curl out of his eyes. Her touch sent bolts of energy racing through his body that ended low in his gut. “That would be the day I became cursed.” He didn’t want to admit to her how he’d had a few too many pints at the pub and staggered out into the street only to be hit by a passing carriage. Or that Constance held the reins of the carriage. Not the tough, manly image he wanted portrayed. “Convenient.” The raise of her left eyebrow told him she thought it more than convenient but said nothing more. Griffin chuckled. “Aye, I suppose it was.” Turning, Amanda walked to the far wall and retrieved a candle. Before returning to him, she lit the wick with one of the oil lamps mounted on the wall. Funny how he’d spent the better part of the past century holed up in this room yet with Amanda here, it looked, smelled, felt nothing like how he’d remembered. Suddenly, everything around him took on her energy, her light. It felt like he was seeing the room for the very first time. “And you say this time is different?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I mean this time you are different from the other Halloweens.” Ah. “Aye. This time I am alive.” Griffin liked how the word sounded as it rolled off his tongue. Alive. He hadn’t been able to say that word for quite some time. “Alive,” Amanda repeated. Her free hand on his shoulder, she straddled his body. First one long leg lifted over him, before she sat lightly in his lap. His cock leapt to attention, as if it wasn’t already on alert. In her right hand, she held the lit taper candle. Her eyes focused on it as she twirled it slowly to keep the wax from spilling over the tiny wax lip and dripping onto his skin. “I want you to feel more than you ever dreamed possible,” she whispered. Her eyes remained focused on the bobbing flame. Griffin sucked in a breath. “Ye do now.” He had no idea what she had in mind. The increased wetness pressed into his shaft told him whatever she had planned for him, 22

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excited her. The pressure mounting in his balls became uncomfortable. Little zaps of electricity moved across his flesh in no particular pattern. God, and she hadn’t even done anything yet. His head fell back and he closed his eyes. “Look at me,” she whispered, ever so quietly. It took him only a moment to obey. As his eyes opened, Amanda let the candle tilt and a tiny trickle of wax fell to his chest. A moan starting somewhere near his toes reverberated through his body. The sensation teetered precariously on the edge of pain but was still so much pleasure he wanted to cry out. “Do you like that?” She nibbled on his ear and let another drop of wax fall. This one landed on his left pec. The sting made his cock spasm. Pinpricks of pleasure skipped along his flesh. He threw his had back and arched into her, pressing his shaft into the slick wet folds of her cleft. Need slammed into his gut and threatened an orgasm right then. “God yes.” He loved it. He hated it. His body was one live nerve. Wave upon wave of heat flooded him. He could no longer think, only feel. His senses overwhelmed him, controlled him. She nipped at his neck and let another drop fall, this one landing on his right nipple. It singed his tender flesh. Amanda blew a cooling breath against the wax and his nipple hardened. Griffon cried out. His muscles involuntarily contracted and released in rapid succession. Need blinded him. To feel her, bury himself deep within the ridged walls of her pussy became more important than breath. God help him. He was losing his mind. She leaned over and licked his other nipple. Another bead of wax fell and he cried again. His blood ran molten in his veins. With each beat of his heart, every cell swelled with desire. His body rippled with pleasure. If he didn’t slide into her soon, he was going to die. And that said something for a ghost. **** Amanda loved the way his body reacted to her. The way it arched and trembled, contorted and stiffened. She especially like the way he pressed his cock into her. She grew wetter by the second. Her sex involuntarily tightened and relaxed. It was as if it demanded the penetration of his cock.

