Page 52 of A Ghost of a Chance

He squeezed his eyes closed.

She backed away from him and hovered in the air as a reminder of what she was. “Rafe, look at me.”

He drew a breath and opened his eyes. The hurt and conflict revealed itself in his expression, his bright eyes, the tension in his body.

She gestured to herself. “This isn’t what you want.”

He reached for her. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“If you truly love me, you will live. Live for me. Fall in love with a living woman, have children, grow old together.”

“I don’t want another woman.”

“This is cruel to us both. I cannot continue like this—seeing what might have been but will never be. I want more. With each passing night we have, I grow increasingly unsatisfied. Seeing you makes it worse. We must cease.”

“Osanne, don’t....” His eyes grew shiny and he swallowed hard.

She could insist that he perform the ceremony. Yet as much as she loved Rafe, she couldn’t face the possibility of nothingness. More importantly, she couldn’t ask him to face the prospect of sending her there.

All her courage went into saying the next words. “Do not come for me next year.”

He let out a half groan, half sob. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

But she did. “I will not be here. You will not find me.”

She turned and headed for the nearest wall. As she went through it, he groaned, “Osanne!”

She fled into the night, sailing high above Madding Hollow, over the rugged landscape, to the knoll where she lost her life.

Without a body, the release of weeping remained impossible for her. Instead, she lay on the ground where she had died and wailed her sorrow until the sunrise carried her away to blissful unawareness.

Chapter Sixteen

Under a summer sky, Rafe strode along a lane lined with hedgerows and lavender. He barely noticed the warm sunlight or the honeysuckle-scented breeze. Without Osanne, his empty, shredded soul longed for companionship, even if his battered heart could never love again.

Kitty, of course, had proven to be good company before she and her family went to spend the summer in Bath. But the thought of courtship left him empty and cold.

A feminine voice called out, “Ah, it seems today is a fine day for a ramble.” Kitty’s smiling face came into view. She peered at him from underneath her bonnet.

Rafe’s steps faltered. “I thought you were still in Bath?”

“We returned last eve.”

“Did you find many new diversions?” Rafe asked.

“It was the same as last year. And the year before. Parties, balls, carriage rides, tea in the Pump Room.”

No mention of the ancient Roman ruins or appreciation of the history. Osanne would have drunk it all in. Of course, to be fair, Kitty had been there several times. Perhaps the novelty had worn thin.

“I supposed you turned down a dozen marriage proposals?” he teased.

She went very still, then said quietly, “I stopped him before he got the words out.”

Rafe also went still. He shouldn't be surprised. Kitty was well past marriageable age but was still as lovely as ever. “Poor chap.”

“Yes, poor chap. But I don’t believe it’s proper to marry someone when one has formed an attachment for another, do you?”

“One can form an attachment for the person one wedded. Many married couples grow to love one another after the wedding. My own parents, for example.”