Page 31 of Ghost Walk
“I…” She swallowed. “I’m just a regular human, who’s a little bit lost, alright?” Really, really lost. As in this-slightly-inebriated-pirate-was-the-only-person-on-the-planet-she-knew lost. What if she never got home?
“Lost from where?” Jamie persisted, seeing her distress. “Do you want me to fetch someone to aid you?”
“No.” She whispered with a quick shake of her head. There was no one but him. “I needyou.”
“No one needs me.” The words were instant and certain, but she’d clearly captured his attention. “I can summon the Watch, if you’re…”
Grace cut him off. “I don’t want the Watch or the police or the National Guard!Youhave to help me, Jamie! Just stay right there and help me figure this out.” She just needed to friggingthink.
He edged closer to her, at a loss as to how to proceed. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m just not sure how I got here. Or why. Or how to get back. Or…” She trailed off, trying to process this madness. “What day is it?”
“Sunday.”
“Sunday, the twenty-eighth of June?”
“Aye.” He checked the position of the moon. “For another hour or so. Although, if anyone should ask, I’m not one for drinking on the Sabbath.” He raised his mug at her with a wicked grin, trying to lighten the mood.
It didn’t work.
Holy cow.
Holycow, this was honest-to-God the night Lucinda Wentworth died.
Grace was used to weirdness. Growing up, she’d lived above a store that sold chicken heads and a “magical” number-shaped pasta, which was supposed to somehow reveal winning lotto combinations. But this… This was just totally off the lunacy charts, even for a Rivera.
Grace bent over with her hands on her knees, trying to calm her racing heart. Okay. (Peaceful green cornfields. Peaceful green cornfields.) If this was really real, (peaceful green cornfields) then she didn’t have the luxury of panic. She’d panicked the last time and it had gotten her locked up in a padded cell. (Peaceful green cornfields.) This time she had to stay calm and focus on what was important.
Like the fact that Jamie was still alive.
Grace switched her full attention to him, breathing hard. “This isn’t a delusion. It wasn’t before, either. Ihaven’tbeen going crazy, all this time. I’m… really here.” She’dactuallybeen traveling through time, to the night of the murders, and reliving it all. There was no “maybe” about it. It wasseriouslyhappening to her. “And you’re here, too.”
“None of which explains why a fairy needs my help.” Jamie reported, still looking baffled. Who could blame him?
She gave a high-pitched laugh that bordered on hysteria. “Actually, now that I think about it,you’rethe one who needsmyhelp.”
“Aye, that seems more likely.”
Grace ran a hand through her hair, close to hyperventilating. “You’re in a hell of a lot of trouble.” She paused. “And I’m not a fairy! Jesus, can you focus, please?”
Jamiemust be why this had happened.Hewas why she was here. Through the frantic pounding of her heart, she seized on that explanation for her current predicament. She was stuck back in time, because she was supposed to save Jamie.
Not that he deserved it.
The man wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the looming disaster. Instead, his gaze was scanning her body as if he liked what he saw. Despite everything, the heat of all that masculine focus had a hot, tight feeling building inside of her. Jamie was alive and feeling her up with his eyes.
“You’re going to aid me, then?” Having established she wasn’t in dire need of saving, he’d moved onto the business of flirting. “Well, that sounds promising. I’ve got quite a fewideas on how you can be of service.” He winked at her, not at all concerned about his own safety. When he suspectedshewas the one in trouble, he’d been willing to lend a hand. With regard to hisownlife, though, he was mind-blowingly cavalier. “I’ll get you a pint and you can regale me with tales of how you plan to rescue me from my dire fate.”
Grace waved that aside. “Just tell me… Are youone hundred percentcertain that it’s 1789?”
Jamie paused, his head tilting to one side. “Aye.” His tone suggested he now thought she’d had enough pints for the day. His face grew serious, again. “On second thought, we’ll forgo the drinks and I’ll simply walk you home. You’re in no condition to be dealing with the likes of me.” He looked her up and down again with genuine regret. “Bloody shame.”
“Jamie, this isn’t a joke! You need to listen to me.”
“Oh, I’m listening to ya.” He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the batty woman thinks she’s come to save me and looks like a fay creature of moonlight… and I’m just going to walk her home. Why am I forever trying to be a bloody gentleman?”
“I’mnotcrazy.” She repeated, ignoring his muttering. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed about that, but it’s true.”
