Margrett Dawson Jane's Prize [EC Twilight] (pdf)

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Jane’s Prize

ISBN 9781419917714

Edited by Ann Leveille.

Cover art by Syneca.

Electronic book Publication August 2008

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in

part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing,

Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of

this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or

print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement

without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and

a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print

editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your

support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales

is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

ANE

’

RIZE

Margrett Dawson

Trademarks Acknowledgment

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the

following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Blair Witch Project: Artisan Entertainment Inc.
CNN: Cable News Network LP, LLLP
Coke: The Coca-Cola Company,
Donald Duck: Disney Enterprises, Inc.
Frappuccino: Starbucks U.S. Brands, LLC
Honda: Honda Motor Co., Ltd.
Jeopardy: JEOPARDY PRODUCTIONS, INC.
Mustang: Ford Motor Company
Superman: DC COMICS
Thermos: LAB-LINE Instruments, Inc.
Vaseline: Unilever Supply Chain, Inc.
Wizard of Oz: Turner Entertainment Co.

Jane’s Prize

Chapter One

Jane received the letter from a firm of lawyers in Cove Bay a week after she

answered the newspaper ad.

“Dear Ms. Chartraine,” it said. “We are pleased to inform you that your application to

enter the Newland Challenge has been successful. You should plan to spend your time in the

Newland Mansion in Cove Bay, Maine within the next two weeks and before the fifteenth of

July. Please find enclosed a check for one thousand dollars in confirmation of our good faith. This

is yours to keep no matter the outcome. The remaining four thousand dollars will be issued after

you have spent two days in the mansion—a total of forty-eight hours. Should you not spend the

required amount of time in the house the remaining money will be forfeit.

Needless to say, your safety is important to us. We will inspect the premises before you

arrive and have arranged a patrol during the night. You will be given a speed dial number to call

in case of any emergency. Equipment to make the video recording can be picked up at our offices

at your convenience together with detailed instructions. We can also supply you with a cot,

bedding and portable lights. Please contact us to confirm your acceptance.

The letter finished with the usual salutations.
She showed the letter to her friend Annice over coffee. “The firm’s legit. I checked

them out.”

“You’re still crazy. There’s not enough money in the world would make me do it.”

Annice sipped her double espresso raspberry Frappuccino.

“That’s because you hate the dark and you’re terrified of spiders. Remember when

we went camping in eighth grade?” Jane tried to scoop the last of the foam from the

bottom of her cup with her stir stick.

“There was something outside the tent trying to get in.”
“Yeah, your dog. We were only at the bottom of your yard for heaven’s sake.” Jane

folded the letter. “I’m going to do it. I need the money. Five thousand dollars. Imagine

what I could do with five thousand dollars.”

Annice huffed her scorn. “It’s a scam.”
“It’s not. I can survive for forty-eight hours in an empty house. I don’t think the

place is even supposed to be haunted. Have you ever heard any stories?”

“No. I don’t recall any murders or mysterious lights, but then, it’s fifty miles away.

It’s pretty creepy though. I drove by there once. All towers and turrets and brooding

windows. Supposing there’s someone else there at the same time as you? Like a serial

killer lying in wait for the victim trying to win herself a cool five thousand. And getting

more than she bargained for?”

Margrett Dawson

“Thanks a lot for that encouraging thought but it’s taken care of.” She tapped the

relevant line in the letter. “Security patrol and everything. I’ll take my pepper spray and

bear repellent. Plus a personal alarm around my neck. Add a flashlight, batteries and a

good book to keep my mind off any bumps and creepy noises and it’s in the bag.”

“Better you than me.” Annice stood. “Got to get back to work.”
“Okay.” Jane dropped her empty cup into the trash bin. “Wish me luck.”
The letter gave no clue about who was issuing the challenge or why. Jane turned

the check every way and held it up to the light. It looked genuine. Why would she

refuse a gift like this? Forty-eight hours was nothing out of her life. School was out for

the summer and her class of fifth graders and the upcoming grade fours were dispersed

all over the county and the surrounding states, not to be seen again until after Labor

Day. Besides, she loved a challenge and she had the scars from all the dares her brother

had set her to prove it.

Five thousand dollars would go a long way toward the deposit on the apartment

she wanted to buy. If she ever managed to get enough cash together she could move out

of her mother’s house, start to live her own life… At twenty-eight, it was more than

time.

After supper Jane loaded the dishwasher while her mother sipped her coffee.

“Have you ever heard of the Newland mansion, Mom?” she asked.

“My heavens, why would you ask?”
“I heard the name mentioned the other day. Something in the newspaper.”
Elaine set down her cup. “I didn’t know it was still standing. I thought they would

have torn it down long ago.”

“Why? What’s the story?”
Elaine handed over her empty cup. “Don’t overfill the cutlery rack, dear. The knives

come out spotty.”

Jane moved a couple of pieces. “So what happened at the Newland mansion?”
“It was before my time of course but I heard the story from my grandmother who

lived over near Cove Bay. I’m sure it was exaggerated in the telling. You know how

people love to embroider stories as they go around.”

Jane closed the door of the dishwasher with a little more force than necessary. She

picked up a towel to dry her hands. “What happened, for goodness’ sake?”

Elaine settled back into her chair and moved the pepper and saltshakers to the

center of the table. “Well the Newlands were very wealthy. They owned a whole fleet of

fishing boats, that’s when there was cod and lobster for the taking of course.” She shook

her head. “Those days are long gone.”

“What happened to the Newlands?” Jane tried not to clench her teeth and to keep

her voice low and pleasant.

Jane’s Prize

“Nothing really. They just kind of died out, faded away. There was a son who

disappeared. Some said he ran off with a girl from Boston. Other people said his

stepmother did away with him.”

Jane’s heart gave a little jump and her pulse began to race. “You mean she

murdered him?”

Elaine nodded. “The stepmother had a son and rumor said that she wanted him to

inherit. But he died in a terrible influenza epidemic and there was no one in the family

to carry on. The fleet was sold and the house stood empty. I did hear there was a cousin

who inherited and who said he would never sell the house in case Pierce Newland

came back. It seems they had been good friends when they were young. There was

some kind of a trust set up, I think. Why are you so interested?”

“Someone mentioned it the other day. I was just curious.”
“It must be a complete ruin by now. The roof has probably caved in and goodness

only knows what’s living in there.” She shuddered. “You wouldn’t get me near it.

There’s always been a story that it’s haunted, you know.”

Jane picked up a cloth and began to wipe the spotless counter again. “A ghost?”
Elaine nodded. “Pierce apparently liked the ladies but those who didn’t believe

he’d run off with a girl say he was killed and buried somewhere in the house. His spirit

wanders around the rooms looking for his family.”

A cold shiver crept up Jane’s spine. “Has anyone seen him?”
“One or two. But they’ve mostly been out there partying or smoking dope so there’s

nothing reliable.”

“I guess you can never be sure of having seen a ghost.” Jane gave her mother a

smile and hung the cloth over the tap. “Enough of this creepy stuff. It’s time for

Jeopardy. I’ll turn it on.”

Later that evening she phoned Annice. “It’s haunted,” she said.
“What is?”
“The Newland mansion. There’s a ridiculous story about the last son of the family

being murdered and walking the halls wringing his poor ghostly hands and wailing for

his family.”

“So you won’t go?”
“Of course I’ll go. I don’t believe in ghosts.”

The following Tuesday afternoon, her mother hovered around while she stowed

her gear in the trunk and the backseat. “If you’re going camping won’t you need a tent,

dear?”

“I’ll use shelters or a lean-to.”
“Do you think it will be safe, going off on your own?”

Margrett Dawson

Jane showed her the can of pepper spray and one of bear repellent. “I’ll be fine. I

just need some time away on my own. It’ll help me unwind after last term.” It had been

her year to have the class from hell and it made sense that she needed to destress.

“Don’t forget your phone.”
Jane patted her pocket. “Right here and charged up.”
Her first stop was at the law offices of the firm that had written to her. She met a

plump, motherly woman called Abigail, who introduced herself as an executive

assistant. “Here is your video camera, dear,” she said. “It’s been tested and it’s working

fine. Now all the instructions are in the box but just remember that you’re to walk

around the whole house filming at certain times, especially at night.”

“Why? I mean, why does someone want video of an empty house?”
“I believe the owner wants to sell at last. The house has been empty for years. There

have been some silly stories of a ghost and the owner thinks it’s someone spreading

rumors to scare away buyers and bring the price way down. This way he thinks he can

prove it’s not haunted.” She pushed her spectacles up her nose. “People do funny

things.”

“That’s for sure.”
“Don’t forget we have a short day on Fridays, so bring it in before noon if possible.”
“No problem.”
“I’ll get someone to give you a hand with these things.” Abigail patted Jane’s arm.

“I don’t believe in ghosts, do you, dear?”

“Of course not.”

The little Honda was packed to the gills with boxes of food, spare batteries,

camping equipment and the camcorder when she pulled up in front of the Newland

Mansion in Cove Bay.

The mansion didn’t look in bad shape from where she parked. Maybe parts of the

roof had fallen in but if so, the damage wasn’t visible from the driveway. In fact it was

almost as if the house wanted to look its best for her. The afternoon sun sent probing

fingers of shadow over the carved moldings, picking out delicate traceries around the

windows, hiding cracks and flaking paint. The lawns and flowerbeds were overgrown

of course, but at one time they must have been magnificent.

A turret stood at one end. Curved windows up high promised fine views over the

treetops and interesting angles to the rooms.

Jane climbed the stone steps at the front, one of her cans of pepper spray firmly in

hand, and fit the key the lawyers had given her into the lock of the front door.

The key turned easily and the door opened on oiled hinges. No creepy creaking

here. Someone must have been here to see to things like that. Of course Abigail had said

they wanted to sell, so they would have spruced things up. She hoped that meant they

had swept out the cobwebs and scared away any bats at the same time.

Jane’s Prize

The light was fading by the time she finished hauling in all her equipment and

supplies. She chose a small room near the front door to set up her camp. Since she was

to be alone it gave her some reassurance to be near an escape route and the room had a

window that locked firmly and two doors. Not that she would need to make an escape.

She surveyed her setup with satisfaction from the doorway. It really looked quite

cozy. Almost like her own home. The power had been turned on in the house so she

picked up her can of pepper spray and decided to explore. She had already located a

small bathroom—it was likely called a cloakroom years ago—under the wide stairs. It

appeared to be in working order.

Under the dirt and neglect she could still see the magnificent bones of the house.

The rooms were large and airy with banks of windows and hardwood floors covered

with faded rugs. They were paneled in wood marked with water stains, hung with

brass light fixtures now tarnished, velvet drapes full of dust. Some of the rooms

contained heavy, ornate furniture. A huge mirror with elaborate carving around the

edge was poised above a wide, empty fireplace. Jane recalled a story she’d read by

Margrett Dawson, one of her favorite erotic romance authors. In the book a woman had

pulled a man from the last century through the mirror and enjoyed wild, uninhibited

sex with him.

Jane put out her hand and touched the mirror. Her hand hit solid glass and she

sighed. Fantasies belonged in books.

Opposite the mirror hung a large oil painting, darkened and discolored with age. A

family group was visible in the gloom, obviously a middle-aged father with a young

wife. The woman had her hand on the shoulder of a boy of about six. Behind the couple

and a little apart from them as if wishing to distance himself stood a tall young man

with chestnut hair and glowing dark eyes. Jane moved her head and the man’s eyes

seemed to follow her. He wore a suit in the style of the early twentieth century but the

loose cut could not disguise the width of his shoulders or the careless arrogance of his

stance. Pierce Newland without a doubt.

This had to be the Newland family before Pierce disappeared and before the young

boy died of influenza. What a waste. She stretched out her hand and touched the tip of

her finger to the young man’s cheek. A tiny vibration hummed through her nerves and

she snatched her hand back. Fantasies!

Darkness was closing in fast, so she had better read the instructions on the video

recorder before her first filming at ten p.m. Back in her cozy little room she closed the

drapes, switched on her CD player, poured herself a glass of wine and settled into a

camping chair with the instruction manual and a bag of cheesy tortilla chips. Her

mother hadn’t set eyes on her food supplies. For two days she could indulge herself

with junk food and chocolate with no one to urge her to eat fruits and vegetables. Her

rebellions were small but nonetheless meaningful.

Margrett Dawson

Chapter Two

The book she’d brought with her was absorbing enough and Jane read until her

eyes started to droop. She’d tired herself out picking up the equipment, carrying

around all her boxes. Not to mention that despite her bravado her nerves had been just

a tad on edge since she arrived. She checked her watch. Nearly ten. The house was

deathly quiet. She hastily revised the adjective. It was calm and peaceful. Although

Cove Bay had grown in size since the house was built, the grounds were still extensive

and provided an effective visual barrier and sound buffer. She yawned and put her

book aside. As she did so, an owl hooted from the woods. Perfect for a gothic horror

novel, she thought. She could make her students’ hair stand on end next Halloween by

telling them about her time in the haunted mansion.

At that moment she heard the crunch of wheels on the gravel outside. Carefully she

raised the edge of one curtain. A dark-colored car stood in the driveway and she saw

the driver step out and scan the house with a powerful beam of light. She let out her

breath. The promised patrol. It was good to know the lawyers had kept their word. The

man tried the front door and then moved away, presumably to check at the back of the

house. A few minutes later he came back and the car rolled quietly away.

Time to get to work. She had to earn her prize money.
She picked up the video camera and panned around the room. All seemed to be

working fine. There was even a light attached that would give enough illumination for

nighttime shots. The instructions had stated that she was to film without using the

electric lights. Presumably there was more chance of seeing a ghost in the dark. She

slipped her phone in one pocket, her can of spray in the other and emerged into the

front hall. She checked that the door was locked and obediently shut off the lights in her

room and the hallway, but left the power on in the fuse box near the entrance. Her

flashlight beam swept up the wide staircase but barely reached the first landing.

