Page 20 of A Ghost of a Chance

That familiar pull toward Ravenswood Manor tugged on her. She glanced at the Tudor house she had called home all her life, and then at Rafe. The same melody she had composed ran through her mind, including the new refrain that had come to her last year, but a variation in a new key took form—brighter, more hopeful. A new addition to her composition. What was it about Rafe that stirred her musical creativity?

Villagers cheered and clapped, drawing her focus to the village square. The bonfire leaped to life. Children danced and capered in their strange costumes. Screams rang out through the air.

“I suppose the Larkin boys are in the pub?” Rafe’s eyes glittered merrily.

Osanne exchanged smiles with him. Odd how much brighter the moon shone with him nearby, looking at her, smiling with her, speaking to her. If only she could touch him, intertwine her fingers with his, rest her head on his shoulder.

For now, it was enough to be with him.

“Most likely.” She moved closer, and the melody in her mind grew louder, more distinct.

Clearly, he inspired her. All her girlish dreams had taken form in this remarkable man—who apparently couldn’t get her out of his mind. For an entire year!

“Shall we shoo them out?” Rafe asked. His smile broadened and she could only stare at him.

She had never seen such pure, masculine beauty.

A joyous laugh bubbled up inside her. “Indeed, we should or who knows what those scalawags will do.”

He gestured for her to precede him. She could hardly keep from staring at him as they moved through the festivities.

He shook his head and let out a soft chuckle. “I’m not sure how long it will take me to become accustomed to seeing you go through objects. You look solid, but....”

Osanne halted and looked down. She floated in the middle of a large barrel full of apples. Quickly she moved back. “It must be disconcerting to see that.”

“At least you don’t have to be concerned with watching where you are going.” A gently teasing light entered Rafe’s eyes.

“You make a good point. If I were solid, you would think me terribly clumsy.”

“If you were solid, I’d offer you my arm and help guide you through all the obstacles in our path.”

How lovely that would be!

A man nearby paused as he drank out of a jug and gave Rafe a strange look. He crossed himself, got up muttering, and moved to a new location, all the while shooting backward glances at Rafe.

Smiling, Osanne leaned into Rafe. “Perhaps you ought not converse with me while in the midst of others, lest they think you mad.”

Rafe shrugged. “It’s All Hallows’ Eve; everyone’s acting a bit mad.”

Again, that pull to Ravenswood Manor to play the new variation of her song tugged at her.

Rafe tilted his head, and a gentle smile pulled his lips upward. He seemed more at peace with himself than he had last year. Questions crowded her mind. But those could wait until later. For now, she would immerse herself in the unique joy of being with him.

He shivered. “Colder than usual, this eve.”

“Perhaps you need something hot to drink?” Osanne suggested.

He nodded. “If you’re agreeable?”

“Of course. The Larkins are there, remember? And no one else seems inclined to cross them.”

They went to the inn where the Larkins were indeed pulling their usual pranks. Rafe ordered a mulled wine and sat. Nearby, the man named Jake sat in his usual spot, nursing a large tankard. A faint scar on his forehead remained of his injury last year. This year, Osanne would make sure no one else got hurt.

John Larkin reached for a lit candelabra and his brother grasped a barrel.

Osanne rounded on the Larkin boys. “If you do not limit your scare games to the graveyard and the woods, I vow I will haunt your mother.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at them.

The Larkins halted and stared at her. “You wouldn’t,” John ventured.