She’s uncomfortable with knowing she’s in my thoughts and… He sought the thready essence of her feelings… pleased.
He ventured closer, needing to see her face. Too long had passed since the last time anyone was happy to see him or bothered thinking about him.
His sense of other people’s emotions was infallible, when the feeling was strong. However, Luc still needed to read physical clues to gain a full understanding. He bent close and peered into her eyes.
Her smile grew, becoming the smile that’d always enchanted him. However, her gaze was clouded with confusion and…regret?
“You are a dear, kind man.”
If he’d not been so rapt by her expression, he might have noticed her raised hand.
Grace placed her palm on his cheek—or what would’ve been his cheek had he been completely corporeal.
Lightning struck, paralyzing him, as her fingers passed through his face. Shock registered in her expression. Her eyes went wide, and she gaped. Screaming, she scrambled to her feet. Then she fled.
The dogs raced into the yard and howled after her.
Fool.
Cursing himself for his idiocy would be hilariously redundant, and as stupid as following to try to reason with Grace. She needed time. Time to recover her wits and some sense of equilibrium before she’d even listen to him.
Luc retreated to theOnly Love. Tonight, he eschewed the ritual of toasting the moon with a whiskey. He’d explain everything to Grace. Somehow, he’d convince her he was no danger. Despite his preferences, she’d become important to him.
More than I ever imagined possible.
She might not want to listen, but he had to try. Just the attempt might plant a seed of truth that would bear the fruit of her trust and belief in him. Or, Grace could be so repulsed that she’d refuse to ever see him again. That had happened before. An ancestor of Grace’s had seen Luc’s ghostly presence once and refused to believe. The denial was so great, so intense, that no matter what he did, the woman had never again seen him, regardless of the moon phase. While the rejection had hurt a tiny bit, Luc had accepted her denial as best for both of them. He’d kept watch, as he did with all residents ofSweet Dreams. However, he’d made no attempt to interact with the woman or her family. Since then, an occasional resident had seen him in moonlight. Grace’s aunt Sarah had seen him and accepted him. That’d been one of the few friendships of his cursed existence. Too bad Sarah passed on before Grace learned the truth. Sarah might’ve helped convince her niece to believe what her eyes and heart told her.
What does Grace’s heart tell her about me?Is there any chance I can gain her trust, help her to believe?
Until he confronted her, Luc couldn’t know. Waiting was all he could do. He was good at that. He’d been waiting ninety-eight years and would probably wait for several hundred more before he met his doom.
Chapter Sixteen
March 10, 1912 Waning Crescent Moon
Sweet Dreams Plantation House
Trembling, Grace wrapped herself in the comforter and huddled atop her mattress. The comforter had lain at the foot of the bed, unused for all her months atSweet Dreams. Tonight, she could not get warm enough. Yes, she was sweating, but the cold sweat of fear and … loathing?
The day she’d encountered Mambo Ayezan, she’d experienced something like the sensation that’d engulfed her when her hand had passed through Luc’s face. Lightning-struck didn’t come close. Storm-tossed perhaps, if the storm were caused by meteors, and being pummeled by a thousand or more incandescent spheres could be survived.
Loathing?Do I loathe Luc?Is Luc even real?
More likely he was a phantom she’d conjured out of loneliness, desperation and stress. She’d needed someone to talk with, to confide in. But why conjure a man, especially one like Lucien Flynn?
Could reading the log of theOnly Lovehave influenced her? The book had definitely colored her dreams. Her imaginary friend—more like a being than a friend—certainly had the air of a corsair about him.
Grace smiled. Then it hit her that she no longer shivered. She unwrapped the comforter and folded it away. Dreaming up a pirate captain as a confidant was unusual.My imagination is working overtime. Luc seemed so very real. She recalled the few small touches they’d shared. Holding his hand, she’d recognized the callouses of a man who worked hard. She hadn’t needed his touch to understand the strength of his muscles. That one time he’d hugged her and buried his face in her hair…
In that moment, Grace had felt so safe, so comfortable with him. How was that possible? Especially when she still hesitated to trust him.
The mind was a powerful thing. Those few touches had to be made up out of whole cloth. Figments.
No wonder I only saw him after dark when all the workers were gone.
That explained tonight’s fright as well. Although, the night was still new Luc had made his appearance.
She’d been so happy to see him. Eager to tell him of her days since they’d last met. Eager to hear more of his history.A history that I made up all on my own. I should write novels.