Overhead lay deep shadows and the expected hush of unused rooms and dust-covered

furniture.

The camera purred faintly as she walked though the house. She couldn’t help

thinking that she was like one of those heroines in badly made films who inevitably and

stupidly went to explore a noise in a dark basement. Except that she wasn’t in a movie,

her spray and her phone were in her pocket, she wasn’t going into any basements and

she knew exactly what she was doing. She could click on lights any time she wanted.

It took about twenty minutes to film the whole house. Nothing was there that

wasn’t supposed to be there, although some of the shrouded furniture did look a bit

spooky. When she came downstairs again she switched the lights back on, quickly used

the bathroom and returned to her nest. She stuck an old Donald Duck nightlight that

Jane’s Prize

she’d found in her bottom drawer at home into a wall socket. The idea was that if she

had to get up in the night she wouldn’t be fumbling around in pitch-blackness to find

unfamiliar light switches. She pulled on a cotton sweatsuit, clicked off the light and slid

into her camping cot, pulling the sleeping bag up to her neck. She closed her eyes.

Immediately her head filled with the image of the young man in the oil painting. In

her imagination his deep-set, knowing eyes gazed at her with a melting look of

invitation. His lips curved in an enticing smile. His face was all sharp planes and square

jaw. Only his mouth was soft, tender. She remembered the zing of the tiny shock when

she touched his face in the portrait. Too bad he was long dead, murdered or not. She

wouldn’t have minded being holed up in a mansion with young Mr. Pierce.

She opened her eyes again. Her body was tired. She just had to settle her mind so

she could rest.

The solution was at hand.
She slipped out of bed by the light of the nightlight and rummaged in her duffle

bag to find her handy-dandy fluorescent pink vibrator.

Back in bed, she slid her track bottoms down her legs and lay for a moment

anticipating the pleasure to come. She opened her legs a few inches and touched herself

with two fingers, finding and massaging her clit. She sucked in breath as the tingle

snaked through her belly and moisture began to dampen her probing fingers. Pushing

her hand further between her legs, she parted the lips of her pussy and spread the

creamy liquid.

With her other hand she clicked the vibrator on and heard its gentle buzz signaling

that it was ready to do her bidding, to pleasure her as long and as hard as she wanted.

Sometimes she inserted the vibrator quick and strong, thrusting as high and deep as

she could, bringing on a climax almost immediately. This time she chose to ease the

shivering tip between her spread lips, teasing her vulva, tantalizing the opening to her

vagina.

She closed her eyes and lifted her knees, moving one hand to her breast, tormenting

the nipple with rhythmic pressure that matched the thrust and parry of the vibrator

between her legs. The image of Pierce filled her mind’s eye once more. She seldom

thought of men she had known when she used her mechanical friend, since most of

them had been a disappointment in bed. She preferred to imagine a lover, a man who

would take her with passion and tenderness, would bring her to the edge of ecstasy and

play with her until she could bear it no longer…

The vibrator snaked deeper into her and she began to massage her clit again, feeling

the lovely shock waves build inside her until she exploded.

As her body relaxed the vibrator slipped from between her thighs. She sighed and

closed her eyes. Her limbs felt boneless and warm, her mind cleared of all those

nagging thoughts. Her vibrator did the trick every time but she couldn’t help imagining

how it would be with a real flesh and blood guy beside her every night. She lived with

her mom to save money and her bank account was growing nicely. When she had her

Margrett Dawson

own apartment at last maybe she could find the man of her dreams. With that hopeful

thought she drifted into sleep.

The sounds seemed at first to be in her dream. She was having coffee with Annice

and some people at a nearby table were arguing. Their voices grew sharper and she

turned her head impatiently to give them the hairy eyeball. It worked with grade five,

and often worked with adults.

But the movement snapped her out of sleep. For a moment she had no idea where

she was. The faint light from the direction of the wall socket outlined her backpack and

clothes thrown over a chair. Memory flooded back. The Newland mansion! She sat up,

trying to get her bearings. Her heartbeat slowed. It was only a bad dream. Her mother

had been right. Junk food before bed will give you nightmares. Heaven alone knew

what dire consequence she’d predict if she knew about her daughter’s addiction to a

vibrator.

The luminous dial on her watch showed one-thirty in the morning. Damn, she must

have forgotten to pull out the little button to set her alarm. She’d been supposed to film

again at one. She pushed her hair back from her face and prepared to get out of bed and

do another tour of the house.

The rise and fall of voices came again. Her fingers froze on her cheek.
It sounded like a radio or a television show but that wasn’t possible. Was it

someone outside? Voices carried a long way in the empty countryside. There was

definitely a man and a woman. Arguing. Surely the patrol hadn’t come back and

entered the house?

Jane slid out of bed and picked up the cell phone. Damn! The little icon on the side

indicated no service. Either she was out of range or the network was down. She hadn’t

checked it earlier, just assumed it would be available. Leaving the useless phone on the

bed, she picked up both the pepper and the bear spray. Except that with one in each

hand she couldn’t carry a flashlight. She glanced at the window. The moon had risen

and it was a clear night. There was enough light in the room to be able to navigate

obstacles. On the whole she preferred the semi-darkness with two cans of spray.

She crept silently from the room and padded toward the sound of the argument,

stopping outside the big room with the fireplace and the oil painting.

Gripping her cans with a finger on each of the nozzles, she peered around the half-

open door. Two shadowy figures stood under the painting, facing each other across a

massive oak table.

She froze in shock. Her first thought was of burglars but she dismissed the

possibility. Burglars would be busy stripping stuff from the house, not having a loud

conversation that could be heard several rooms away. Besides, one was a woman by the

sound of the voice. She crept closer.

Jane’s Prize

As she moved, she checked all the possibilities in her head. She had been sure all

the doors and windows were secure. If the law firm had kept their word there was a

security patrol at regular intervals outside. How then could anyone be in the house?

They couldn’t be.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again. She wasn’t

dreaming. The figures were still there in the faint moonlight. Was this some kind of

practical joke? Some actors dressed up like the people in the picture? Because these two

characters were wearing the exact same costumes as in the oil painting. Pierce Newland

and the young wife.

That still didn’t explain how they had made their way into the house or why.
The two were totally absorbed in their conversation, paying no attention to her. Or

maybe they couldn’t see her? Whatever they were, they seemed harmless enough. Okay,

let’s suppose they are ghosts. What do I do now?

If Anita Blake could face rampaging vampires surely Jane Chartraine could handle

a couple of ghosts. For a moment Jane let herself enjoy looking at Pierce. He was even

better in the flesh. Flesh? How could it be flesh? Weren’t ghosts supposed to be

insubstantial? A flush of color highlighted his jutting cheekbones and his head was

flung back, shoulders square. His eyes were slightly heavy-lidded and dark, set beneath

straight black brows. One arm was raised and he pointed a finger at the woman. Jane

followed the direction of his hand. The woman was dressed in a pale floaty chiffon kind

of gown that reminded her of old silent movies. Her short blonde hair was tightly

waved to her head. She brandished a cigarette in a long holder and her nails were

bright scarlet. Talk about your stereotypical vamp!

“I know what you’re up to!” Pierce’s angry tones rang out in the large room. Jane

was pleased to hear that he spoke well, his voice was deep and clear. He turned away,

hands tightly clenched behind his back, and strode to the window.

The woman took a drag on her cigarette. “You are wrong, dear Pierce, I assure you.

This family has to stay together. Please let me fix you a drink. I know we can settle our

differences.”

She turned away and went to a sideboard filled with bottles and glasses. Jane

blinked. How come she hadn’t noticed that earlier? Because it hadn’t been there, that’s

why.

The woman poured from a cut glass decanter into a tall glass. At the last moment

she took something tucked inside the bodice of her gown and dropped it into the drink.

Jane gasped. Poison. She was going to poison Pierce. Had it all been true? Had he really

been murdered?

Whether she was seeing ghosts, hallucinating, or these were real people playing a

trick on her, Jane’s instincts took over just as they had when Melanie Brown had choked

on a peanut butter sandwich at the end of term picnic. She took three running strides

into the room and flung herself on Pierce. She dropped one of her spray cans and

grasped his arm. “Don’t drink it! She’s poisoned it.” Still holding on to him, she swung

Margrett Dawson

around to the woman who was standing close, drink in one hand cigarette in the other,

mouth open in astonishment. Jane held her breath and her finger exerted pressure on

the nozzle. A stream of pepper spray hit the woman directly in the face.

The blonde threw up her hands, sending the liquid from the drink everywhere, and

crumpled, coughing and spluttering. The glass rolled on the carpet.

“Quick,” Jane said, tugging on Pierce’s arm. “Close your eyes, don’t breathe.” She

pulled him from the room down the hallway and unlocked the front door. She shoved

him out into the clear air and let go the breath she’d been holding.

“Sorry about that,” she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “But you have to get

out fast with that stuff.”

Pierce had pulled a large white handkerchief from somewhere and mopped his

face.

“Whatever it was you did, I guess you thought it was the right thing. Your

intentions were good.”

“Oh yes, my intentions were exactly right.”
The tears cleared from her eyes and she took a good look at him. Close up he was

just as much a hunk as he’d seemed in the portrait.

The portrait.
“Just a minute,” she said. “I saw your picture in there.”
He nodded. “That’s right. My father commissioned it before he died.”
She cleared her throat. “When was that exactly?”
“July 1927.”
She had to ask the question. “So what are you doing here? Who are you?”
He gave a little bow. “Pierce Newland at your service. Strictly speaking, I’m a

ghost.” He rubbed his hands down his arms. “Or I was a ghost. I feel pretty solid right

now. You touched me. If you touch a ghost you bring it into the present as flesh and

blood.”

Jane felt faint. “I didn’t know that about ghosts. Remind me not to touch another

one.”

He laughed. “Not very likely. How many ghosts do you encounter in a lifetime?”
“Not too many.” She put out her hand to steady herself and Pierce seized her

fingers. His were warm and firm.

“You need to sit down. It’s a bit of a shock resurrecting a ghost and being

responsible for him.”

“Responsible?” She was beginning to sound like an echo.
“You know the saying that when you save someone’s life you’re responsible for

them forever?”

Jane’s Prize

Did she? She couldn’t remember if she’d known that or not because Pierce had

pulled her against his side and his arm was now around her waist. She breathed in a

lovely aroma of tweed and soap and man.

He was still talking as he led her to a stone bench set into some bushes. “Do you

have a name?”

“Jane.”
“That’s it?
“Right. Just plain Jane.”
“Well, plain Jane, I’m pleased to know you, although you’re anything but plain.

You’re quite beautiful in fact. As I was saying, it’s the same with a ghost. You touch,

you own.”

She had an insane desire to giggle. It was like one of those notices warning about

breakages in souvenir shops. The heady perfume from the bush mingled with Pierce’s

scent, making her dizzy and disoriented.

He sat her down on the bench and she bent forward to put her head between her

knees. His hand was on the nape of her neck, his fingers stroking up into her hair. God

it felt good.

What was she thinking? She sat up. “So what’s it like being a ghost?”
He sat next to her, his hand still on her. “Pretty damn boring. You have to come

back at least once a month to your assigned haunt and go through the last hour or so of

your life. Over and over again.”

“Really? I had no idea there were rules.”
“Of course. How do you think ghosts keep from running into each other? Some

places, like dungeons, might have half a dozen spirits wandering around. They have to

take their turn.”

“I see. So who is the woman?”
“My stepmother. She really did poison me, so she’s in a different category.” His

hand moved from her neck to her shoulder and he pulled her against him. “She’s

condemned to haunt. I do it because I’m supposed to be looking for rest.”

“And are you?”
“I guess I am. Was. I’m not sure what happens now. Not too many of us get to come

back as real people.” He stroked her hair with his other hand, pushing it back from her

face. “I guess I’ll know if I stay around. I’m very grateful to you. You know the worst

thing about being a ghost?”

“I couldn’t begin to imagine.” She breathed the words and her pulse quickened, a

delicious fog seeping into her mind. This was pure fantasy, divorced from real life.

Whoever heard of a ghost becoming a flesh and blood man? If this was a hallucination

she’d make the most of it. Her body was no longer under her control, her limbs heavy,

her whole being concentrated on the warmth, the scent, the feel of him. She leaned into

him, his chest a solid, warm wall at her side. Suddenly she was conscious of the thin

Margrett Dawson

cotton of her pull-on top sliding over her breasts, and her nipples puckered. The same

delicious ache as when she used her vibrator began in her belly. The cotton pants grew

moist between her legs.

“The worst is not being able to touch people, to feel the flesh under your hands…”

His fingers traced a pattern on her back. “Not breathing in the scent of a woman…” He

tilted her chin toward him with his free hand. “Touching your lips to hers. I haven’t

kissed a woman for eighty years.” The last words were whispered against her mouth.

“I’ve dreamed of holding a woman in my arms again. May I?” The pressure of his lips

was gentle on hers.

Jane’s Prize

Chapter Three

She groaned and melted against him. Her lips opened as if of their own accord as

she responded to a man who craved a woman as much as she had longed for a living,

breathing man. What had he said? She was responsible for him. He was hers.

His free hand trailed from her chin down her neck to her shoulder, to her breast.

Her back arched, thrusting her chest against his seeking fingers. “Yes,” she breathed

again. “Yes.” She didn’t care if she was shameless, driven by primitive lust and instinct.

She glued her lips to his, turned more toward him and lifted one leg over his knees. He

made an appreciative sound in his throat, dropped his hand to her bottom and lifted

one cheek more fully onto his lap.

She raised her arm to loop it around his neck. Her watch glimmered as the

moonlight caught it.

Shit! She pulled her mouth from his and looked at the time. “Shit!” she said aloud.
“What is it?”
“It’s two o’clock. I was supposed to film at one.”
She thrust herself away from him. “This is lovely, Pierce, and please don’t think I’m

not enjoying it but I’ll have to take a rain check. Can we pick this up again later?” She

was on her feet already, pulling down the top of her tracksuit to cover her bare midriff.

