Read Chaste Kiss Online

Authors: Jo Barrett

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Horror, #Ghosts, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Paranormal & Urban, #Contemporary Fiction

Chaste Kiss (14 page)

Where was that blasted ghost?

"He'll meet us there at nine o'clock,” her uncle said. “Now don't get your hopes up too high about this. It may not be suitable on the inside. Or worse, he may be asking a ridiculous price."

"I'm not too concerned about the price. I've done my fair share of bartering. It's the space I'm interested in and that second floor."

"Second floor?” Constance asked.

"Yes. I think it would be a good spot for an office-studio combination. A place I can set up my drawing board and things. But like Uncle Jerome says, it's got to be in good condition."

Isabel quickly finished her breakfast and excused herself from the table with the pretense of putting away the books before they left, when in fact she went searching for William.

Quickly returning to the library, she found the books neatly placed on the shelf, but no ghost. Hoping to find him in her room she hurried up the stairs. Relief replaced anxiety when she spotted him staring out the window down at the gardens below.

With a steadying breath, she joined him. “The morning light reflecting off the dew makes it look like a fairy land, doesn't it?"

"Aye. ‘Tis most serene."

"You sound tired. Are you all right? Did you expend too much energy last night?"

"Nay, I am well."

As she looked over his drawn face, Isabel realized he seemed more depressed than sick. “What were you looking for last night?"

William sighed heavily. “'Tis of no import."

"Well, whatever it is, it sure has you looking glum. Please, tell me. Maybe I can help."

He sighed. “I was searching for information about my family. I wished to know what happened to the Ashenhurst line and—others of my acquaintance."

"Hmm, Uncle Jerome could help. Why don't I see if I can get him to do some checking for you?"

"Nay, Isabel. As I said, ‘tis not of great import.” He turned and gave her a surveying look. “You look quite comely this day, mistress. Is there a special occasion?"

She recognized a dodge when she heard one. For whatever reason, he didn't want to talk about his family, but his false smile didn't fool her. He still felt pretty low, and she had the perfect cure. “How about a little day trip?"

"Day trip?"

"I though you might like to come with Uncle Jerome and me to see my perspective new place of business."

William chuckled. “Where would I ride? In the trunk?"

Finally, a real smile. He definitely needed an outing. “No, silly. Uncle Jerome's driving. He has a sedan. You can ride in the back seat."

"I would greatly enjoy more time away from the manor."

"Great! I'll get the dagger and stash it in my purse."

Minutes later they were on their way. Isabel was so excited she could barely sit still until her uncle started hemming and hawing about something.

"Um, Izzy. I wanted to tell you, well, about what you saw last night in the kitchen."

"Isabel, Uncle Jerome. Isabel."

"Yes, yes, Isabel. About last night—"

She shifted sideways so she could see the back seat without looking suspicious. “What about it?” She glanced at their invisible escort who simply shrugged his shoulders. Apparently, only direct sunlight affected her ability to see him clearly any longer.

Turning her attentions back to her uncle, Isabel noticed a vibrant red steadily creeping up his neck, and realized what he was talking about. “Oh, you mean you and Constance. What about it?"

"It was, well, I don't want you to think—"

"Take it easy, Uncle.” She giggled. “Whatever goes on between you and Constance is your business.”
And whatever goes on between me and a certain English lord is my business
.

If her uncle had an inkling of what went on in his house, he'd have a conniption. Isabel swallowed the laughter threatening to bubble out. Jerome never liked Chad. She could only imagine what he would say about her being involved with a ghost.

She gave her uncle a teasing smile. “I have to say, it sure took you long enough."

"It isn't what you think,” he said quickly.

"Oh? You mean you aren't interested in Constance?"

"Well, I—no. I mean, yes, I'm interested in her. I just don't really know what I'm going to do about it yet."

She placed her hand on his arm. “Uncle Jerome, have you always been this shy with women?"

"Is it that obvious?” The rosiness that had climbed up his neck spread rapidly across his cheeks.

