He watched her for a second then repeated, “Thank you,” but this time he meant it.
Then, without another word, he walked away.
Julia was in her room, taking off her shoes and trying (with difficulty and not a great deal of success) not to think of the events of the night and just how much she enjoyed them (from start to finish, except, of course, her catty comment) when she heard it. Or, more to the point, since it was nearly always there, didn’t hear it.
The scratching was gone.
She lifted her head as she dropped the second shoe and looked at the window, the draperies closed on it. She’d only lit the bedside lamp when she entered, not having the energy to light more.
That was when she felt it, the draught at her ankles, and she looked down, pulling her feet up on the bed. She saw the misty fog swirling and then it moved away, where the window scratching always took place and Julia watched the mist in frozen, horrified fascination.
It rose off the floor and she stared as it took form, swirling around as it shaped itself slowly into the body of a beautiful, young woman dressed in a flowing, empire waist gown, its misty, shredded ends streaming round her like they were alive.
Julia stared in open-mouthed terror when the ghost said something, her mouth moving but nothing coming out. Julia found herself leaning forward as if to hear and then without warning, the spectre shot forward, right toward Julia.
Julia let out a frightened, muted scream but she wasted no time. She leapt off the bed and ran to the door. Yanking it open, she tore down the hall and only when she was well into the dining room did she allow herself to look back to see… nothing.
But it was too late, she’d looked behind her so she wasn’t looking where she was going and she slammed straight into a solid barrier. A human barrier. A human barrier that grunted in surprise. A human barrier whose arms came around her like vices.
They both fell to the (thankfully thickly carpeted) dining room floor. He on his back with nothing to break his fall, Julia right on top of him.
She pulled herself up, one hand on the floor, the other on his chest and saw through the darkness it was Douglas.
“What the hell… are you… doing?” he asked, his voice winded and irate.
“A ghost. I saw the ghost of The Mistress. In my room!” She was lying fully on top of him but she was looking back over her shoulder.
She felt hands grab her waist tightly and she was flipped expertly on her back, this time Douglas on top.
“What are you doing?” she cried hysterically from her new, unexpected position.
“I need to… breathe,” he forced out and took a deep breath and then a second one. “You knocked the wind out of me and your weight wasn’t helping.”
“I saw the ghost of The Mistress,” Julia repeated, looking up into his shadowed face and ignoring his justified complaints because, well… there a haunting was afoot!
“There is no ghost of The Mistress, it’s just a myth,” Douglas replied calmly, his breath returned to normal.
“I saw her,” Julia snapped in the face of his calm, slapping his bicep with her hand to express her annoyance (and also anxiety). “She formed from a mist, right in my room!”
He looked over his shoulder then back at her. “No ghost and no mist,” he declared.
Tentatively, Julia lifted her head to look over his shoulder, grabbing them both with her hands for leverage. Like Douglas, she saw nothing.
“I swear I saw her,” she whispered unsteadily, lowering her back to the ground.
“You’re drunk.”
“I am not drunk!” she hissed (even though she kind of was) as she let go of his shoulders and slapped his bicep again.
“The Mistress doesn’t show herself anyway. She’s always just there.”
Her eyes rounded at his words. “You know about this? The draughts, the whispers… the screams?” she asked him, her tone accusatory, as it bloody well should be.
“Of course, I’ve lived here all my life,” Douglas answered. “I’ve never seen it, felt it or heard it but I know about it.”
Julia gasped then snapped, “That first night I was here, you made me think I was a crazy person.”
“If you believe in ghosts, you are a crazy person,” he replied.
She started to squirm out from under him but he pulled her back.
“Let me up,” she demanded.
He hesitated only a moment then knifed away from her, lithely got to his feet and bent over, grabbed her hand and pulled her effortlessly to her own.
“I take back my apology,” she informed him angrily. “You’re a jerk.”
She couldn’t see his smile but she heard it in his voice. “And you’re mad.”
“I know what I saw,” she told him haughtily.
“Would you like to show me?”
“I can’t go back there!” Her voice was edgy with fear and she didn’t care one whit. “Maybe she’s waiting.”
“You could come with me to my room,” he suggested smoothly. “The inn’s full tonight, but I have a big bed, plenty of room for the both of us.”
“You’re impossible,” she hissed in return.
“And you’re adorable,” he replied instantly, his tone warm and teasing.
Julia gaped because Douglas Ashton had just called her adorable.
Not to mention Douglas playful and warm and teasing, all in one night? It was too much to take. And, try as she might, she couldn’t stop the warm tingles that his easy, sweet compliment gave her.
“Fine, I’ll go back,” she announced and walked by him, deciding her best bet was to ignore the whole thing but when he didn’t move she turned back and demanded, “Well? Are you coming?”
“Are you inviting me to your room?” he returned.
“Of course, you have to make sure it’s safe.”
“Protect you from a ghost?” he asked incredulously and she was certain, even though she couldn’t see it, he’d raised that damned brow.
“Yes!”
He regarded her for a moment then chuckled but did not move.
She sighed angrily.
“Well?” she prompted.
He hesitated only briefly.
“Lead on fair damsel,” Douglas muttered, Julia saw his shadowed arm gesture for her to move forward and she was too frightened to utter another angry rejoinder. She walked on and, at her door, she stopped.
“You go first,” she whispered.
He spared her a glance then walked through and surveyed the room while she stayed at the door.