“Come with me.” She took him by the hand and pulled him to his feet. “Stay with

me. I don’t want you disintegrating and disappearing. We have unfinished business.”

She led him into the house and picked up the video camera in her room. She

switched it on. “Follow me. And I mean follow. I don’t want you in any of the shots.”

This time it took her less than twenty minutes as she jogged through the rooms,

panning around each one of them. As they went through the room with the oil painting

she had time to notice that the blonde woman and the bar had disappeared.

Pierce strode after her through the rooms that had once been so familiar to him. He

still felt stunned at his rapid transfer from ghost to living, breathing humanity and he

still had to figure out the woman who had brought him back. She wasn’t like any

female he’d come across in his first life. In those days there had been a clear distinction

between “good girls” and the ones who would do whatever a man wanted. Jane’s

response to his kiss had been surprising to say the least. Yet she didn’t act or speak like

a loose girl, despite the strange clothes and lack of corsets.

She obviously had some kind of job to do and was going about it seriously. In the

dim light he could see her face set in concentration, a pale oval with smooth skin. He

had already noted the deep blue of her eyes. She was pretty, and young. Getting to

know her better would be exciting.

Margrett Dawson

Back in her room Jane set the camcorder down and turned to Pierce. “We have

three hours until the next one.”

“The next what? You’ll forgive me but I have no idea what you were doing.”
Her gaze locked on to his like metal drawn to a magnet. The last thing she’d

expected in this assignment was to find a man who exuded sexual attraction like she’d

never felt before. Her head told her to be sensible but her heart silenced the nagging

voice of reason. She was out of her everyday world and in some fantasyland which

promised her untold delight if she would only believe.

“Let’s save the explanations for later, shall we? What were you saying about not

having kissed a woman for decades?”

She stepped close to him and tried to put her arms around his neck. To do it she

would have to lift herself almost on tiptoe. She knew he was tall but hadn’t realized

how tall. She was no midget, standing a tad over five-six in her stocking feet, but he was

a good head taller. That made him about six-three. She gave up on his neck and

satisfied herself with slipping her hands inside his open jacket. The tweed was slightly

scratchy and the friction sent little shivers up her arms. The lining inside the jacket was

silky and cool, the perfect yin to the yang of the hairy tweed. If those feelings were

delicious, his body was even better. Her probing fingers traced the swell of hard

muscles beneath his linen shirt.

Close up she could appreciate even more the slant of his jaw and the shape of his

mouth. His lips were full and soft-looking. About the only soft thing about him. His

heart hammered under her palm as her hand rose up his ribs. Nice to know he was

growing as aroused as she was. He put his arms around her and drew her in tighter

until there was not even a hairsbreadth between them. She felt the other hardness then.

His erection pressed against the soft flesh of her belly. She wanted to open her legs

more than she’d wanted anything for a long time.

She tilted her face up and he understood she needed more of those wonderful

kisses. He obliged immediately and this time his mouth ravaged hers, his tongue

thrusting inside her mouth, licking, probing. His thighs pressed against her legs.

Warm hard hands slipped under her thin top and wandered up her back then

around to her breasts. Since she wore nothing under the cotton suit, she got the

immediate benefit of the probing fingers that circled around her nipples. He seized each

bud between thumb and forefinger. Immediately her thighs were bathed with a fresh

gush of creamy moisture.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t move and hung like a doll in his arms. The pressure

from his thighs pushed her back until she met the resistance of her rumpled cot. They

fell onto the bed and she squirmed around until she lay completely underneath him.

She pushed on his shoulders until he released her bruised mouth. “Let me get my

clothes off.”

“Best idea yet.” He rolled off her and onto his feet.

Jane’s Prize

She sat up and pulled her top over her head. The cooler air on her superheated skin

felt wonderful. He had already shucked his jacket and shirt by the time she stood to slip

her pants down. She kicked them off and watched as he undid the buttons of his fly, his

suspenders hanging around his hips. His chest was every bit as gorgeous as she’d

imagined. Donald Duck in the wall socket was still doing a good job and Pierce’s skin

gleamed, muscles rippling in the faint glow. A wedge of dark hair spread across his

chest and down until it disappeared into his pants. His nipples were brown and flat,

nestled in a swathe of silky hair. She absolutely knew it would be silk beneath her

fingers.

Six-pack abs is what they called them but Jane had never seen them in real life

before except on cover models. Maybe more men had them a century ago, or there was

something about being a ghost that produced a body to die for, excuse the pun.

She dragged her eyes away from the wavelets in his chest and watched in

fascination as he discarded his trousers. He wore long cotton underwear like short long

johns but it was far from comic. The thin fabric clung to every line and hollow of his

hips and thighs and cupped the delicious mound at the base of his belly. She was

almost sorry when he pulled the underwear down. Almost, because what he then

revealed was worth waiting for. A line of dark hair inched down his abdomen and

finished in a neat nest around his penis and balls. His cock was thick and looked

incredibly long as it stood away from his body, hard and proud.

She stretched out her hand toward him. “Oh my God!”
He grinned at her, a shit-eating grin like Jack Nicholson in his younger days. “Like

it?”

“So far I love it. What are you going to do with it?” Was this Jane Chartraine

talking? Plain Jane who lived at home and kept her vibrator hidden behind some boxes

on the top shelf of her closet where her mother would never find it? Where had she ever

learned to say things like that?

His gaze swept her from head to toe and she knew he liked what he saw. “I’m

going to invite you to lie down again and spread those lovely legs. Then I’m going to

kiss you and lick you all over.” She closed her eyes as uncontrollable tremors rippled

through her. Imagining it was driving her half crazy. Doing it would send her over the

edge.

“Open your eyes.” She obeyed. He touched his cock and it jumped a little. “Then

I’m going to push this right inside you as hard and as far as it will go. Does that sound

good?”

“It sounds too good to be true.”
“It will be true, never fear. So are you going to lie down for me?”
Jane settled on her back and kept her eyes on him as he came nearer. He paused by

the side of the cot. “Touch me,” he said. She put out one hand and ran her fingers along

the velvety shaft. It was his turn to close his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“The pleasures of the flesh,” he murmured. “There’s nothing else like it.”

Margrett Dawson

“Come to me,” she whispered and spread her legs wide.
He lowered himself on the cot gently, as if anxious not to be too rough in his need,

and crouched between her thighs. “I want to taste you.”

“Yes.” She bent her knees to give him access to her most intimate parts.
His tongue edged between her pussy lips and he wrapped his arms around her

knees. The tip of his tongue licked and teased her clit in a way her own fingers never

had. She was so wet she thought her insides must be melting. Her hands rested on his

hair and she held him there while his clever tongue thrust deeper inside her.

She felt his teeth nip at the loose flesh of her clit while he tongued the nub once

again. She cried out half in agony, half in delirious joy.

At the sound, he lifted his head. “Too soon,” he murmured.
He slid along her body and took her nipple between his lips. As he drew it into his

mouth he edged his cock between her legs. Slowly he nudged her legs even wider open

and his long hard shaft began to fill her.

She cried out again and he withdrew a fraction.
“No,” she moaned. “Stay there!”
He raised his head to look at her, watch her. She felt his soft breath on her cheek.
“Put your arms around me.”
After a moment’s hesitation she raised her arms to rest on his shoulders. His skin

was warm and silky under her caress. Immediately his hands found her breasts and his

mouth claimed hers. With a murmur of acquiescence in her throat, she allowed him his

way.

Never had she met a man who concentrated on a woman with such intensity, as if

everything else on earth had ceased to exist. True, he claimed not to have made love to

a woman for decades, but there was something more than raw hunger in him. She had

supposed she would embark on a purely physical encounter but as she allowed herself

to float away she felt a tremor of unease—a peculiar combination of apprehension and

pleasure at being the focus of such fierce attention. Instinct told her this was a man who

could not only make her want to be naked with him but could also strip her mind bare,

could discover everything worth knowing about her, every private fold of flesh and

thought.

Part of her wanted to hold back, to save something of herself, but she couldn’t do it.

And he was just as wild, his mouth hungry on hers, eager on her body, his hands

trembling as they moved over her. He murmured her name and his voice was rough

and urgent, adding to the power of his caress.

She was drowning, letting herself go, knowing she was lost. The possibility of any

protective emotional distance was an illusion. Whether she liked it or not, life meant

emotional involvement and involvement meant taking risks.

Her head told her this was one big risk.

Jane’s Prize

He entered her a little more and the wave began to build again deep inside her.

Until he withdrew again.

Her cries were almost continuous now, deep moans torn from her throat as she

tossed her head from side to side, begging and pleading with him for release.

At last, he took pity on her and the tip of his cock came to rest tight up against the

wall of her womb. If she had thought the rest was unbearable, this was sweet torture.

He pressed against the sensitive spot deep inside her and she came with a final cry and

a rush of moisture.

Within seconds she felt his body convulse and his cock thrust even harder as he was

racked by his own release.

After, when he lay inert in her cot and she heard his regular breathing she slipped

from his side. It was as if she had opened a door to a dark, mysterious cave and stepped

inside. There she had been shaken by what she had encountered.

She stood by the window, lifted the curtain and gazed out in the darkness, looking

at her reflection. Emotions were universal and timeless and her emotions had rioted out

of control. Were still making her heart pound and her skin tingle. In the window glass

she watched herself run the tip of her tongue over her bruised and swollen lips.

Emotions could trump reason over and over again. One of the strongest emotions was

love. The truth of that could not be denied.

Why was the word “love” floating on the edge of her consciousness?

She returned to the bedside and looked down at Pierce as he slept. She was a grown

woman with free choice. She could leave, she could find somewhere else to sleep or she

could stay. She slipped into the bed and nestled against him. He murmured something

and wrapped his arms around her. She sighed. She might pretend to herself that she

still had a choice but in her heart she knew it was made.

They slept curled in each other’s arms until her watch beeped at five in the

morning.

“Oh God!” She flung an arm over her eyes. “It can’t be time.”
Pierce nuzzled her neck. “Time for what? Are you ready again?”
His cock stirred against her thigh.
“I have to film.”
She pushed the covers from her naked body. “What the hell did I do with my

clothes?”

“Stay naked,” he whispered. “Who’s to see you but me? And I love you naked.”
He was right. The night was warm. There was no reason to wear a stitch of clothing.
“Only if you do the same. Sauce for the goose, you know.”
“Only too happy to oblige.”

Margrett Dawson

He sat on the edge of the cot. “But you have to tell me what this is all about. Why

you’re here and why you’re doing this filming, as you call it.”

She explained to him while she located the video recorder.
“So my little cousin has decided to sell at last?”
“That’s what I understand.”
He followed her into the dark hallway and she switched on the light over the

camera.

“And he wants to show that the house isn’t haunted,” he said.
“That’s right. Well I guess there’s one less ghost now.”
“Oh my stepmother won’t be back. She has nothing to draw her here now that I

seem to be in the land of the living once more.”

He padded behind her. When she stopped to take pictures he rested his hand on

her bare ass and stroked up and down. She felt her heart start to race again and knew

she would be ready for him as soon as they returned to the bed. Or even before that.

Upstairs he stopped her with a hand on her arm outside the turret room. “This was

my favorite room,” he said. “I used to sit here and read or write letters and look out

over the fields to the ocean.”

She opened the door. “I’m afraid there aren’t too many fields left now but the water

is still there.”

The room no longer had any drapes at the windows and moonlight flooded in,

outlining a desk and chair in silver. Bookshelves lined the walls and the light glinted on

gold lettering on the spines of dozens of books.

“My library! Most of it’s still here.” Pierce looked around him in delight.
He turned her around as she finished filming and placed his hands on her hips. “I

want you again.”

“I know.” She put her hand around his cock and gently stroked up and down. His

hands slid down the cheeks of her ass and cupped the globes. His fingers crept inward

and wriggled into her cleft. He stroked the skin behind her vagina. The touch might

have been an electric shock. She gasped and stiffened. He probed further, one set of

fingers caressing the puckered hole, the other creeping to her pussy and her wet

opening.

“Let’s do it on the desk.”
She was incapable of coherent speech but managed to nod.
He turned her and led her up to the desk. “Kneel on it.” Hands on her hips again,

he lifted her onto the hard surface. She inhaled scents of leather and tobacco. She sank

to her knees and rested her weight on her forearms.

He stood behind her and continued to rain featherlike caresses on her ass, in her

cleft around and down and in and through, spreading the moisture between the cheeks.

Jane’s Prize

His hands moved to her dangling breasts and he worked them, alternately cupping and

pulling them.

He eased one finger into her moistened anus, making her exclaim and lift her head.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “You’re too tight and I don’t want to hurt you. We’ll get you

ready for that another time.”

She was beyond caring what he did to her. She was vaguely aware of the hard, cold

desk pressing into her elbows and knees but all her feelings, physical and emotional,

were concentrated between her legs.

“Are you ready for me now?”
She murmured in reply. She might have said Yes or Please.
She felt him spread the cheeks of her ass with two hands and then his cock was in

her cleft. He rubbed the tip up and down and she knew how wonderful it would feel

when he made her ready to take it there. She was not afraid of him. She had known him

for a matter of hours yet she trusted him. He would not hurt her or do anything she

didn’t want.

“How does that feel?” he murmured, moving closer so his cock was held tight in

her crack, leaving his hands free. He used them to touch her throbbing breasts again.

Jane whimpered and sucked in her lower lip.
“Why don’t you tell me what you want, Jane? Talk to me.”
She panted her response. “Oh God, Pierce. I want this to go on forever but I want to

come. I need to come right now.”

I need to come right now. Had she really said that? Had she begged a man she’d only

just met to fuck her stupid? No question she’d left her quiet, sane world outside that

massive front door of the Newland house. Her body quivered with her need for release.

She didn’t care how he did it to her—here on the table doggy style, or maybe he would

throw her onto her back and ram himself into her… She’d welcome him any way he

chose.

