“Jack –” she started yet again but he talked over her.
“Now, should I kiss you or are you going to kiss me?” he asked and her mouth dropped open and his eyes moved to it again. “I’d prefer you kiss me but that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen, so…”
He let that dangle in the air only the merest moment before he bent his head and kissed her.
His tongue slid inside her mouth and even though she really, really, really, really wanted to resist, she didn’t.
Not even for a second.
So maybe she didn’t really, really, really, really want to resist.
Instead, her head tilted, her torso twisted, he let go of her hand and she wrapped her arms around him as he pulled her up his chest and deepened the kiss.
It felt good.
No, it felt perfect, kissing Jack on the rocks by the sea. It was the best moment in her life (barring the other best moments she had with Jack) and she never wanted it to end.
His mouth broke from hers, trailed down her cheek to her ear and he whispered, “So f**king sweet.”
She trembled in his arms, felt his hand glide up her spine and trembled again.
She was about to twist her head to invite another kiss when her eyes fluttered open, they caught on something odd, she focussed on that something and she went completely still.
She stared and terror raced through her, so strong, she didn’t feel Jack’s body responding to her withdrawal nor did she hear him call her name.
Instead she stared at the two children standing in the window looking down at them. A boy and a girl. The boy was black-headed, the girl was fair. They couldn’t be more than eight and ten or even younger.
And, even though Belle could see them plain as day, she could also see through them.
“Jesus, Belle, what is it?” Jack’s voice was harsh and it snapped her out of her terrified shock, she jerked from his arms and got to her feet. Her eyes never leaving the window, she retreated, walking backwards.
Then, the little girl waved at her.
Waved at her!
Belle let out a strangled scream just as Jack’s arm hooked around her waist, pulled her to his body and dragged her back several wide steps.
“What the f**k are you doing?” he clipped and her eyes flew to him. “You nearly fell over the cliff.”
She looked around her dazedly, not having time for the possibility that she nearly did herself, and their child, bodily harm.
She looked back at Jack and said in an urgent, frightened voice, “Jack, there are children in the turret.”
Jack’s head whipped around and up and when Belle’s eyes moved back to the window, the child ghosts were gone.
Jack turned back to her and Belle’s gaze met his. “They were there. I swear. I saw both of them!”
“Myrtle and Lewis,” Jack said and Belle’s mouth dropped open.
“Myrtle and Lewis?” she whispered.
“Who told you the story?” Jack asked.
“The story?” Belle repeated stupidly.
“Was it Yasmin?”
“Yasmin?” Belle parroted again.
His hand came to her jaw. “You can’t let it get to you, love. It’s just a ghost story. They aren’t real.”
“Ghost story?” Belle breathed in horror.
He grinned and she was certain at that point he was definitely mad. Mad enough to be locked up because there was nothing to grin about when there were ghosts haunting his castle.
“Trust me, I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve heard that story dozens of times and I’ve never seen them,” he assured her, still grinning like he thought she was hilarious.
“I just saw them,” Belle told him.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
He looked over his shoulder and up at the turret again then back at her.
“Are they there now?” he asked and, hesitantly, she glanced up but there were no ghostly children in the window.
“No,” she told him when she was looking at him again.
“Belle –”
It was her turn to talk over him. “I can’t live here when there are ghosts in the castle.”
“Belle –” he said again and this time his tone had changed significantly. It had grown slightly dangerous.
She put her hands on his chest and fisted his shirt in her fingers. “We have to move to the cottage,” she announced then added hysterically, “this instant.”
“Poppet –” he began but she kept talking.
“You can sleep with me,” she blurted then went on. “And you can bring the dogs.”
His arms slid around her and drew her to his body. She could feel his shaking, not with terror, but with laughter.
She tipped her head back to look at him and saw it was true.
He was laughing.
“This isn’t funny!” she screeched.
“It’s hilarious,” he contradicted, still laughing.
“There are ghosts in your house,” she cried. “Child ghosts. There’s nothing creepier than child ghosts. Everyone knows that!” she yelled.
His face dipped close to hers.
“Everyone?” he teased.
“James Bennett, I do not find this amusing!” she was still yelling. Then again, there were ghosts in his castle.
“Well,” he started as one arm dropped, the other one shifted up to wrap around her shoulders and he guided her toward the rug. “That decides it,” he finished and bent to nab the rug before moving her toward the castle.
She looked up at him as they were walking. “Decides what?”
“Considering there are creepy child ghosts haunting the castle, even when I’m not in the mood to sleep with you, if that mood should ever strike me, which, so far, it hasn’t, then I’ll have to sleep with you anyway.” His arm gave her a squeeze. “Protection.”
He was still teasing.
She pulled out of his arm, planted her feet and gave his bicep a light smack, shouting, “This is serious!”
He threw his head back and roared with laughter at the same time his hand shot out and wrapped around the back of her neck, playfully yanking her face first into his chest.
His other arm holding the rug came about her and held her to his shaking with mirth frame.
Even before he’d completely quit laughing, he looked down at her upturned face and said, “I’ll have to have a word with Myrtle and Lewis. They’ve supposedly been around for two hundred years without causing the least harm but I’d prefer it if they wouldn’t appear and scare you silly when I’m kissing you.”