Page 21 of Ghost Walk
“Youwerebrought to justice.”
“Except I didn’t bloody do it!”
The two of them glowered at each other for a long moment and then Grace lookedaway, her lips pressed together. “Peaceful green cornfields. Peaceful green cornfields.” She rubbed her temples. “Peaceful. Green. Cornfields.”
God, but she drove him batty when she did that. Jamie sighed and got himself under control. The last thing he wanted was to antagonize Grace. “I apologize for shouting at you.” He held up his palms. “I just want you to believe me.”
“Well, Idon’t.” She slouched down in her chair, brooding. “And I’m right about the wigs, too.”
Jamie threw up his hands at her slightly tipsy stubbornness. “Bleeding Christ…”
“It’s true! They have a whole lecture on it at the Harrisonburg wig maker’s shop and I’ve been to ittwice.”
He would never understand why twenty-first century mortals wanted to squander their holidays in Harrisonburg. Back in the 1940s, when the historical society had first proposed the idea of becoming a tourist attraction, he’d laughed his ass off. How could learning about wigs and horseshoeseverbe entertaining? The eighteenth century hadn’t been all that stimulating the first time around. He almost felt sorry for the modern world, if that’s how they had fun. He’d hadfarbetter ways to spend his time, when he was alive.
He wasn’t stupid enough to tell Grace any of that, though. For whatever reason, she liked dull things and he was in no position to burn bridges. He backed off, for the moment. “Not everyone wore wigs.” He said, going for a safer topic and calmer tone.
“Yes, they did.” The woman clearly couldn’t hold her liquor worth a damn. It brought out the confrontational side that she claimed not to have. T’was quite adorable. “Is that even your real hair?”
“Aye, every strand.”
“Because it’s a very beautiful color.” She sounded irritated by that, too. “I’ve never known anyone with hair that was all auburn-y gold like that. I saw a picture of you in ahistory book and I thought it had to be a wig.Allof you wore wigs back then.”
“I didn’t.” His mouth curved, liking the fact that she liked his hair.
Grace made a face. “I should have bought more wine at the supermarket. One bottle clearly isn’t going to be enough to make you tolerable.”
“No one shouldeverbuy wine at a supermarket. Life is far too short to settle.”
“Oh Lord. Tell me you’re a wine snob, too.”
“Well, if I could still eat, drink, or taste, I’d surely be more selective than you are.” He paused, still irritated by Robert’s very existence. “Being a wee bit more discriminating inallareas of life would benefit you greatly, if you want my opinion.”
“Iamdiscriminating.” She snapped. “Incredibly, seriously,amazinglydiscriminating, for your information.”
Jamie arched a brow.
“Well, how was I supposed to know that Robert was such a louse?” She demanded, correctly interpreting his skepticism. “That doesn’t count against me. He seemed pleasant enough and totally safe.”
“Pleasant and safe. A rousing endorsement for any man.”
Grace glanced away. “All I’ve ever wanted is to feel safe.” The words were barely a whisper.
Jamie’s heart hadn’t beat in over two hundred years, but he swore it gave a lurch at that soft confession. His lips parted wanting to offer her his protection. …But that was pointless. What bloody good could a ghost be? He closed his mouth, calling himself a fool. The woman should have someonealive. Some solid and respectable gentlemanly partner, who could provide her with security and a happy future. Jamie knew that.
But he needed her too much to care.
He shook his head refusing to even consider the deeper ramifications of claiming Grace for his own. If he thought about the impossibilities of it, he might discoversomething he didn’t want to find. She washis. That was all that really mattered.
Grace was rallying again. “Anyway, I was very happy to go out with someone so husband material-y. His behavior isverydisappointing. Plus, now I’m going to have to take back the birthday gift I bought for him, which will be a real pain, since I didn’t keep the receipt. What am I going to do with a beige tie?”
Jamie made a face at her vaguely inconvenienced tone. “You would have been miserable with such a man. You just caught him cheating on you and you’re barely caring at all! Obviously it wasn’t a love match.”
“Maybe not, but after the year I’ve had, I needed some stability, alright?” She frowned in deep thought. “But the next time I get a boyfriend, I’m going to hold out for a guy who wakes up the pizza-tramp part of me. It seemed like it would be a lot more fun.”
Jamie wasn’t even going to touch that comment. “What happened last year?” He asked instead.
Her lips compressed into that familiar mutinous line. “Nothing.”