“That sounds like an order.” She heard his throaty laugh, felt his cock still pressing

insistently against her ass. His voice was rough against her neck. She would lay odds he

wanted it as much as she did.

His hands left her breasts and inched their way to the pulsating spot between her

legs. “I could make you come like this.” His fingers brushed her clit and she bucked

against him. His hand moved away, burning against the skin of her thighs. Heat swept

through her in a wave. She might melt on the spot, her body a puddle of molten lava.

She moaned. “Touch me there again.”

His fingers found the spot once more and probed amongst her wet folds, almost

sending her over the edge. But she held on, knowing there could be more. More of these

sensations she’d never before experienced and might never again.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered in her ear. “Do you like my fingers there?”

Margrett Dawson

She pushed against him in response, the cheeks of her behind rammed tight against

his abdomen, and still with that huge, throbbing cock securely anchored against her.

She could feel it, feel its weight, its fire…

He returned one hand to her breast, fondling and tweaking, sending shards of heat

directly to her clit where his thumb stroked her with a feather touch. It was true what

she had told him. She wanted it to go on forever, because no man had touched her for

so long. And no man had ever touched her like this.

At the same time she wanted to come. Her whole body ached for release. Her head

hung down and she watched his hand move between her thighs. She had no thoughts.

She barely had any conscious desires. Her whole being was concentrated in the spot

between her legs where Pierce slipped two fingers inside her.

She cried out, a long wail of yearning. “You’ll make me come.”
“Isn’t that the idea?”
He pulled his fingers out of her and tilted her hips toward him and upward,

holding her while he guided his cock into her expectant vagina. She felt the tremors

already, knew she was close to the fireworks display. She felt every delicious fraction of

him slide into her, spreading her wide. Because of the angle, he filled her completely.

When he was sheathed deep inside her he paused. “God, that feels good.” Then he

began to move with rhythmic strokes.

The fingers of one hand returned to wriggle between her pussy lips and the other

hand held her nipple. Strong waves of pleasure began to build like a second heartbeat

deep in her abdomen. As he held her tight she bucked and moaned against him. She

could wait no longer.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” she cried. She threw her head back and arched against

him with the force of her orgasm and felt the hot surge of his cum at the same time as

the wave in her abdomen crested and broke. It seemed to last forever and yet was over

far too soon.

As she sucked in breath she heard Pierce breathing deeply above her. “Fantastic.

Absolutely, bloody fantastic.” He moved his cock inside her and she shivered.

She had to agree with him. Never had she had an orgasm like that. Even with her

vibrator it had never come close. This man had known even better than she did how to

touch her, how to pleasure her. It was as if he’d known her body in every intimate

detail for years rather than hours.

Jane’s Prize

Chapter Four

When had it begun to feel natural to walk around naked in an abandoned Victorian

mansion, in the dark, hand in hand with a materialized ghost?

Jane had no idea. Twelve hours ago she had arrived with bravado, scoffed at the

stories of hauntings and fantasized about men who would ravish her as soon as look at

her.

Apparently she had abandoned the first and heartily accepted the second.
After the mind-blowing sex, Pierce held her and kissed her and led her back to her

cozy little room where they snuggled into the narrow cot.

They lay like spoons and Pierce cupped her breast with the hand that lay over her

waist. She could feel his cock and balls nestled against her bottom.

Her body was drained of energy yet still throbbing and glowing. More alive than

she had ever been, she closed her eyes, whispered “good night” and drifted into sleep.

When she awoke, it was full daylight and her back was cold. Her first panicky

thought was that Pierce had disappeared. That all the events of the past night had been

a dream, a fantasy brought on by the stories of the house, the painting and too many

cheesy tortilla chips.

She turned over and saw him sitting in her camping chair, dressed in his old-

fashioned suit and seemingly lost in thought. He heard her move and lifted his head. A

beam of sunlight touched the side of his face, throwing shadows under his eyes and

around his mouth.

“Good morning.”
She sat up and pulled the covers over her breasts. “You’re still here.”
He rose from the chair and knelt by the cot. He kissed her. Stubble grazed her cheek

and pricked her lips. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “It seems I’m here to

stay. Did you expect me to disappear?”

She let her fingers trail down his face, tracing the outline of his mouth, exploring his

jaw line. “I didn’t know what to expect. I haven’t had much experience with ghosts. In

fact, I didn’t believe in them.”

“Most people don’t. If they do believe they usually invent all kinds of things to

scare themselves half to death. Ghosts are just people, you know. They wouldn’t hurt

you any more than a normal person would. A few rotten apples have given us a bad

name.”

She pressed her mouth to his. He ran the tip of his tongue just inside her lips. The

nerve endings tingled all the way to her crotch.

Margrett Dawson

“You don’t feel like a ghost.”
“I’m not a ghost, not anymore.”
“Right.” On a sigh she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him on to the

bed. The feel of his tweed suit against her skin was intensely erotic. She continued to

kiss him and fumbled at the buttons of his old-fashioned fly to release his penis.

Her eyes closed, mouth glued to his, she caressed the shaft as it grew. Satisfied, she

spread her legs and guided him into her.

They climaxed almost immediately. “What a wonderful way to start the day,” she

murmured.

“No reason it couldn’t happen every morning.”
Her eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”
“I told you. You’re responsible for me. I shall have to come to live with you.”
She gave him a shove so she could sit up and swing her legs out of the bed. “I think

I need some coffee before I can discuss this.” She padded quickly to the bathroom and

slipped on the toweling robe she had stuffed into her bag. Yesterday she’d had a vague

idea of looking for a working shower. It was still a good idea.

She’d also brought a large Thermos jug of coffee. It was a bit stewed but it was hot

and strong. She poured two cups and added creamer. “Do you take sugar?”

“Three please.”
“Three?” She raised her eyebrows then cut off any further remark. In the 1920s few

people had been worried about overindulgence in sweets.

There were some assorted muffins in a box and she offered them to him. She took

one and bit into it. They were getting stale but thank God they were crammed full of

sugar and fat. She needed a boost to her metabolism.

By her second cup of coffee she was thinking more clearly. She took a deep breath

and smiled at Pierce. “We need to try to figure out what you want to do.”

“I know what I want to do. I want to be with you so I can make love to you every

night and most of the day.” He crammed the last of the muffin in his mouth. “Can I

have another one of those?”

She passed him the box.
“There’s more to life than that.”
“Is there?” He gave her that shit-eating grin again and then his face grew serious. “I

know there’s more to life than that. It’s just that I enjoyed making love to you so much

that I can’t imagine not being with you.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”
He poured himself more coffee and added four sugars. “So tell me. Why aren’t you

married?” He paused, the cup halfway to his mouth. “Oh God, you aren’t, are you? Tell

me you’re not married.”

Jane’s Prize

“I’m not married. I’m a teacher. I’ve taught fifth grade for five years and I think it’s

about time I thought of changing… She sipped her coffee. “After I graduated I had a

mountain of student debt. I knew I’d never get on my feet on a teacher’s salary without

some help. So I went back to my old room, packed away the dolls and school prizes,

repainted and bought new linen. It’s a big room with space for my computer in the

corner and Dad’s old desk where I can grade papers.”

He listened intently until she finished, “So I accepted to spend two nights in this

house because I want the money. It’s like winning the lottery.”

He put down his cup and brushed crumbs from his hands. “I was thinking before

you woke up. I want you to fill me in on what has happened in the world since I died. I

know there must have been a lot.”

“You could say that.”
“I want to know just enough to let me go talk to my cousin, who has to be over

ninety now.”

“When was he born?”
“1918. But our family has good genes. I can remember a couple of uncles into their

nineties. That’s why they didn’t believe I’d died so young. My cousin was a few years

younger than me but he kind of followed me around.”

“If he’s still alive.”
“I never saw him on the other side.”
For a second she didn’t understand what he meant. For some reason she’d never

thought of the dead meeting up in family groups but it made sense.

“But even if he’s dead,” Pierce said, “maybe he has a son or a daughter with

instructions from him. Someone made the contract with you to stay in the house and

someone is planning to sell it. You said my cousin refused to sell years ago in the hope I

would come home.”

“Tell me about him. Why would he insist on waiting so long for you to return?”
Pierce shrugged. “He was a funny little sprout. Not at all athletic, which upset his

dad no end. But he couldn’t get enough of baseball. I used to take him to the games

every weekend. Once, we even went to Boston.” He smiled. “He got some autographs

and said it was the best day of his whole life.”

That went some way to explaining the cousin’s devotion. He must have hero-

worshipped his manly relative who took the trouble to spend time with him.

“I’ll arrive on his doorstep,” Pierce continued, “and tell him I’m Pierce’s grandson.

You’re a teacher. If you teach me enough I can do it.”

He took her hands in his. “Then maybe I can inherit this house. I’ll find a way to

earn a living and we can be together.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I didn’t lose my brains during the last ninety years. I

know you don’t know me, you can’t love me yet. I think I’ve shown you how you’ve

bowled me over. I never expected to come to life, much less to find a beautiful woman

Margrett Dawson

so ready to share my fantasies. I want a chance to prove to you that you really want me

to be your slave for the rest of our lives.”

It sounded totally crazy to her but what hadn’t been crazy the whole time she’d

been in this house? What was one more mad idea? Besides, the thought of getting to

know him more gradually soothed many of the little panicky feelings fluttering in her

chest.

After all, what did they have to lose? From what Pierce said he was here to stay

whether as the grandson of the family, her lover or whatever else. She might have to

help him get some kind of ID but in the euphoria of the moment that was the least of

her concerns.

“I’ll think about what you need to know,” she said. “But first you can tell me

something. Is there such a thing as a shower around this place?”

He shook his head. “No showers that I can remember but lots of baths. I’ll go

outside for some wood.”

He sprang to his feet and made for the door.
“Hold on a minute! Wood?”
“If it’s the same old boiler, you have to light a fire under it to heat the water.”
He saw the dubious expression on her face. “We had servants.”
“I guess you’d have to.” It had been clear when she first went into the house that it

had electric power. “Let’s check first to see if they converted the furnace to electricity

when they wired the house.”

“Good thinking.”
Pierce led the way through a cavernous kitchen where tarnished copperware hung

from racks. A massive cast iron stove took up almost all of one wall. But the place was

clean. A crew had obviously been hired to spruce it up before the prospective sale. Lots

of creepy things probably still lurked under the cabinets and sinks but Jane resolved not

to think about them.

Pierce located the boiler, which looked more modern than the rest of the appliances.

It was all relative because the heater was still enormous. An electrical switch sat on the

adjacent wall.

“Thank heaven.” Jane smiled. “Is there water in it? We don’t want the whole thing

to blow up.”

“Good thinking,” Pierce repeated. “I’ve been out of touch for too long.”
Water and power assured, they stood and looked at the monster. Jane sighed. “I

guess it will take a while.”

“With that amount of water? It used to take all day but I don’t know with this new

system.”

“I’d guess a couple of hours. I need some fresh air. Let me throw some clothes on

and we’ll go for a walk. I’ll start your first history lesson. Tell me what you last

remember…”

Jane’s Prize

It was a beautiful summer morning. The sky was an improbably perfect blue and a

light breeze blew from the direction of the water. Pierce drew in a deep breath.

“Intoxicating,” he said. “God, what a lot I’ve been missing. I shall be eternally grateful

to you for grabbing hold of me.”

They walked through the grounds for a couple of hours, stopping occasionally to

admire the view and more often to kiss. Jane talked a blue streak, trying to think of

everything that Pierce would need to know if he was to carry off his deception. World

Wars flashed by as they ambled under the beech trees. Cold War and détente were

covered as they crossed a grassy meadow. She listed the presidents, particularly the last

ones.

At the door of the kitchen she paused at last. “I don’t know about you, but I’m

talked out. Let’s check on the water.”

The boiler was nicely warm.
“Where’s the bathroom?”
“Fetch your things and follow me. There should be towels in the linen closet, which

if I remember correctly is this way.”

He opened a door onto a narrow passage lined with shelves. Sheets, pillowcases

and bedcovers were stacked in dusty piles. One section held carefully folded towels.

“Here we are.” He grabbed a couple of yellowed bath sheets and pulled them out. Two

tiny brown shapes leaped from the shelf and disappeared behind the adjoining stack.

Jane jumped back with a squeak of alarm and clamped her hands on Pierce’s arm.

Pierce dropped the bundle he was holding. Each towel was shredded in the center,

leaving sparse strands of cotton dangling in the air. He put an arm ‘round her

shoulders. “Nothing to worry about. We disturbed a homemaking activity.”

Jane shuddered. She wasn’t particularly squeamish but the two little mice had

given her a shock. She laughed. “I guess we leave them to it. I have a towel in my pack.”

“We’ll pick it up on the way.”
He led her up the stairs to a room that looked over the back of the house, where the

kitchen garden and stables had once been. A wide bed with a dusty red cover occupied

most of the space. The windows were hung with heavy drapes.

“This was my room. Not much has changed.” Pierce ran his fingers over an oak

chest. “The bathroom is through here.”

He opened a door on a wall next to the window and showed her into a bathroom

that might have featured in a New York home decorating magazine aimed at the retro

look.

A large white china jug and basin, both decorated with swirls of blue flowers, stood

on a washstand under the window. Sunlight streamed directly onto a huge claw-foot

tub that sat in the middle of the floor. It had curved sides and a high back, like

something from a Wild West movie.

Margrett Dawson

“Big enough for two, do you think?” Pierce turned oversized faucets inlaid with

ceramic discs that announced Hot and Cold.

The water gushed out, brown and foaming. “Yuck!” Jane sprang back.
“Let it run for a while. The pipes are all cast iron.” He put his arm ‘round her and

drew her close, his eyes on the rushing stream.

Sure enough after a few minutes the color faded. Pierce released her and shoved a

rubber plug into the drain. He mixed the water to a comfortable temperature and

straightened.

