Page 33 of Ghost Walk
“I can’t.” She backed away from him. “I gottago, Jamie. It might already be too late.”
He didn’t bother to ask what she was late for. He was too busy following her right down the rabbit hole. “Idoknow you.” He said, closing the small distance of her retreat. “God, I would know you anywhere.”
Grace hesitated. “You remember me?” How was that possible?
Jamie shook his head. “I never met you a day in my life… but I’ve still been waiting for you.” Dazed blue eyes traced over her face, memorizing it. “I always knew I’d recognize my bride when she finally showed up.”
Revolutionary era pick-up lines, now? Unbelievable! “Just stay here and make sure you have an alibi until morning.” She took off running, her sandals thudding against the cobblestones. “Then, get out of town!” She called over her shoulder. “I mean it!”
Jamie didn’t seem eager to take that advice. “Where the hell are you going?” He shouted after her. “You didn’teven tell me your name!”
Grace didn’t have the time or oxygen to answer that. She hiked up the length of her dress and jumped over a hedge in her mad dash across town square. Most days, she was embarrassingly unathletic for someone named “Grace” but this wasn’t most days. She needed to get to Lucinda’s house before Jamie’s ex got herself killed.
The Wentworth mansion was three streets over and six blocks up. The quickest way to get there was to cut right through some flower gardens. One of the benefits of living in a place that hadn’t changed since George Washington was president was that time travelers didn’t need a map. It was simple for her to navigate through the familiar landmarks of Harrisonburg. Sure the houses were painted different colors and the trees were smaller and the stars overhead were a thousand times brighter, but this was still her town. She could’ve found the Wentworth house blindfolded.
She’d just prefer to find it in a car.
Grace hadn’t run full out since high school gym and her lungs really weren’t thanking her for the trip down memory lane. It took way too long for her to cover the relatively short distance across town. She was wheezing like a broken accordion by the time she shortcut-ed her way into the Wentworth’s backyard.
Instantly, she saw that Ghost-Jamie had left out a very important detail about the back of Lucinda’s house. While he’d been right about the lack of a porch under her bedroom, he’d forgotten about the rose trellis. It was attached to the side of the house, providing a perfect improvised ladder for anyone who wanted to climb up to the second story.
“Goddamn it!”
It was the worst language she’d used in years, so of course Jamie was there to hear it.
“You’ve got a sailor’s mouth on ya, lass.” He cheerily reported, coming up behind her. “I like that in a woman. Never did care for the timid ones. Much more fun when a girl swears a blue streak and drags you down for a kiss, now and then.”
Grace spared him a sideways look, not very surprised that he’d followed her. Dead or alive, the pirate was incapable of following directions. “You’regoing to lecturemeabout cursing?” She scoffed. “Please.” He used the word “fuck” a half-dozen times just saying “good morning.” She did a quick scan for any footprints in the soft dirt. If she had hairspray and plaster of Paris, she could have made casts of them for comparison. For better or worse, she didn’t see any prints, though.
…Also, she doubted hairspray had been invented yet.
“And, FYI, you calledmetimid yesterday.” She tacked on distractedly.
“Doena recall knowing you yesterday, so perhaps you’re thinking ofanotherdashing Scottish captain. One far less perceptive than me. Also, far less handsome, I’m sure.”
Grace flashed him an exasperated glance. “Must you flirt with every girl you meet?”
“Just the one I’m going to wed.”
“I knew you weren’t going to take this seriously. What are you even doing here? I thought I told you to go establish an alibi.”
“Aye, ya did. But I’ve got no bloody clue what that means, so I decided to join you here in the Wentworth’s shrubbery instead.” He gestured to the bushes, where they were hiding. “Besides, you never told me your name and I’d like to know what to call my future wife.”
He really was an incurable scoundrel. “Any future wife of yours could only be called ‘crazy.’” She assured him.
“Not true. I distinctly recall you telling me you’renotcrazy and you don’t seem one to lie.” He leaned a bit closer. “Come on, lass. Just tell me your name. Please?”
God, he was pretty. “Grace.” She fumbled in the pocket of her sundress, refusing to be distracted by his charm, and came up with her smartphone. “I’m Grace.”
His mouth curved. “Of course you are.” He murmured. “No other name would suit you, a’tall.”
She didn’t even bother to ask what that meant. It was much darker in the past than it was in the modern age ofelectricity and light pollution. How was she supposed to investigate if she couldn’t frigging see? Grace clicked on her flashlight app and shone it up at Lucinda’s room. “Goddamn it!”
The window was open, white curtains blowing in the summer breeze.
“What the hell isthat?” Jamie’s tone went from seductive to astonished. He gaped at the glowing smartphone and she realized that she had zero ways to logically explain it. Ben Franklin flying a kite in a lightning storm was a long way from Apple’s newest technology.
“Okay, fine.” Grace shrugged. “I’m a fairy. Just accept the magic. And, for God’s sake, keep your voice down.” The last thing she needed was someone spotting him at the crime scene. He’d be hanged ahead of schedule.