"Afraid so. But don't feel too bad,” she said patting his arm. “I know Constance is interested in you."

"I guess I'm a lot like my brother, in that respect. If your mother hadn't latched on to him when she did, you probably wouldn't be here now. Oh, but don't get me wrong. They loved each other and they loved you,” Jerome added.

"I know they did. They just didn't let everyone see it.”
Not even me
.

Wanting to stop the melancholy mood before it had a chance to take hold, Isabel turned the topic of discussion back to her uncle. “Why haven't you ever married?"

"I almost did. I waited too long to do anything about it, and she slipped through my fingers.” He turned a forced smile to her. “She married a colleague of mine and has three grown children and four grandchildren. She's very happy, and I'm happy for her."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. I wouldn't have met Constance if I'd married Vivian."

"Are you in love with Constance?"

He smiled smugly as he watched the road. “Maybe."

"I think she's wonderful. And you'd better not let this one get away."

"I might just take that advice. Enough about me. What about you and Detective Wise?"

Her uncle's tone made it clear he wasn't exactly keen on the idea of her going out with Mick, and William seemed a little too interested in her response to his question. The way he perched on the edge of the seat, listening intently, his eyes narrowing. Curious or jealous?

"Constance seems to think you should get out and date, but I'm not so sure I agree with her,” her uncle continued. “You've been through an awful lot recently."

William craned his head sideways, searching her face.

"I don't know if I'll go out with him or not. I've got plenty of work to do anyway,” she said.

William visibly relaxed.

Hmm, a jealous ghost, what an intriguing notion. Time to have a little fun with her favorite specter. After all, she'd been battling the same green monster the night before with those college coeds. Let him have a go at it for a while.

"But then again, if he asks me out, I might just take him up on the offer. He's quite handsome."

William scowled, and his back stiffened. She fought to hide her grin. This could actually be fun, then again was it wise to make a ghost jealous?

They pulled up to the curb in front of the vacant store, and her uncle climbed out. After pulling out a legal pad for taking notes, she pretended to rummage in her purse for a pen.

"What do you think?” she whispered.

"I think your uncle is right. You should not hurry to begin dating again."

She bit down hard on her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Talk about changing his opinions? The rogue was jealous! How absolutely wonderful.

Not once in her limited experience in the dating world had she ever made anyone jealous. Even though they could never be more than friends, it was a glorious feeling to have someone care about her so much.

"I was talking about the store,” she said softly, hiding her smile.

William remained silent for a moment before answering. “'Tis nice. Alas, I am no judge of such things."

Her uncle opened her door as she located her pen. Stepping out of the car, she turned to meet the realtor, putting William to the back of her mind. It was time to do business.

"Mr. Jennings, this is my niece, Isabel Derrington."

She extended her hand to the paunchy little man, who wasn't much taller than she, and shook it firmly. His balding pate flashed in the sun, as did his very wide smile. He reminded her of a grinning hyena.

After exchanging greetings, the three of them discussed the outside of the building for a few moments, but she quickly lost track of the conversation.

Standing in front of the store adjacent to the vacant shop stood a nice looking woman holding tightly to her squiggling daughter. The little girl looked to be around four or five years old. Isabel could swear the little girl's eyes were transfixed on William.

Thanks to the deep awning covering the sidewalk, she could clearly see her ghostly escort casually looking into the store windows not far from the woman with the little girl. As her uncle and the realtor turned to go into the vacant building, she followed, but kept one eye on the child.

William moved to join them, and the little girl smiled broadly and waved. He smiled and waved back. Isabel looked around nervously to see if anyone else could see him as clearly as the little girl could, but no one else seemed to notice.

Did all children see him? Or did the child have the same extra vision she had? If he had been in his Renaissance clothes instead of jeans, the little girl might have said something odd, but then who would have believed her? Then again, if anyone else did see him, why would they care? He looked perfectly normal with the exception of being so handsome.

William slipped up beside her and shrugged, apparently not sure why the little girl could see him either. urning her thoughts back to the store, she waited for Mr. Jennings to unlock the door.