“I get to see you naked again. Come here.” He took her hand and drew her toward

him. “Let me do it.” He stood behind her and unbuttoned her blouse, pushing it back

from her shoulders. She hadn’t bothered with a bra. He bent his head and kissed the

tender spot under her ear then cupped her right breast with his left hand, holding it as

if weighing it in his palm.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful. You are so lovely.”
Jane shook her head. “I’m very ordinary.” But her heart swelled with pleasure at

the thought he found her beautiful.

“No, your hair is the most perfect shade of honey. I love the way it curls around

your ears.” As he spoke his free hand drifted over her head, down to her neck.

“Your eyes are the best kind of blue. Not too dark, not pale like some. Just like the

summer sky outside the window. Your skin is so soft I could stroke it all day.

“Your ears are set exactly right, your throat is a delight.” She swallowed under his

caress.

“I have no words to describe the perfection of your breasts.” He squeezed each one

gently so that the nipples puckered.

She stood unmoving, her breath caught in her throat, as he unfastened her pants

and drew them down to the floor. She wore a wisp of lace no larger than a thong. It was

already soaked with the moisture seeping from her.

“We’ll get rid of this.” He pulled her panties down, exposing her mound and vulva

to the warm air of the room. He placed his curved palm over the curls at the base of her

belly.

Steam rose from the bathtub, the warm, damp tendrils curling around them like a

magic mist. Pierce reached out with one hand to turn off the faucets.

“Ready when you are.”
Fortunately he kept an arm around her as he guided her to the tub. His wandering

hands and seductive words, and knowing what he would do in a few minutes, had

made her legs grow weak and shaky. She doubted she could have stood on her own.

The warm water lapped at her breasts as she lowered herself into the bath and

leaned against its high back. She closed her eyes and inhaled the steam. A few seconds

later she heard Pierce’s whispered, “Let me in.” She moved forward, the water churned

Jane’s Prize

and he slid in behind her. Wavelets slopped over the side as she shifted to make room

for him.

He settled her on his lap, his legs straight underneath her bottom. His hands found

her breasts again and he nuzzled her neck. She leaned her head back on his solid

shoulder.

“Lift your bottom up,” he whispered. She rose slightly and felt his thighs open

under her just enough so his legs supported her as if she were sitting in an easy chair.

“Feel down between your legs.”
Her fingers found his cock, already large and seeking.
“Put me inside you.”
She was soft and swollen, eager for him. She guided him into her. With a sigh he

thrust farther in until she was attached to him as if by a magnet.

He rubbed his flat palms over her breasts. “I love squashing them. I could play with

them all day. But we need to think about you. Where do you want my hands?”

“Everywhere.”
“Here?” His fingers parted the lips of her vulva and found her clit. She arched.

“God yes.”

“Not here?” His hand moved back to her breast and squeezed her nipple.
“That too.” Her breath came fast and hot now as he worked first her clit then her

nipple, all the while pushing his cock deeper and harder into her.

One final touch on the nub of her clit was what brought her to climax. He held her

tight against him as she bucked and shuddered in his arms. His groans sounded in her

ear as she rode him and milked him with her wild movements until she felt the last

massive thrust, so deep, so hard that she thought she would cleave in two.

They lay supine with his arms around her until the water began to cool. When it

was too cold for comfort Jane stirred and stepped out of the tub. She grabbed the towel

she had brought with her, a tiny inadequate thing. She had never thought she would

need a bath sheet. Pierce rose from the water and came to stand in front of her.

“Give me the towel.”
He took it from her and rubbed her dry around her breasts and her back then down

her legs.

His hands slid down her ribs and he sank to his knees. He pressed his face against

her mound and she gave a tiny, involuntary thrust of her hips as he clasped her thighs.

She felt his tongue thrust between the lips of her pussy and moved her legs wider

apart. His arms went around her hips and he seized the cheeks of her ass in each hand.

He held her prisoner while his tongue and lips ravaged her cunt. She grabbed his hair

in both fists and held him hard against her. Unbelievably, Jane Chartraine, who used

her vibrator once or twice a week and thought she was sexually aware, found herself

carried away in a mindless climax for the fourth time in less than twelve hours.

Margrett Dawson

“I’ve been thinking,” Jane said an hour or so later as they sat on the wide porch,

munching on granola bars and sipping lukewarm Coke. She swallowed the last crumbs

and took a muffin. Another thing she’d learned was that sex gave her a tremendous

appetite.

“What’s that?” Pierce lounged in a cane rocking chair looking strong and handsome

and not the slightest bit weary. A tiny flicker in her abdomen responded to the thought

that he would be ready to make love to her again by nightfall. She dragged her mind

back to the present.

“The reason I’m here is because the owner wants to prove there are no ghosts.”
“Right.”
“Because he thinks the house won’t sell if it’s haunted.”
“Right again.”
“So we prove it’s haunted and he’ll be more inclined to let you have it!” she

finished on a note of triumph.

Pierce smiled. “That has possibilities.”
“Of course it does. When I film tonight, you stand so that I catch just a glimpse of

you, maybe in the big mirror.”

“No more than a flicker. But enough to see the shape of a person.”
“Perfect.”

That afternoon Jane left the history lessons and taught Pierce something of modern

life so he could offer a plausible story as the latest Newland offspring. He was a quick

study and had a wicked sense of humor. Jane found herself laughing until she cried at

the stories he told in his turn of his life on Earth and beyond it.

She wiped her eyes. “I had no idea ghosts could get up to such things.”
“Why not? We’re human after all. Why would we leave our personalities and all

our faults behind?”

Around six o’clock she looked at her watch. “Tell you what,” she said. “Let’s go

pick up a pizza. It will give you a chance to see the town and knowing how to order a

pizza is a life skill that will be useful.”

She drove carefully, trying not to swing around the curves or stop too abruptly but

even so, for the first couple of miles, Pierce hung on to the grab bars for dear life. He

saw her glance at his white knuckles.

“Sorry. I had a car but it traveled not much faster than a galloping horse.”
“I understand. Try to relax. It’s very safe at this speed.”
She drove around the town of Cove Bay and Pierce recognized a few of the old

streets. There were even a couple of stores that he remembered, even if they had

changed name and function.

Jane’s Prize

They picked up the pizza and cold sodas and consumed them back at the house in

the warm dusk. Pierce was enthusiastic about the new taste sensations.

“Tell me some more about your life,” she said as she picked up another slice. “What

did you do, besides taking your cousin to baseball games? Did you have a job?”

“I had a job. I was expected to go into the family business when I left college.”
“And did you?”
“Eventually.”
She waited while he selected another slice of pizza. “But first I wanted to see

something of the world.”

“Where did you go?”
“Europe, of course. I did what they called the Grand Tour in the nineteenth century.

Major capitals, good restaurants, cruise ships.”

“Sounds wonderful.”
He shook his head. “No, I was disappointed. The sites were glorious of course and I

had all the money I needed but I felt there was more. I hooked up with a group of

people who were planning to open schools for boys in the slums in major cities. We

rented buildings, bought books and hired local teachers.”

Jane watched the emotions flicker over his face.
“I even taught for a few months back here in the States, not that I was much of a

teacher.” He wiped his lips on a paper napkin. “After a while I decided I could do more

good by making money and channeling it to the organization. So that’s what I did. I

came home and joined the family business. The difference was I now had a motive for

making lots of dough.”

“Did you make a lot?”
He laughed. “I made a pile and sent half of everything to the schools. That was the

problem.”

“Problem?”
“With my stepmother. She didn’t agree with what I was doing. Said I was wasting

her boy’s inheritance.”

“That’s why she killed you.”
“Yup.” He tossed the soiled napkin into the empty pizza box.
Jane sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, don’t be sorry. If she hadn’t poisoned me I’d have lived on, probably died at

a ripe old age and never met you.”

“True. I wonder what happened to the schools you supported.”
“One day I’ll try to find out.”
Jane resolved to help him when she had internet access but at the moment she

didn’t want to embark on the explanations that would entail. It was nearly ten and she

got out the video camera.

Margrett Dawson

“I thought of something else,” she said. “I’ll rub a little Vaseline on the lens so that

it looks all misty and slightly out of focus. They’ll know there’s something there but not

quite what it is.”

They rehearsed a couple of times and Jane wiped out their first try as too jerky and

posed. By the third or fourth attempt they got it right and Pierce materialized in the

mirror as a very realistic-looking ghost. Could a ghost be realistic?

Jane’s Prize

Chapter Five

Jane reveled in the warmth of Pierce against the length of her back. When they’d

finished filming they had settled into her narrow cot, speaking little, touching gently.

Love that night had been sweet and tender. They had both been tired, nerves strained

by what had happened to them. Their bodies came together as much for comfort as

from lust. After they lay like spoons, one of Pierce’s hands cupping her breast and the

other flat on her stomach. Every so often his muscles gave a tiny twitch as he sank into

sleep and her body responded with a ripple of desire.

She closed her eyes. She had to get some sleep if she was to keep her wits about her

tomorrow when she took Pierce back to her town. But her brain wouldn’t quit.

For a day and a night she’d tried to be blasé about spending time in the house, and

then forced herself to take meeting a ghost in her stride but she had to confess that her

nerves were more than a bit frayed. As for Pierce, she had no idea what mental and

physical strain was involved in coming back to the world after you’d been dead for

decades.

As she lay in Pierce’s arms and listened to his even breathing, she racked her brain

for anything she’d ever read or heard about ghosts. Of course there weren’t too many

examples of one coming back to life and taking his place in the world. Was that because

it never happened? Or because the ones who did it were so clever they slipped into a

new community with barely a ripple? Stephen King had some pretty horrifying stories

about people coming back to life, but when they returned they were evil and terrifying,

not drop-dead gorgeous and hungry for sex.

From what he’d told her and what her mother had said, Pierce had disappeared

eighty or so years ago. His body had rematerialized and there was nothing wrong with

it as far as she could tell. In fact, it was absolutely, smashingly all there. But did that

mean he would continue his life cycle as he should have done all those years ago?

Would he age like any other human? Or would the process accelerate because he was

already ancient? Or would he stay young and virile, frozen in time while she gradually

grew older?

The thought made her draw a deep breath.
“Can’t you sleep?” Pierce’s voice murmured in her ear and his hand on her

abdomen moved to her thigh. A trail of sparks followed along her nerve endings.

She muttered something about being close to dropping off.
“I can put you to sleep.” He kissed her ear and then she felt the tip of his tongue

trace the edge of her lobe. His fingers tightened on her breast and she felt his cock swell

against the cheeks of her bottom.

Margrett Dawson

Immediately a rush of moisture spread between her legs. Pierce murmured in

contentment and pushed two fingers between her thighs, searching for her clit. He

found it and nipped the soft flesh between his fingers then began to stroke gently,

rhythmically. Jane gave herself up to the delicious sensations in breast and pussy.

The pressure of his hand made her arch against him. He held her firm while

continuing to pleasure her.

At last she could take no more. The heat built up in her belly while the relentless

rubbing on her clit sent more flickers of fire deep into her. The wave began low down

and spread up through the lips of her vulva, burning everything in its path until she

cried out and arched again in his iron grip.

“Is that better?” he whispered.
She could only nod, still feeling his cheek against her hair.
“Best sleeping potion there is,” he said.
She was already drifting, her body completely relaxed, her head empty of any

nagging thoughts. She felt him settle against her again and she slept.

Something woke Jane very early the next morning. She and Pierce were still folded

together. He had been with her now for almost two nights and a day. So far so good.

One ray of dawn light penetrated the gloom of the room where the drapes had not

been completely closed. She lay for a while on her side watching it spread a golden

glow over her backpack and their discarded clothes.

Her body ached with a delicious throb between her legs when she moved but her

head was clear as a bell.

A noise outside brought her fully awake. She slipped out of Pierce’s embrace,

dragged her T-shirt over her nakedness and walked to the window to peer out. The sun

was still behind the trees on the far side of the lawn but it promised to be a glorious

day. The patrol car edged past the house once again. They were certainly faithful but

they hadn’t caught the intruder. Of course, strictly speaking, Pierce wasn’t an intruder

since he belonged to the house. She supposed the law firm hadn’t considered that

possibility. She smiled to herself as she stretched her arms over her head and turned

back to the bed. Pierce lay on his side, eyes open, watching her with the same small grin

curving his mouth.

“What is it?” she asked, but she knew the answer. She just wanted to hear him say

it.

“I want to fuck you.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She took the few steps to the side of the cot and

pushed him onto his back. Hitching up her T-shirt, she straddled him, her hands on his

shoulders. “My turn,” she whispered. “Leave it to me.”

His cock was already large and swollen, jutting toward her like a gorgeous missile

seeking a target. She positioned her pussy over it and let her wetness brush over him.

Jane’s Prize

He gasped and seized her hips, trying to pull her down onto him. She pulled back.

“You have to let me do this. Take your hands away.”

“All right.” His mouth twisted in a grimace that looked like pain but he let go of

her.

She rode him, laving him with her juices, pulling away, sliding him into her slowly

then retreating again only to ram him deep inside her. Reveling in the power she

wielded, she refused to let him come, although he begged her and she felt her own

climax building, cresting deep inside.

He groaned and bit his lip, crying out when she let him into her, moaning when she

slid away. It was wonderful.

At last he could bear it no longer. Despite her protests he seized her hips again and

forced her onto his throbbing, pulsing cock. It was steel-hard and hot, wet with their

combined juices. As he rammed into her she could hold back the tempest no longer and

they shuddered, shouted and climaxed together.

The heater had remained on during the night so there was enough hot water for a

bath and for Pierce to shave. Both were a bit subdued as they washed, packed up Jane’s

cot and ate the last of the food. Jane made instant coffee right in the mugs with a kettle

of boiling water.

Pierce watched with interest. “Sorry it’s only instant,” she said. “We can stop off in

town for something better.”

He picked up a mug and sniffed at the steam. “Smells like coffee.” He took a sip.

“Almost tastes like coffee.”

She passed him the sugar bowl. “You’ll find a lot of things are made now to be

quick and easy but we lose a lot of flavor for the convenience. Some people buy

organic.”