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“Do you want me?” she asked. Gazing into his eyes, it became apparent it was a rhetorical question. His eyes were full of dark need, a hunger. And behind the hunger lingered a promise that what she’d started, he more than gladly finish. “Aye, more than anything.” His accent twisted its way through her body, igniting a thunderstorm of passion she never believed possible. Every nerve in her body pulsed with tingling desire. “Make love to me,” she whispered. The twinkle in his eyes had vanished. In its place, a dark shadow of doubt lingered. “But…” She put her finger to his lips. “No. We both want this. And you…” she brushed at his hair and lightly kissed him, running her tongue along the lush curve his top lip. “…you need this.” Tears welled in his eyes that systematically ripped her heart to shreds. By making love he’d be free and she would be alone. But she’d be alone no matter what. All they had was this time, this place, and this moment. She’d be damned if she let it slip away. “You are so beautiful,” he said cupping her cheek in his hand. “Know that…” “Shhhh.” Leaning into him, she kissed him again. This time, when their lips met, energy sizzled between them. The air around them became charged. The flesh of her lips vibrated and a throaty moan escaped her. Nothing before Griffin had ever felt so right. It was so unfair! She refused to give into her sadness. She wiggled on his lap, trying to maneuver him into her. Beyond ready, her channel trembled in anticipation. With both hands encircling her waist, Griffin lifted her, repositioning her over his readied penis. When his head pushed past her folds and entered her, her body erupted in a firestorm of sensations. Hot. Stretched. Full. Wet. All put her body on the precipice of orgasm. A sound very close to a howl echoed around her as he thrust himself deep inside her. When his sack pressed into her bottom, she cried out, unable to contain her emotions. She felt every inch of him as he slowly pulled out, lifting her as he went. In her she felt full, complete. Out, she was empty, alone. 24

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“Harder,” she growled. She wanted it fast. Her body was ready to explode. Liquid fire seeped from her sheath as it stretched to accept him once again. The smell of musk and sex filled her senses. A long time would pass before she’d forget how he smelled. Only a couple more thrusts and she erupted, her body fragmenting into a millions pieces. Explosions of color ignited around her like a late night fireworks display. The air crackled with their energy. Her head fell between her shoulder blades and she called out his name. Griffin. Her ghost. He thrust one last time before he too erupted, his seed shooting deep within the recess of her body. Molten heat filled her passage as his cock twitched and quivered. Amanda clung to him like he was her life raft in chaotic surf. Every fiber in her body crackled yet her heart was breaking. It was done. He was free. Frightened to look at him, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and pleaded with herself not to cry. “I will find you,” Griffin said, pulling her from him. Still buried inside of her, she felt him twitching as his girth increased once again. Deep within his eyes she saw her sorrow mirrored. “I will travel through time and space to find you again.” He cupped her face with his hands and kissed the lone tear that slid down her skin. God it hurt. Why did it have to hurt so badly? “I promise,” he said. Wrapping her in his arms she rested her head on his chest and let the steady rhythm of his heart comfort her. “Don’t,” she finally said, through the tears that spilled from her eyes. “Please, just don’t.” Gone from her forever, she only had this night to remember him by. The last thing she wanted from him was a broken promise.

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Chapter Five

Amanda woke to the sound of the old doorbell chiming in the hallway. Squinting into the bright light that filtered through the lace curtains of her bedroom window, she scratched her head. What time was it? Places ached on her that she didn’t even know had nerve endings let alone muscles. Around her the air felt charged and alive. There had been so much passion, so much emotion in this house, a mere—she squinted at the clock, eleven a.m.—five hours ago. An all-consuming sadness filled her heart that she was sure, if she wasn’t careful, would swallow her whole. He left her. Forever. Her heart broke all over again. They had walked to her room and made love again. Their bodies filling each others needs perfectly. She had fallen asleep in his arms, cocooned in the warmth of his body. She didn’t know when his departure had happened, just that it had. He had simply vanished. Her ghost. Her love. Gone forever. A tear ran down her cheek and she did nothing to stop it. The doorbell sounded again and she jumped. In no mood to have visitors, she pulled her comforter over her head. Maybe they’d go away. When it rang a third time, she sat. Who could be at the door? With the comforter wrapped around her body she left the bed. A chill in the air made goose bumps appear on her flesh. “Coming!” she called and padded to her closet. No matter how much she didn’t want to see whoever stood on her porch, she couldn’t greet them only wearing her comforter. What kind of impression would that make? Amanda stopped in mid step. “Oh my God!” she cried and ran to her closet. “The historical rep!” How could she have forgotten? 26

