What was she doing? Bent forward and bouncing her delectable bottom here, in the middle of tombs and gravestones? Sure he didn’t know, he blinked, wondering if she was an apparition? A solid-looking specter, but not of this earth. He knew from working on and sleeping in Gannet House these past months, that there are strange things in theworld.
Aberdeen, especially, was a city ofghosts.
Why shouldn’t he meet onehere?
It was Samhain Eve, afterall.
But then more of the ‘ghost’ came into view and he saw what she wasabout…
The lass was clearly trying to crouch behind the monument, keeping herself hidden from whatever in front of her had captured herinterest.
Curious himself, he strode forward, swiftly circling the tomb to confronther.
“Ho, lass! This is no place for a young woman so late of an e’en.” He gave her a smile he hoped would take the sting from hiswords.
Deserted as it was, the kirkyardwasdangerous afterdark.
As was any burialground.
“I am here precisely because it is late.” She straightened and brushed at her cloak, clearly of a different opinion. “You scared away theghosts.”
“Ghosts?” Greyson blinked. “I didn’t seeany.”
He didn’t know what else tosay.
For sure he wasn’t going to tell her that he’d almost taken her for aspook.
Now that she stood before him, he saw that he’d mistaken the glint of the moon on her hair for the silvery-blue flash. Not spectral at all, she was quite real. Older than he’d first guessed, she appeared sure of herself. Perhaps even bold, definitely unafraid of the graves, mist wraiths, or the black and leafless branches creaking in the wind. She was also bonnie with her glossy raven hair, the color being the reason for such a distinctive gleam in themoonlight.
Her eyes were large, momentarily outraged, and he’d bet anything they’d be the most vivid blue by the light of day. Even now, in the dim glow coming from the lanterns and old houses along the road behind the kirkyard, her eyes held a hint of sapphire that beguiled him, as did the dimple in her right cheek. She had smooth, creamy skin and smelled of summer roses. Her cloak couldn’t hide that she was also possessed of full round breasts, though he tried his utmost not to let his gaze lingerthere.
And thanks to her having already presented him with a fine rear view, he knew that the rest of her was equallyappealing.
She didn’t seem as taken withhim.
“You wouldn’t have seen the ghosts, would you?” She set her hands on her hips, her eyes shooting sparks at him. “They dissipated the moment you barged around themonument.”
“Aye, well…” Greyson glanced about, seeing only drifting mist. Looking back at her, he risked another smile. “Can it no’ be you sawmist?”
“I know the difference between mist and formingspirits.”
Greyson lifted a brow. “See ghosts often, doyou?”
“How often do you accost ladies inkirkyards?”
“Och, at least once in a fortnight,” Greyson returned, trying to keep his mouth from quirking. “More often if the mood strikesme.”
“You are laughing at me,” she said, her lipstightening.
“Sweet lass, I cannae help it.” He made her a slight bow. “Greyson Merrick, at your service. The truth is I have ne’er in my life met a lass who visits kirkyards in search ofghosts.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You do notbelieve?”
“I didnae say that.” He’d hoped she’d offer hername.
“Then what?” She peered at him. “Were you also here to see thespirits?”
“Nae.”I was walking home after venturing out to dine at an inn so my longsuffering manservant Smithers needn’t spend another evening toiling over cookpots in mykitchen.
