Page 8 of A Ghost of a Chance

She laughed. Birdsong had never sounded sweeter.

He grinned. “Ah, you do laugh. I had begun to wonder.”

Her mouth shifted from laughter to a wry smile. “I apologize if I am poor company.”

“Not at all. However, I cannot claim to be witty or entertaining if I fail to win your smiles and at least one notable laugh.”

“You may consider yourself successful. Only a court jester could best your skills as a diverting entertainer.”

“Oh, I must be losing my touch. I used to put jesters to shame. Perhaps my skills are in need of refining.”

A curving of her lips and something in the darkness in her eyes awakened an old memory.

“As a boy, I used to try to make my mother laugh. She made me feel as if I were the cleverest, most diverting boy who ever lived.”

“Mothers are never wrong about that sort of thing.”

“Indeed.” The wind stirred the naked branches of the tree overhead, making the moonlight shiver, and sent a chill through him.

She huffed a soft laugh. “I believe you need to move closer to the fire. Or have a hot drink.”

“It would be unmanly to admit I’m too cold to remain here.”

“Very well. I wish to return closer to the fire.” She stood. “Would you care to escort me back?”

“I can give you my coat.”

“No need.” She gave him a mysterious smile and led him to a less crowded fire barrel at the edge of the square. He held out his hands to the flames. Warmth soaked through his gloves. He let out a contented sigh.

She smiled at him. “Isn’t this better?”

“Noisier. But it is warmer.” His shivering eased as heat dispelled the chill.

“I know a place that is both warm and quiet.”

“You aren’t trying to lure me to a solitary place so you can trifle with my virtue, are you?” He gave her his most charming, flirtatious smile.

She lifted a brow and an enigmatic curve touched her lips. “Is that your fear or your hope?”

He choked and then laughed. No demure little miss here, despite her earlier reticence. How refreshing! “I dare not say.”

Honestly, he would follow her anywhere at that moment.

She nodded. “This way.”

Osanne moved along a path away from Madding Hollow toward a distant structure ablaze with light. Surely this was not the quiet place of which she had spoken. Gliding with the grace of a dancer despite the rough road, she led the way to the stately manor house that shone like a beacon.

Using the moonlight and Osanne’s comforting presence as guides, Rafe stumbled to keep up with her as they steadily approached the lights. Behind them, villagers continued their revelry. Up ahead, small groups of people milled among a line of horse-drawn carriages.

Here, between the crowd of the village and the smaller crowd by the Great House, silence enshrouded their little world. He longed to linger here in this blissful place with her. It only lasted a moment before voices and laughter grew louder as they neared the house.

“You sure it’s quiet here?” he asked doubtfully.

She threw an amused glance his way. “’Tis the annual All Hallows’ Eve Masquerade, but guests gather in the great hall and adjoining rooms. We shall go to another place nearby. A quiet place.”

How quiet? He slowed his steps. Doubts nagged at him. He had just met her. She seemed innocent enough, except for that one rather bold comment a moment ago, but what, really, did he know about Miss Osanne Jewell? Nothing except for a vague sensation that she soothed him and had a delicious wit. About everything else, she remained a perfect mystery. Still, he followed her like an obedient puppy.

They passed the long row of empty coaches awaiting the revelers inside. Drivers stood in clusters by an outdoor fire, chatting, laughing, smoking, and passing around bottles. Some walked their horses to keep them warm. A few of the men glanced at Rafe and Osanne as they passed, but no one moved to stop them. Instead of going to the manor house’s main entrance, Osanne went around the side, passing a terrace with French doors open to an unoccupied room filled with musical instruments and furniture.