She explained what that meant as they finished their scanty breakfast and rinsed

the plates and cups. It was only eight-thirty when Jane took a last look around. The

water heater was shut down, all the windows securely bolted, the garbage scooped into

plastic bags for disposal. Is this where there should be discussion about her taking him

back?

She drew a deep breath. “This is where things start to get interesting,” she said.

“We have to convince the law firm that the house is haunted and then establish your

identity.” She couldn’t help a little clutch of fear in the base of her abdomen. So much

could go wrong. Not only might Pierce find it difficult to become a legal resident of the

present year but she worried about what might happen when he saw all the gorgeous

women out there. He’d been hungry for sex and she’d been right at hand, willing and

more than ready for him. Sexual mores had certainly changed over the last century. A

good-looking wealthy guy would have to fight them off with a baseball bat. Where

would that leave her? Why hadn’t she thought of that? Because she’d been dazzled by

Margrett Dawson

his charm and by his obvious desire. But that desire might fade as soon as he realized

she wasn’t the only one available to him.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Pierce said.
She shot him a quick smile. “Nothing. Just thinking about where we should go

first.” She picked up the last bag of garbage and the pack with the video camera. “Got it

all mapped out,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s go.”

Jane steered the car back toward town. She’d arrived at the house late Tuesday

afternoon and spent two nights filming as she’d been instructed. Motherly Abigail had

told her the offices closed at noon on Friday so she had to return the camera on Friday

morning. The shots were all digital, timed and dated, so they had only the rest of

Thursday to get their story straight.

Jane glanced at Pierce in the passenger seat beside her. His window was down and

the breeze ruffled his hair. He still wore his tweed suit but he’d left off the starched

collar and the tie. She stole a peek at the smooth skin on his throat and her hand gave an

involuntary movement on the wheel as if drawn to touch it. She moistened her lips. His

skin would be like brown silk under her fingers and lower down, his abs would be rock

hard…

A car horn blasted her out of her fantasy and Pierce yelped in alarm. She jerked the

wheel to restore the vehicle to the correct lane and let out a deep breath. A small sports

car scudded past her, driven by an elegant woman who made a rude gesture, obviously

furious that they had almost drifted into her lane. “Sorry about that.”

She felt Pierce’s hand on the nape of her neck. He massaged the tender spot at the

top of her spine and she shivered. “You’re too tense,” he said. “Just relax.”

“On the contrary, I was too relaxed. Not paying attention to the road.”
His eyes were on the cars around them as the traffic thickened. “Extraordinary,” he

murmured. “Would I be able to buy one of these?”

“I don’t see why not, once you have a bank account and can get a license.” The

mention of the everyday necessities brought her back to the stomach-churning problem

of how to pass him off as a contemporary man.

It was almost lunchtime on a warm day and the girls were out in their skimpy

dresses, enjoying the sun. Jane shot Pierce a sideways glance. His eyes wandered

everywhere, never stopping on one person for more than a few seconds.

He shifted in his seat, his hand still warm and comforting on her shoulder. “The

skirts are very short, aren’t they?”

“Right.” She didn’t want to pursue that.
“Some of them are bare at the waist.”
“Belly buttons are fashionable, especially with a ring.”
“You mean, right in the—” He pointed to roughly where his navel would be.
“You got it.”

Jane’s Prize

“Extraordinary,” he said again. Then he looked at her. “You don’t have a ring in

your belly button.”

“No, I’m not into those kinds of fashion. I’ve never even considered it.”
“It might be interesting.”
At that moment she signaled to slide into the lane to make a left turn and braked at

the stop sign. “Where would you like to go first?”

“Somewhere with a bed.” His fingers played under her hair and another frisson

snaked down to her belly.

“I could find you a motel.”
“Us.”
“What?”
“Find us a motel, whatever that is.”
The light turned green and she pretended to concentrate on her driving. Her heart

rate had notched up again. Damn, she was conditioned to respond to every suggestion

he made and she’d only known him for two days. What did that make her?

She made herself focus on the here and now, not what might be once they were in a

motel room. “A motel is a hotel where you can drive right up to the door of your

room.”

“Clever.”
She drove a few more blocks and turned in where a flashing sign announced

“Vacancy”.

“Stay here. I’ll check you in.”
The teenager behind the counter at reception wasn’t the slightest bit interested in

her or her companion. Jane gave a credit card, collected a room key and returned to the

car. “I’ll show you the room and then we should get you some new clothes.”

She had asked for a quiet room and the one they were given was shielded by a

stand of trees from the parking lot and from the pool. She could hear some children

shouting and splashing but couldn’t see anyone.

Pierce took her bag from the trunk. She placed a hand on his arm. “I won’t be

needing that.”

Replacing it, he slammed the trunk closed then followed her in silence into the

room. He gave the fittings a cursory glance, nodding when she pointed out the

bathroom and explained how the shower worked.

“The water will be hot all the time.”
Nodding again, he removed his jacket and threw it on the queen-sized bed. The

drapes were closed, making the standard room dim and intimate.

She put the key on the dresser and stood awkwardly, unnerved by his silence. “Is

anything wrong?”

He flashed a grin. “Not as long as you’re here.”

Margrett Dawson

He began to unbutton his shirt and pulled it from the waistband of his thick pants.
“What are you doing?”
“You said I needed new clothes so I might as well be rid of the old ones.”
“That’s not what I—”
Before she could finish he shucked his pants, slid his arms from the sleeves of his

shirt and took a step toward her.

He took her in his arms and she lost all the scanty willpower that remained to her.

She took a moment to savor the feel of his naked chest against her, the sensation of her

breasts pressed hard to him, the brush of dark hair under her cheek. His hand caught

her chin and lifted her face to his. His lips came down on hers, his tongue thrusting

boldly into her mouth.

The kiss was a force that rocked her where she stood, wiping out all good

intentions, all the mental tasks she had listed. She was intensely aware of where he

touched her and of where she longed for him to touch her. Every inch of her ached to be

stroked by him, yearned to lie close to him in that wide, soft bed that called to her just

two paces away.

He lifted her against him and his heat burned through her thin shirt and the denim

of her jeans, seducing, overwhelming. The strength of his erection pushed against the

mound of her pussy, begging her to strip naked.

She gave a low murmur deep in her throat. Her hands seemed to move instinctively

with no conscious control from her brain. She took hold of the hem of her shirt and

pulled it up. He released her long enough to let her tug it over her head and then his

hands were on the fastener of her jeans.

In rapid movements he stripped her completely and shed the last of his clothing.

Without the warmth of his body clamped to hers, she was left cold and aching for a few

brief moments, moisture pooling between her thighs. She would do anything to feel

him press against her again, have him relieve the pressure that was building low in her

abdomen.

He offered his hand in a strangely Old World gesture and drew her toward the bed.

With her hand in his, she lay upon the bed and in a heartbeat he was over her,

straddling her, creating a shock wave of desire as his cock skimmed her molten flesh.

She reached up, lost in wonder at the feel of his skin, breathing in his scent, feeling

the power in his shoulder muscles.

“I want you,” she said simply, honestly, meeting his gaze and spread her legs,

inviting him. She had never wanted anything more.

“You have me.” He leaned over her, his eyes still on hers, moving gentle fingers

from her rib cage upward to her arms, tracing their length, pulling them above her head

as his mouth found hers again.

Her fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him tighter against her and she writhed

beneath him.

Jane’s Prize

His lips slowly left hers and he burrowed his face against her belly and teased her

navel with his tongue.

She loved the feel of his mouth on her belly. Maybe a ring would be new and

exciting, she thought. But before she could think any more about what she might do

later, the pressure of his lips, his tongue, his mouth grew almost more than she could

bear. Then she felt his hands between her thighs. A gentle touch that made her quiver.

A sure touch that made her let out a cry as she shot into a world of sensations that was

pure agony. She bucked beneath him as the climax rocketed through her, gripping her

with an intensity she had never imagined.

She clung to him, convulsed beneath him. As climax ripped through her yet again

she trembled, helpless, barely aware of anything around her except the hardness of him

inside her, the weight of his body over hers.

Margrett Dawson

Chapter Six

Pierce ran his hand lightly over the length of her arm. She lay as tightly curled

against him as she’d been in the narrow cot back at the old house. But this was from

choice not necessity. Her hair teased the nakedness of his chest, her subtle perfume

weaving in and around his senses.

So much of what she said and did seemed strange to him. During the daylight she

was the teacher, he the pupil. But in bed she was silk in his arms, sweet-smelling and

velvety smooth. In bed she was the learner.

He had known many women back in his real lifetime and some had been

voluptuous, sensual and demanding. But none had shown that heady mix of carnal lust

and sweet vulnerability that he found in Jane.

She stirred against him and he touched the top of her head with his lips. She

murmured in contentment and he felt an ache of desire deep inside and a new emotion

he had not felt before and which he did not recognize.

New feelings, new sights, new sounds in this world of Jane’s. He supposed he

could have been brought back by anyone who might have happened to touch him, not

that many people ever saw a ghost, nor if they did were they inclined to touch one,

even by accident. But he had been touched by sweet, hesitant Plain Jane. He frowned.

How had she come to call herself by that name? She was anything but plain. And when

the light of desire was in her eyes, the flush of love upon her cheeks, she was the most

beautiful creature he had ever seen…

His eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness and he picked out the furniture

which was made of something that looked like wood but was shiny and hard to the

touch. He was used to the warmth of oak or pine under his fingertips. Jane had said

something about plastic…

He had a lot to learn and to get used to in this bewildering new world where she

had brought him. He’d traveled a bit and knew enough to wait until he’d figured things

out to size up a situation. That would be his strategy now.

He stretched his legs. God, it felt good to be flesh and blood again. And as for the

everlasting reenactment of the murder scene… He thought he knew how an actor must

feel on the hundredth night of the same play, the same words, the same actions…

Jane had saved him from that and plunged him into a new adventure. It didn’t look

as if there would be any choice in whether or not he stayed, even if he wanted to leave,

so he would learn as fast as he could. With Jane’s help.

Jane’s Prize

Jane’s fingers were still trembling, the nerves weak and lax in the lingering

aftermath of the volcanic eruption that had invaded her whole being. After their

shower, she managed to fasten her buttons and zip up her pants in a way that she

hoped looked nonchalant and normal.

Their first stop was at the bank where she drew out some cash. Leaving the car in

the parking lot, they walked to a men’s clothing store. No one in the town, especially in

summer, would dream of wearing a suit. Already a couple of people had cast a puzzled

look at Pierce’s tweeds and white shirt. She had to buy him some casual pants,

lightweight shirts and more suitable shoes.

Inside the store that carried mainly outdoor clothing, she stopped by the racks of

colored shirts. Pierce ran his hand along the hangers.

“Will they fit?” he asked doubtfully.
“I don’t see why not. Let me see, I think you’d take a large.” She ran her eye over

his frame, trying not to think of what was hidden beneath the clothes, and pulled out a

blue and gray checked shirt. She held it against him.

“Can I help you?”
Jane turned to the young man behind her. “Just wondering about sizes,”
“I know my measurements.” Pierce rattled off a string of numbers, including inside

leg.

The assistant nodded and searched the racks.
“I’ve never bought anything ready-made before,” Pierce whispered in her ear.
Before she could say anything more, the young man turned with a couple of pairs

of pants over his arm. “Just bring your shirts along and I’ll find you a cubicle to try

them on.” He turned and they followed meekly.

Fifteen minutes later Pierce emerged from the store wearing jeans with the blue and

gray shirt Jane had picked out. His suit, two pairs of chinos and shirts were carefully

folded in the bag that swung at his side.

Outside on the pavement, she let out her breath. Pierce blended in perfectly with

the summer shoppers. She began to think that maybe there was a chance he could pass

muster as a modern man.

Back at the car she turned the key in the ignition. “Now for the big test,” she said as

she waited for an SUV full of kids to inch past her back bumper.

“Sounds ominous. What is it?”
“Mother.”
“Ah! I seem to remember dealing with the mamas of a few young ladies.”
“Do you, indeed?”
“The likeness of a she-bear protecting her cub comes to mind.”

Margrett Dawson

Jane laughed. “I don’t think you’ll find my mother that intimidating, but she will

give you the third degree.”

Pierce raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like the she-bears I’ve known.”
While she’d been waiting for Pierce to try on his new clothes Jane had reviewed in

her mind all the reasons why she shouldn’t take him to meet her mother. Then all the

reasons why she should.

If she was to see a lot of Pierce, as she hoped, he would have to meet her mother

sooner or later. Jane was not really of the “jump into the cold water and get it over

with” school of thought. Yet here she was on her way back to her mother’s house with a

film that showed the old mansion was haunted and the ghost himself sitting large and

warm and definitely human right next to her. Oh boy!

“So tell me something about her.”
Jane drew in a deep breath. “Hard to know where to begin. It isn’t that my mother

is difficult. It’s just that I made the mistake of moving back home after college and she

thinks I’ll stay forever.” She braked for a cyclist barreling through the intersection.

Idiot!

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued. “I love my mom and we get along okay. It’s

just that every so often I feel she might wash my face with the corner of her

handkerchief and straighten the bow in my hair just as she used to do when I was six.”

She turned into the street where she lived. “It’s the third house down.” She pulled

to the curb and stopped. “I really have no complaints. Except that I’m never alone. If I

have a date and announce it, it becomes a big deal and I get the cross-examination

afterward. If I keep it secret I felt guilty and mean-spirited.”

She turned to Pierce. So here she was with a hunk who looked like Orlando Bloom

on a good day and who, if he opened his mouth, was likely to put his foot in it and give

away the whole enchilada.

“You want me to keep quiet?” he asked.
“Yes. No! Just let me do most of the talking. Forgive me.” She touched his arm. “But

until we’ve worked out our story it’s best not to say too much. We’ll go in to let her

know I’m okay then I’ll make an excuse to get away.