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Throwing clothes wildly, she dressed in record speed and ran down the stairs, praying she wouldn’t fall and break her neck. No shower, no makeup. The house would have to sell itself without the help of its new owner. Foregoing a glance in the mirror, she could only imagine how rough she looked. She wiped at her tear-streaked face and hoped she didn’t look nearly as bad as she felt. As an afterthought, she ran her fingers through her hair before opening the front door. “Hello, and…” Her voice caught in her throat. The air around her became heavy and pressed down on her. Standing became difficult. Her mind reeled. The same beautiful dark curls hung loosely around his face, the new growth of beard, and the delicious blue eyes. It was him. Griffin. She shook her head and inhaled deeply. Of course it wasn’t him. He was dead. Gone. She cleared her throat. “Hello,” she repeated. “My name is Griff McAllister. I’m with the State Historical Society.” He extended his hand. Amanda’s heart beat wildly. His voice, the deep sexy timbre stroked her flesh in the most familiar of ways. She pushed at the hair that fell into her eyes. “Griff, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Amanda Hailey. Please, come in.” When their hands touched, a spark arched between them and they both jumped. Amanda regained her composure and smiled. It was him. She was sure of it. Moving to let him pass, his scent wrapped around her like a warm safe blanket. Desire spiraled through her gut. “You have a lovely home,” Griff said as he walked into the foyer. He wore a pale blue golf shirt and khaki’s but his build was undeniable. His muscles rippled as he walked, just as they had the night before. His broad shoulders begged for her touch. Her fingers ached to caress his skin. “Have you been here before?” She rubbed her hands down her black pants. Of course he had. He’d haunted this place for over a century. “No. This is my first visit to St. Augustine.” What? He wrote something on a clipboard he carried. When he raised his head and looked at her, all doubt was lifted. In the depths of his eyes her questions were answered. 27

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It was him. Her Griffin. His blue eyes sparkled and were framed by the same thick lashes. But it was his very being that made it true. His soul. Her heart leapt. “Griff. That’s an unusual name.” Amanda motioned toward the sitting room and followed him when he walked away. Her eyes transfixed on his tight ass. His body cried out to hers and she yearned to answer. He had to feel the pull, the connection they had, didn’t he? “Aye. It’s a family name from my mother’s side. They were from around here, actually.” She looked at him. “Did you just say ‘aye’?” She commanded herself not to kiss him right there. Griff laughed. It was a low sexy sound that penetrated her marrow. “I did. My family’s Scottish and it’s kind of a family tradition to throw in a little brogue now and then. I’m sorry.” “No, don’t be sorry. It’s cute.” She wanted to run her hands through his hair. “What’s your family’s name?” She tried to sound as casual as possible but doubted she pulled it off. “Ferguson. It’s my mother’s maiden name.” Amanda smiled. “Please, Griff. Have a seat.” As they moved into the sitting room, her blood turned molten in her veins. He’d come back for her, just like he’d promised. A lump lodged in her throat and she fought the tears that pooled in her eyes. Her ghost, her love, found her. “Tell me about this house,” Griff said. He sank into the deep cushions of the couch and looked at Amanda. “I have a copy of the floor plans here. Very nice.” The sound of her rapid heartbeat in her ears drowned out all other sounds. Taking several deep breaths, she tried to calm her breathing. “Why don’t I give you a tour and then if you have any questions…” Amanda nodded her head toward the staircase and a wicked smile spread on her face. “Let’s start with a room you won’t find on those floor plans.” As they walked up the stairs Amanda felt happier than she’d felt in a very long time. No, their time together would never be as explosive as their seduction on All Hallow’s Eve, but something told Amanda that spending a lifetime learning about Griff McAllister would be amazing all the same. 28

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Maybe it was the way her body quivered at the sight of him, or her flesh ached for his hands on her. Or maybe it was simply that she knew that she’d found her dream lover and getting to know him from this moment on would be better than anything her mind could ever dream up.

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About the Author

When she's not hanging out at the beach or lost in a novel by one of her favorite romance author's, Zanne Farrell is busy creating stories that are as smart as they are sexy. A fun loving resident of Florida, Zanne is always busy on her latest work in progress and hopes that her readers enjoy her stories as much as she enjoys writing them.

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