some sort of mysticism, hence her celestial name. I guess they still are, judging by the conversation at dinner.” I glanced up at him.
He didn’t react. He was still frowning down at the picture.
“Who’s the young man?” I asked.
“My stepfather, Edward,” he said absently as he picked up the image. “Did you see the girl in the background?”
Cold fingers danced along my spine. “Do you know who she is?”
“She looks familiar, but I can’t seem to place her.” His voice had an almost trancelike quality. “I’ve seen this picture somewhere before, I think.”
“Luna has a similar one hanging in her office. Maybe you’ve seen it.” I held my breath, waiting to find out if he’d been able to see the ghost captured in Luna’s photograph.
“I’ve never been in her office, so that can’t be it.” His face suddenly cleared. “I’ve got it, though. It was a picture I found stuck in a book after my mother died.” He shivered, as though seized by a violent chill. “Whoa. It’s weird how vividly that came back to me just now. I’ve never given it a second thought before tonight.”
“This girl was in it?” I asked more anxiously than I meant to.
“In the background, just the way she is here. I don’t even know why I remember her so well. She’s not exactly beautiful, is she? But there’s something mesmerizing about her. I think it’s the eyes. It’s like she’s looking right at you…” He trailed off, then seemed to shake himself. “Anyway, I remember something else odd about that picture. It had been ripped apart and painstakingly taped back together. When I showed it to Edward, he turned completely white, like he’d been confronted with a ghost almost. He said she was just a girl he’d known a long time ago, before he met my mother. But considering his reaction, I think she must have been a good deal more than a casual friend. And later, when he thought I’d gone to bed, I saw him in his study staring at that picture.”
“He never said who she was?”
“No, but there was a name scribbled on the back. Freya.” He pronounced it Free-a.
“It wasn’t until I came here to live that I actually heard the name,” he said. “Tilly Pattershaw had a daughter name Freya.”
“Had?”
“She died years ago. Probably not long after this photo was taken.” He placed it carefully, almost reverently on the desk.
I thought again of that ghost on the pier, of that curious telepathy I’d felt in her presence. And now here she was, turning up in old photographs, almost as if my very presence had conjured her. “What happened to her?”
Thane shrugged. “A fire, I think. No one ever wanted to talk much about her.”
A shudder of dread went through me, though I had no idea why Freya Pattershaw’s fate should affect me so strongly. “Why does Bryn think Tilly is mentally unstable?”
Thane looked annoyed. “She’s exaggerating. Tilly’s a little strange, but she’s not dangerous. I wouldn’t have suggested she help you out in the cemetery if I thought otherwise.”
“Do you really think she’d be interested in a job?”
“Couldn’t hurt to ask. But I don’t think we should mention Freya. Tilly’s a tough old gal—she’s had to be—but there’s also something fragile about her.”
I looked up, surprised at the protective note in his voice. “I wouldn’t do that.”
But I had so many questions, and I knew I wouldn’t rest until I found answers. I still couldn’t shake the troubling premonition that I’d been brought here for a reason. Everything that had happened, all these strange events, were somehow connected to my arrival in Asher Falls.
“She doesn’t have much use for strangers,” Thane was saying. “It might be best if I go with you to see her. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
I gave a noncommittal nod. “Thanks. But right now, I think it’s time for me to be getting home.” I pushed up from the desk. “Do you want me to help you put everything away?”
“Just leave it. No one ever comes in here, and like Grandfather, I’m hoping you’ll come back.”
My smile was also noncommittal.
We went into the foyer where the maid waited by the door with my bag. Thane walked me outside. The night was clear and very, very still, the forest a looming darkness all around us. But where the tree line was broken at the bottom of the hill, I could see the faint glimmer of moonlight on Bell Lake, so lovely and serene from this distance. Not even a ripple betrayed the stir of restless souls beneath. I shivered, thinking of that rising mist, and pulled my sweater around me as I drew in the crisp, pine-scented air.
Thane took my arm as we walked down the drive, and I was surprised to feel my pulse jump at his touch. When we reached my car, I turned to say good-night, but the words died on my lips. He was staring down at me, eyes glistening like tidal pools in the moonlight. I could see the curve of his lips, too, and the thick shadow of his lashes. We were standing very close, and I fancied I could hear the drum of his heart, though I knew that was only my imagination.
He wanted to kiss me. I could sense his desire as surely as I felt the night air on my face, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I wasn’t ready for anything more than a friendship.
As we stood in that loaded silence, my gaze moved past him and lifted. I could just make out a silhouette on one of the upper balconies. Not a ghost this time, but Pell Asher staring down at us.
Uneasy, I tore my gaze from that shadow.
“I should be going—”
Before I could protest, Thane bent and brushed his lips against mine. I didn’t respond or reject, but my eyelids fluttered closed, and the nervous excitement that quivered in my stomach was more than a little disconcerting. I didn’t want this, and yet I didn’t
But Thane had picked up on my reluctance, and he broke the kiss, putting a hand briefly to my face. “Soon,” he promised, and I nodded vaguely even though I had no idea what he meant.
As I drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him at the top of the drive, illuminated by starlight. He stood there seeing me off, and as I felt an ever-so-slight quickening of my heartbeat, two things occurred to me. Despite his guilt over Harper’s death, he had no ghost.
And secondly, I hadn’t thought of Devlin at all when Thane kissed me.
When I got home, I went straight to the back porch to see about Angus. He was waiting at the door to greet me. I gave him a little extra attention before I let him out, and he rewarded me with a tail wag, which I hadn’t yet seen from him. He was looking so much better, and I thought his coat even had sheen in the moonlight. That may only have been wishful thinking, but I wasn’t imagining his response to my TLC. He pressed up against me, those dark eyes shining with appreciation.
“It’ll soon be bath time for you, mister,” I told him. “I’ve mollycoddled you long enough. Who knows? You may even enjoy it.”
He responded by nuzzling his cold nose against my chin. “Enough of that now. Let’s get on with this so I can go to bed.”
I smothered a yawn as I followed him outside and stood at the bottom of the steps while he prowled the moonlit yard. He took his sweet time, sniffing at every bush and occasionally pawing at something in the dirt. I hated to rush him. From everything I’d read about dog fighting, he’d probably spent most of his life in cramped cages and filthy kennels before being dumped in the woods to starve. Now that he had the luxury of a full belly, I wanted him to enjoy his freedom. But the hour was late, and I was ever mindful of that lake. As I turned to skim the glimmering surface, the moon withdrew behind a cloud, shrouding the landscape in deep shadow. The night fell silent, so deadly still I could hear the whisper of a rising breeze through the leaves and the sudden hammering