“Back to the motel?” He nuzzled her neck.
“Yes.”
“I can stand any number of mamas with that promise in front of me.”

Jane saw the curtains twitch. Her mother had already seen the car and pulled back

one of the lace drapes to wave enthusiastically. She disappeared. Any moment now the

yellow front door would open. Sure enough, before Jane could wind up the windows

Elaine came barreling down the two concrete steps and trotted to the car.

“Darling,” she called out from halfway down the path lined with late-blooming

petunias. “Darling, thank heaven you’re safe. I was so worried.”

Jane’s Prize

By now Jane had eased herself out of the car and stood with her back to the

passenger door, shielding Pierce as much as she could.

“Are you all right?” Elaine took hold of her shoulders and peered anxiously into

Jane’s face. There were lines around her mouth and her eyes were red. Had she been

crying?

“Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Elaine smoothed back some hair from her daughter’s face. “There was a fire in New

Jersey at a campground. I was worried about you.”

“But I wasn’t anywhere near New Jersey, Mom. I was just a few miles away in

Maine.”

“I know, I know but it made me realize how dangerous it was for you to camp out

anywhere all alone.”

It was on the tip of Jane’s tongue to say she wasn’t alone but she bit back the

answer. Her mother had a vivid imagination and could turn any innocent scenario into

a major disaster. But she’d worried because she cared. Try to dwell on the positive.

Jane patted her shoulder. “I was quite safe but it’s nice to be home.” Liar, liar pants

on fire!

As she moved her arms, she revealed her passenger.
“Oh!” Elaine turned to look more closely. “You have a friend with you.”
Here goes nothing! Jane took a deep breath. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Pierce. We

ran into each other.” Well, that was true, since she’d done a touch football tackle on him and

his dead stepmother. She stepped away from the car and opened the door. “Pierce, this is

my mother, Elaine Chartraine.”

Pierce flowed from the car and sprang to his feet. He gave a half bow and took her

hand. “Mrs. Chartraine,” he said, gazing into her eyes, still holding her hand. “I am

amazed at the likeness between you and Jane. I know now where she gets her looks.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best line for getting into someone’s good graces, it sounded a

bit trite and callow although Jane didn’t mind the inference that he thought she looked

good. But it just showed what she knew. Her mother actually blushed and simpered.

Yes, she simpered, there was no other word for it.

“I’m happy to meet you, Pierce. Would you like to come in for a glass of iced tea?”
“That sounds wonderful.” Pierce offered his arm and she actually took it. He led

her back to the house, turning his head while still on the path to give Jane a wink and a

sly smile.

Pierce, eh? Well it would do for now. Her mother would certainly wonder where a

Newland came from after all these years.

She popped the trunk and grabbed her pack. There wasn’t much left in the way of

food and drink since Pierce had shown such a healthy appetite. Small wonder. He’d

used up lots of energy. At the reminder of their activities she smiled as she closed the

trunk.

Margrett Dawson

She heard their voices in the kitchen as she came in the front door.
“I trained as an accountant,” she heard Pierce say. “But I’ve mostly worked for my

family, managing the property and the investments.”

“Oh my that does sound interesting! How do you come to know my daughter? You

can’t be from around here or I would certainly have met you already.”

Jane dropped her bag and prepared to step into the conversation. Pierce was likely

to blow everything out of the water.

But as she reached the kitchen door Pierce went on in that friendly yet respectful

voice that seemed to be enchanting her mother. “Of course we would have met. I am

only sorry that I never had the opportunity to know you. I have missed a treat.” Jane

remembered what he’d said about dealing with mamas. Talk about catching more flies

with honey than with vinegar!

“I have thought so much about someone like Jane and when I met her she was

everything I’d imagined.”

Elaine didn’t seem to realize that he hadn’t really answered her question.
“I guess you met at college. Jane never mentioned you. It sounds as if you knew

each other pretty well.”

“We are very firm friends and l—”
Jane’s heart lurched. Not lovers! Please, God, let him not say “lovers”.
“Like so many of the same things.” Yeah right. The only thing they’d shared so far

was wild sex. Jane pushed open the kitchen door.

“Ah, Jane,” Pierce said as if she were the guest and he the host. “Come and sit with

us.”

Elaine poured some tea from the glass jug and Jane perched on a stool at the

breakfast bar.

As she sipped her tea she watched Pierce operate his charm on her mother. She was

putty in his hands, just as Jane had been for the last two nights.

Their conversation faded to a murmur as she thought back. Pierce had said that

whoever touches a ghost and brings it back to life becomes responsible for it. She had

swallowed the story at the time but then she got to thinking about it. There were

questions she still had to ask when she had him alone.

A couple of hours later she drove Pierce back to his motel. He settled back in the

passenger seat and gave a big sigh. “Great cake!”

“You should know.” He’d taken three pieces of Elaine’s pound cake, cementing

himself even more into her good books.

Jane signaled the left turn at the intersection. “Pierce,” she began.
“Yes, my love?” He put his hand on her knee and her head did the emptying trick

like pulling a plug from the bathtub drain.

Jane’s Prize

She forced herself to concentrate. “I have a question.”
“If it’s what I think the answer is yes. Yes I want you to stay with me. Yes I think

you’re wonderful. Yes I’m having a great time in my new life.”

“Be serious.” She frowned. The mention of the new life had brought her back to

solid earth. “You said that when someone touches a ghost, the ghost comes back, or

whatever you want to call it, and then starts to live again.”

“That’s right.”
“How do you know that?”
“It doesn’t happen often.” His hand slid up her thigh. “But I’ve heard about it.

Ghosts can get together to talk sometimes, you know.”

She frowned again. Next he’d be telling her that there was a “ghost line” for

communication.

“Really? Supposing the ghost is a murderer like your stepmother? Could someone

bring her back?”

“I guess so but I’m not sure. She’s a condemned spirit and I’m a victim. Most ghosts

are poor helpless creatures, doomed to walk around the place where they died

because…”

“Because?” She stopped for a red light and glanced at him. His face was serious for

once.

“There can be lots of reasons. They might not believe they’re dead so they have to

realize they can move on. Or they need to warn someone. Or the event in which they

died was so sudden and fraught with emotion they are trapped together with others.

That’s the saddest.”

“That was your situation?”
“Right.” He nodded. “Imagine all eternity reliving the same murder.”
She shivered despite the warmth of the day. The light changed and someone hooted

behind her. She drove on.

“So your stepmother is alone now?”
“I guess so.”
“Could someone release her by touching her?”
“Theoretically it might be possible but I think she’s gone now she no longer has a

victim.”

“Let’s hope she has. Otherwise she might want to try again.”

She pulled into the motel and found a slot near his room. The back of his hand

rested gently on her lap and she felt the heat pulsing from it. He exerted no pressure,

just sat there, letting the mute question do his asking.

Margrett Dawson

She held on to the steering wheel and took a deep breath. “Before I left I promised

my friend Annice that I’d have coffee with her today after work at Full o’ Beans in

town. She’ll be waiting for me.”

“I’ll come with you.”
“No, it’s best not. I’m not ready for her to meet you yet. She won’t be as easy to fool

as my mother. She’ll ask lots more questions and we have to have some reasonable

answers worked out before she does.” She twined her fingers into his on her lap. “I’ll

come back in an hour or so.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Jane’s Prize

Chapter Seven

“You mean you actually saw a ghost?” Annice’s voice matched the “pull the other

one” expression on her face. She was the legal assistant to one of the foremost lawyers

in town and wore a tailored suit, albeit with a very short skirt, that showed off her great

legs. She pushed her leather satchel on an empty chair.

“I think so.” Jane hoped that the footage on the video recorder was good enough to

convince the law firm there was something there and poor enough to prevent anyone

identifying the person in the image. “There was definitely something on the video.”

“This I have to see.”
Jane shook her head. “It belongs to the firm. I have to give it to them first.” Besides,

she had to check it out herself before anyone else saw it.

“So tell me what happened. You set up camp, right?”
Jane gave an outline of her time at the Newland mansion, omitting the part about

Pierce and his stepmother, about taking a flying leap toward Pierce. She also left out all

the details about making love with a resurrected ghost. Without all the dramatic and

spooky bits it was a pretty boring account.

“So what was it? On the video? Were you scared out of your wits?”
“I only saw a faint shape, just a flicker of movement. I couldn’t tell what it might be.

No I wasn’t scared.” Sitting in a bright, busy coffee shop she began to wonder if her

adventure had really happened.

“Were there noises, things thrown around?”
“That’s poltergeists.”
“Whatever.” Annice took another sip of her iced chai latte. “Take me out there.”
“What?”
“You still have the keys, don’t you?”
Jane had foolishly confided that she wouldn’t return the camera and the keys until

Friday morning. She nodded.

“If you can’t show me the film at least you can take me where it’s supposed to have

happened.”

“What’s the point? You don’t believe me.”
“Darn right I don’t believe you. I know how fanciful you can get. You were

hallucinating, being all alone and everything. The only way to convince you there’s

nothing there is to go back again. Who knows,” she said with a sly smile as she licked

some foam from her stir stick, “you might convince me if the ghost decides to appear.”

She made a woo-woo gesture in the air with the stick.

Margrett Dawson

“Annice—” Jane paused. There was no way she could tell her what really

happened.

“If you won’t take me I’ll go on my own. There has to be a way to break in.” She

looked at Jane, seeming to sense that she was winning. “We’ll go tonight.”

Jane opened her mouth to protest then shrugged. “There’s something else.”
“What? Extraterrestrials?”
“I met someone while I was away.”
Even Annice was shocked into momentary silence. She made a “more, more”

gesture with one hand.

“He happened to come by the mansion while I was there.”
“He? Happened?”
“Well, he wanted to see the old house. We got to talking.” She felt the heat rise in

her face. “I gave him a ride back into town.” She prayed that Annice wouldn’t ask how

he had got to the house in the first place. “I’m meeting him later.”

“Well, you certainly had an interesting couple of days. Ghosts and hunks.” She shot

Jane a glance. “I’m assuming he is a hunk.”

Jane nodded. “You could say that.” She caught a movement by the door of the

coffee shop and stared, transfixed. Annice turned to look at what had caught her

attention. Pierce shouldered his way through the customers and stood by the counter,

scanning the tables.

Annice turned back to Jane. “My oh my,” she said. “Is that him?”
Jane could only nod wordlessly as Pierce caught her eye and began to stride toward

their table. As he drew closer, she had ample time to congratulate herself on the choice

of clothes. His jeans hugged his slim hips. His shirt clung to wide shoulders and

tapered nicely to his waist and the wide leather belt. He moved easily and purposefully,

a triumphant grin on his lips.

“That,” Annice whispered, “is a hunk.”

A half-hour later, Annice pushed her empty cup away and stood. “So it’s settled.

We’ll go out just before it gets dark.”

Jane nodded weakly. She’d argued with her friend but Annice had grown more

pigheaded the more she heard why she shouldn’t go.

Pierce got to his feet. “We’ll pick you up at nine,” he said. “It’s a beautiful house.

You’ll like it.”

“Just a quick visit to prove there’s no such thing as a ghost.”
Pierce nodded, his face serious. “You’re right.”
Annice swung her purse strap onto her shoulder. “You guys,” she said. “If your

video’s any good, you could sell it as another Blair Witch Project. See you later.”

Jane watched her leave. Pierce remained standing.

Jane’s Prize

“I thought you were going to wait for me,” she said.
“I was bored and decided to try to find my own way around. I did it!”
“You sure did.”
“Now can we go back to the motel?” he asked, running one fingertip along her bare

arm.

Jane pushed back her chair, trying to ignore the ripple of fire that snaked along her

arm and right to her core. “We shouldn’t be going back to the house.”

“Hey, she would have argued all day if we’d let her. I’ve got other things in mind

for my time. Let’s go.” He took her hand and led her out to the street.

Jane unlocked the car. She should pinch herself to make sure she was awake and

not dreaming this fantasy. But the man beside her was solid flesh, warm and very much

alive. He wanted to take her back to the motel and the bed that waited there because he

wanted to make love to her again. And she was following willingly, even eagerly.

Pierce opened the door of the motel room, his blood already pounding in his head

and behind the solid zipper of these newfangled pants she had found for him. He

seized her in his arms, hearing her little gasp, half pleasure, half surprise. Holding her

tight against him he kicked the door closed, narrowing his eyes in the dimness. The

extraordinary places he’d seen in the few hours since he’d been alive again were

making his head spin. There was so much to take in. He’d told her he was here for good

and that’s what he believed. But he couldn’t help wondering if it all could be snatched

away from him in the blink of an eye. He’d told the truth when he’d said there were not

many ghosts who were touched strongly enough that they came back to the world.

A transient ghost had once told him that there had to be a bond between the rescuer

and the phantom but he was hard pressed to see what bond existed between him and

Jane before she’d barreled into him. Maybe it was something to do with a future link.

That idea appealed.

For sure there was a bond now. True, he’d spent four decades without feeling a

woman in his arms and he’d been hungry with a raw, biting hunger. That first time

they’d come together had been pure carnal instinct and natural humanity but now it

was more.

He felt the length of her body against him and kissed the top of her head. He loved

the way she fit so neatly under his chin. He loved the way the curve of her body pressed

against his hardness. “This is where you belong,” he whispered. “Close to me.”

She set her hands on his shoulders. Little darts of electricity seemed to tease his

muscles. A deep ache clamped on his groin.

He felt her shiver. His hands smoothed her back, feeling the structure of her body,

the firmness of her spine, the swell of her hips. It was unbelievable. He’d known her

such a short time. He breathed in her scent and savored her softness, her warmth

against him. He was starting to think this should last forever.

Margrett Dawson

He might love the feel of her, of her skin, her face, her breasts, her lips, but he also

savored the sound of her voice as it caught in her throat. He treasured the glint of

excitement in her eyes that seemed to set a spark to his male ego, provoking a pulsing,

desperate arousal that must be satisfied.

