Page 33 of A Ghost of a Chance

Osanne put both hands over her heart. For a person without a physical body, it sure seemed as if her heart expanded.

He looked away. “I know we can never be together in this life. Perhaps my true purpose is to learn how I can help you escape this state into which you have been consigned.”

She stared out into the darkness. With no moon tonight, nothing existed outside the small circle of light from his lantern. “Until I met you, I was in a rather endless day, caught between states of existence. Not living. Trapped here, seeing my fellow villagers grow up and grow old, no longer a part of them. It was agonizing. But I could not bear to risk nothingness.” She studied his face. “And now, I also cannot bear the thought of leaving you.”

“Nor can I.” His dark gaze met hers and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

How she adored him!

He broke eye contact first and resumed his stride toward Madding Hollow. As they reached the celebration, they passed the gypsies. Madam Miska, for a change not surrounded by those seeking their fortunes, smiled knowingly at them. Rafe sauntered up to her, Osanne at his side.

“Madam.” Rafe, ever the gentleman, inclined his head.

“Ah, the star-crossed lovers.” She nodded at Rafe, and then looked directly at Osanne. “Have you considered that true love’s first kiss would break the spell?”

Osanne stared at her while Rafe laughed bitterly. “Madam, believe me when I say if there were a way to kiss her, I would have done that long ago.”

He wanted to kiss her long ago? Osanne focused on the curve of his lips, trying to imagine the beauty of his kiss.

The gypsy folded her arms and studied them with glittering eyes. “In my experience, there is almost always a way.”

“What way could there be?” Rafe asked.

“That has not been revealed to me. You must discover that on your own.”

A village girl shyly approached the gypsy, and Madam Miska turned her focus on her young customer.

Osanne spoke her mind to Rafe with uncharacteristic boldness. “You would have kissed me long ago if you could have?”

Rafe’s mouth turned up in a rueful smile. He led her out of earshot of the villagers. “Mere hours after we first met.”

“Are you normally so forward with young ladies of your acquaintance?”

“No, not at all. Normally I can’t think of anything to say around them. With you, however, everything is different.” He tapped his chest and absently played with the edges of his scarf. “I feel a greater connection, and deeper affection, for you than I have ever had with anyone else. I want to spend every moment I can with you. I want to make you happy.”

Was that a declaration?

He made a helpless gesture. “But we have such limited time.”

Gently, she said, “Is it possible that the reason you feel this way for me is because we often want what we cannot have?”

He shook his head. “No, that can’t be all it is. I have never pined after another woman like I do when you are gone.”

He pined after her? Pleasure mixed with an equal measure of remorse. She wanted to add to his happiness, not cause more misery. But oh, to be so adored and desired!

He walked a few paces away and came back to her, shaking his head. “It’s fitting to live most of my life in the hell of a battlefield, and then find that the one woman for whom I care more than I ever have, is one who died over fifty years ago.”

She stared at him. “I’ve been dead for fifty years?”

He paused. “You didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “No, a year is only one night to me—and not even a full night—and with each one so much like all the others, I had quite lost track.”

Fifty years!

“Fifty-two, to be exact,” he said quietly.

She caught herself floating upward and quickly returned to his side. She could continue like this indefinitely, never connected to others, unable to have a real relationship. No friendship. No human contact. No love—except what they could wring out of a single night a year.