"Do you suppose he shall fit through the opening?” William whispered teasingly in her ear.

Isabel giggled and quickly covered it with a cough as she glanced to see if her uncle or the realtor had heard him, but she could see they hadn't.

Thankful that William remembered to remain unknown to the world, she looked at the little man as he jingled his keys in search of the right one. It was unfair of William to make fun of the realtor simply because he was rather round, but she had to admit she'd been wondering the same thing herself. Which in turn meant the doorway was narrow. Furniture wouldn't fit through very well. She hoped there was a larger door in back for deliveries and made a quick note to check.

Mr. Jennings stepped inside and they followed. The air was stale and dust mites floated through the shafts of light streaming in through the windows. An old cash register sat atop a small checkout counter near the door. She was tempted to examine it more closely, but didn't want to let on to Mr. Jennings that it might be worth something.

She made another quick note.

William stepped behind the counter and stood opposite the realtor while she and her uncle moved about the shop.

"There are a few pieces of junk still here from the previous owners, as you can see.” The funny little man motioned around the room. “Well, maybe not all junk. This grand old cash register, for instance. It would add a nice touch to your little store."

Isabel bristled. Her
little
store, indeed. What did the pompous Neanderthal think? That her uncle was pacifying his sweet little niece's whims by setting her up with a business to play with?

Holding in her rebuke, she glanced at William. She could see by the grim set of his mouth and the deep crease in his brow, he didn't care much for the man's comment either.

Mr. Jennings leaned down to inspect the cash register more closely. “Why, it might actually be valuable."

William's eyes gleamed deviously. He was up to no good. Raising his hand, his index finger poised over the register buttons, he waggled his eyebrows.

She shook her head slightly, trying to dissuade him, but it was no use. Grinning widely, he pressed the sale button on the cash register causing the bell to sound and the cash drawer to pop open.

Mr. Jennings jumped back two feet, clutching his chest. “I, uh, guess it's busted.” He nervously eyed the machine. “That must be why they left it."

She turned away to hide her smile. The look on William's face was too much. Quickly putting her mind to the task of inspecting the shop, afraid she'd burst out into a fit of giggles which would only validate the realtor's notion she was a silly woman in need of new hobby, she swept her foot across the floor. Isabel noted fairly battered wooden floorboards beneath the thick layer of dust and grime. Undoubtedly the original flooring, an asset as far as she was concerned. With some serious scrubbing, it would look as good as new.

Well, not new, but quaint, which was the atmosphere she wanted. The walls weren't too bad either. A little patching here and there, and a fresh coat of paint, and they'd be fine.

After making some more notes, she set about examining the store further. She had the feeling it was the perfect spot for her antique shop. Her uncle apparently thought the same thing as he cast a quick glance and a nod in her direction while Mr. Jennings’ head was turned. The poor man continued to eye the cash register.

At the very back of the shop, a steep flight of stairs disappeared into the ceiling next to a small hallway. On one side of the hall, there was a bathroom and a broom closet, and on the other a set of double doors to a large storage room.

Along the back wall of the storage room, there was another set of doors leading to the alley behind the building. The perfect access she needed for larger items to be carried in and out. Isabel checked off her earlier note.

Mr. Jennings made his way up the steep staircase, his breathing labored while Jerome followed. Isabel paused to make a few more annotations when the upper floor began creaking and popping. Her eyes shot up to the ceiling as she envisioned Mr. Jennings’ bulky form crashing through the floorboards.

"I am certain ‘twill hold, but I would prefer you move out of the way in any case,” William said quietly with a small grin.

Smiling, she nodded and made her way to the stairs, stopping on the first step.

"What do you think?” she whispered.

He continued to mill about the room, examining fixtures and tables. The odd shadows made him appear more solid than transparent. She couldn't help but think how normal he looked. Dreams of spending her life with him popped into her mind, and she quickly chased them back out. This was not the time or place to get all moony-eyed about a ghost.

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