The insatiable drumming in his groin threatened to take over his brain. A mist

floated over his eyes and he could see nothing clearly, could only feel. His mouth found

hers and he tasted the sweetness, sensed the fragility of her bones. All he wanted was to

lie over her, to feel her yield as she had done before, letting him into her, taking him

deep inside her, making murmurs of desire and contentment.

He pulled her shirt up and let his fingertips flutter against the muscles of her back.
She pulled her mouth from his. “I want you,” she whispered, meeting his eyes,

echoing his own thoughts, making his heart leap.

He stepped back and ripped at his shirt. “I think you said that once before. And my

answer’s the same—not half as much as I want you.”

Suddenly they were both moving, shedding clothing until they were naked. He

stretched out his arms for her but she did not move into them. She stood, feet slightly

apart, letting him gaze his fill at her breasts, her waist, the flare of her hips, the soft curls

concealing her mound. With one fingertip, he traced the line of a blue vein in her breast

to where it met her nipple. The brown bud puckered and stood out. He smiled. “Nice,”

he whispered.

She shuddered but still did not move.
He dropped to his knees and ran his hands up her legs. He felt the slight tremor in

her muscles and his cock hardened even more. He seized her wrists and held her firm

as he pleasured her with his mouth and tongue. The world faded. Every thought was

gone, save for the silky warmth of her skin under his fingertips. He touched the tip of

his tongue to the sensitive spot between her legs and she quivered again and moaned.

The insides of her thighs were moist with her juice. He sucked the nub of her clit

between his lips and held her a prisoner of his mouth and hands. She arched her spine

and threw back her head, widening her stance to give him more access to her dark, soft

places.

He released her hands and grasped the mounds of her buttocks, still sucking on her

clit. He felt her hands on his head, her fingers in his hair, pulling him even tighter

against her.

This woman filled him with wild, wanton ideas of what he would like to do to her

and at the same time made him think of gentleness, loving-kindness and sweetness.

She uttered another sound deep in her throat and he tasted another rush of creamy

liquid. He dug his fingers into the crease between her cheeks and at the same time

released the tender flesh of her clit from his mouth. She groaned again and he blew

delicately onto her heat, following it with a featherlike caress with his tongue. As if he

had touched a match to a tinderbox, she exploded, the orgasm pushing her vulva

against his mouth again, making her legs shake and her whole frame tremble. He held

Jane’s Prize

her on her feet while the storm swept over her until she sagged over him, spent and

weak.

He stood and swept her into his arms and turned toward the bed. She clung to him,

her face pressed to his chest, one arm draped over his shoulder.

In the small room, it was a bare two strides to the bed. He fell with her onto the

tangled sheets, already scented with their lovemaking.

She snaked the fingers of one hand between his legs, cupping his balls, moving

gently, kneading him while she stroked him just enough to bring him to the edge. This

time her eyes stayed on him as she inflicted exquisite torture, watching the fleeting

expressions on his face as his desire grew and his penis swelled. At last she lay back

and spread her legs for him in silent invitation. He felt her damp softness against his

hot flesh and slid into her warm sheath with a deep sigh of pleasure. He was big

enough to fill her completely and he felt her muscles tighten to hold him. Jane seized his

hair with two hands and snaked her legs around his hips, driving him yet deeper into

her. The tip of his cock pressed against the wall of her womb and he erupted into fire.

Jane had drifted off into a light doze. She came to with her mouth dry as the desert

sand. She needed water. Pierce appeared to be asleep. Not surprising considering all the

extra energy he’d been using for the past couple of days. Quietly she slid out of his arms

and took a glass from the tiny bathroom. Propping her behind against the dresser as she

sipped the tepid liquid, she looked at the man in her bed. Well not exactly her bed but

close enough.

He’d passed a couple of tests already. Annice was drop-dead gorgeous and he’d not

even given her a second glance. One temptation down, two thousand more to go. And

he’d made a great impression on her mother.

But there was still the plan to return to the mansion. What if Pierce had got it wrong

and his stepmother had remained there, haunting away and looking for some

unsuspecting mortal to bring her back? She was a murderer, even if she’d gotten away

with it for a while. That prompted another question—for how long? When did she die?

Mental note to look up the death certificate.

One more thing to add to the list.
Jane finished the glass of water and began to look for her discarded garments. She

retrieved her bra and panties from under the tangle of bedclothes but her jeans and

shirt were scattered near the door. Her clothes bundled in her arms, she slipped into the

bathroom again for a quick shower. Her movements must have roused Pierce because

when she emerged he was wide awake, his head propped on one hand.

He sat up in the bed, a picture of warm golden skin, smooth muscles and tousled

hair. Jane couldn’t believe that such a body had been hers, all hers, and she stared,

transfixed by the hard beauty of him.

“What is it?”
She felt herself blush and dipped her head to towel her hair. “You look good.”

Margrett Dawson

Her head was covered and her voice muffled but she heard the bed creak as he

moved. Even with the damp towel over her face she knew when he came close. The

heat from his body vibrated around her. He drew the towel from her hair and threw it

on the floor.

“What did you say?” The corner of his mouth ticked up in a tiny grin. “Tell me.”
“I said you look good.”
“Good enough to eat?”
“You could say that.” God, that treacherous pulse between her legs was beating its

insistent rhythm again.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He plonked a kiss on her mouth. “I’ll take a shower first.”
Oh boy! She looked at her watch. It was already six. They should grab something to

eat. Even if she couldn’t swallow a thing, Pierce was certain to be hungry again. Then

they would meet Annice and get this next challenge over with. Sometime soon they had

to look at the video and get their story straight for the law firm. Not to mention finding

a way to let Jane’s mother know her daughter might be spending nights away from

home. Jane bit her lip as she stepped into her pants.

Pierce came out of the shower in a waft of steam and pine-scented soap.
“Boy, that is wonderful. All that hot water at the turn of a switch.” He looked at her.

“What’s up?”

She’d never known anyone who was so sensitive to her unspoken feelings. She

sighed. “Nothing really. I was just thinking about my mom.”

“What about her?” Pierce dried his back and began to dress. He knew she had

something on her mind and he’d dropped the bantering, sexy talk of just a few minutes

before.

She dragged a comb through her hair. “I live at home,” she began.
“Right.” He pulled on his shirt.
She sat on the one chair so thoughtfully provided. “I told you it’s a cheap and easy

way to pay off my student loans.”

“That’s why you wanted the money.”
“Right.” She hesitated. “Look, can we find something to eat and we can talk about

it?”

“Fine by me.”

They slipped into the benches on opposite sides of a booth in a busy diner. Jane

ordered iced tea and a muffin. Pierce took chicken fried steak and a baked potato.

Once the ordering was out of the way Pierce took her hand across the table. “So tell

me what’s on your mind.”

“I’ll try to make it short.” She gave his fingers an answering squeeze. “I took my

teaching qualifications and then a Master’s in Fine Arts including some courses in Art

Jane’s Prize

Therapy. I love working with kids through their drawings and paintings and I’m

establishing a nice working relationship with a couple of educational psychologists.

Maybe one day I’ll build up to having enough referrals to work at it full time.” She

sipped her iced water. “So I want to save money and the fee from the lawyers will help

there but I also know my mom is lonely. While I was away at college she rattled around

in the big house where my brother and I grew up. My dad died five years ago.”

She looked up at Pierce. His face was serious. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. It’s a good arrangement for both of us for now, although it can’t go on

forever. She should move. We both should move. She worries about me when I go out.”

Jane sighed. “It’s like being seventeen again.”

Pierce fixed her with his dark gaze. “Are you building up to tell me you don’t want

to spend a night with me?”

“God no. I want to spend a night, lots of nights with you, more than anything I’ve

ever wanted. But I’m not sure how to…”

“Why not just tell her?”
“That’s what I should do. I was planning on moving out soon to my own

apartment.”

The waitress came with the food and Pierce gave her the benefit of one of his smiles.

The woman almost melted into a puddle on the spot and drifted away, a dazed look on

her face.

He picked up his knife and fork. “There you go, then.”
“I suppose.” Jane sighed again. Pierce didn’t know her mother.

They met Annice as they had arranged in a shopping mall on the edge of town. The

place was deserted and Annice’s car sat under a lamp standard in the exact center of the

lot. The automatic lighting had come on but struggled against the dying glow from the

sun. As Jane drew up alongside, Annice sprang out of her shiny Mustang and clicked

the remote to lock the doors.

In ten seconds she was in the back of Jane’s car and they zoomed out of the parking

lot.

“So,” Annice leaned her forearms on the back of the front seat, “any ideas about

what to do?” Her voice rang with suppressed excitement.

“You’ve certainly changed your thinking,” Jane said. “You were telling me how

crazy I was to spend time there and now you can’t wait to get out there.”

“Well, that was then, this is now. Besides I’m not alone, am I?”
Jane shot a sideways glance at Pierce. He was very quiet. She saw a small pleat of a

frown between his brows. Was he worried about his stepmother?

“We’ll stick together,” she said firmly. “No going off alone.”
“Heavens no. But what do I do if I see this ghost of yours?”

Margrett Dawson

“I don’t think you’ll see anything.” Pierce spoke in a low voice.
“You’re darn right I won’t. There are no such things as ghosts, as I’ve told my

friend Jane here dozens of times.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Pierce placed his hand over Jane’s on the steering wheel

and gave it a tiny squeeze.

Jane’s Prize

Chapter Eight

By the time they reached the house, dusk had fallen and the bulk of the mansion

loomed as a darker mass against the pearly sky. Jane fished the key from her

pocketbook and passed it to Pierce.

Without a word he strode up the stone steps and tried the lock. Jane’s heart

pounded in her throat. She strained her ears for any sound but heard only the rustle of

leaves as some creature stirred on a branch.

“This place sure is spooky.” Annice’s voice was pitched low and ended with a

slight tremor.

“Nothing to be afraid of.” Jane took her friend’s hand and tucked it under her arm.

“No one here but us chickens.” She fervently hoped that was true.

The massive front door swung open and she saw Pierce silhouetted in the opening.

He took one step and disappeared.

She couldn’t suppress a gasp and hesitated on her way up the steps.
A half minute later Pierce reappeared in a pool of light. “I’ve switched on the

power.”

“Thank heaven for that.”
“We’ll have to keep the lights off while we go through the house but at least we can

flick them on if we need to.”

At the top of the steps, Annice pulled her hand from Jane’s arm and squared her

shoulders. She looked up at the carved stone façade. “This is one beautiful house even if

it does scare the crap out of everyone. Who did you say owns it now?”

“Some descendant of the Newland family. A second cousin or something. He’s very

old and has no heirs so he wants to sell.” Jane was acutely conscious of Pierce’s silence

as she recounted his family history. “I think he’s given up hope of the real heir, or his

descendants, ever coming back.”

“So let’s go for it.” Annice took Jane’s hand. “Take her other hand, Pierce. I’ve got a

flashlight. Let’s go. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!” she recited as they moved together

into the front hall.

They passed swiftly through each room, the beam of Annice’s flashlight sweeping

the shrouded furniture as they went. Soon enough they approached the drawing room

and Jane felt Pierce’s grasp tighten on her fingers. She paused. “This is where

something happened.”

“You mean when you were filming? What was it?”
“Just a flicker. A shape. Hard to tell what it was.”

Margrett Dawson

“Well I’d like to see it for myself.” Annice started forward again, pulling Jane and

Pierce with her.

Their footsteps seemed very loud on the bare wooden floor. They marched to the

center of the room and stood beneath one of the chandeliers. The huge family portrait

hung behind them over the fireplace. Jane suddenly felt dizzy and caught her breath. In

all the mental turmoil, she’d forgotten about the likeness of Pierce in full view. Why

hadn’t she thought of Annice recognizing Pierce from the painting, even if his clothes

were different? How stupid could anyone be?

She pulled Annice toward the French windows, praying that she wouldn’t turn

around and examine the picture. “This is where the murder is supposed to have taken

place.”

“In front of the window?”
“So they say.”
Annice stood for a moment, listening. “I don’t hear anything. Don’t see anything,

do you?”

“Not a thing.” Jane suppressed a smile of relief. Pierce had been right. His

stepmother had gone.

“Ouch!” Annice let go of Jane’s hand and brushed her hand on the nape of her neck.

The beam of the flashlight careened wildly around, picking out ornaments, drapes,

pictures in a kaleidoscope of fleeting impressions.

“What is it?”
“I thought something touched my neck.” Annice shuddered. “Probably a spider. I

think I’ve seen enough. Let’s move on.”

Jane let out a breath. “Fine.” She tried to pierce the gloom of the room as they

walked toward the far door. Had the murderess tried to touch Annice so she could

come back to the living? Or had it really been a stray cobweb? She felt Pierce tug on her

hand and she slowed as they reached the door. He turned away from her and stood

square to gaze around the room as if daring the ghost to reveal herself. Nothing stirred.

Ten minutes later Pierce turned the key in the lock of the front door and they went

down the steps to the car.

“Well that was a blast.” Annice opened the rear passenger door. “Do you think that

really was a cobweb?”

“Pretty sure. Aren’t you?”
Annice slid into the back seat. “Positive. You see how easy it is to believe all kinds

of nonsense when it’s dark and you’ve heard a few stories. I don’t know what you’ve

got on your camera,” she said, slamming the door and clicking on her seatbelt, “but it’s

not a ghost.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”
Jane put on her own belt and turned the key in the ignition. The engine coughed

and sputtered.

Jane’s Prize

Annice groaned. “Don’t tell me this rust bucket is going to keep us here. I’m in

serious need of some strong coffee and a washroom. Not in that order.”

“I can do it,” Jane said through gritted teeth. “It just needs some care.”
“Care! I should say so. It’s been on life support for the last six months. No wonder

Pierce won’t drive it.”

Pierce turned in surprise from the front passenger seat. “No, I—”
To Jane’s relief the engine fired and she stamped on the gas. The car lurched down

the gravel drive, spewing small stones from under the wheels until she braked at the

big entrance gates.

With barely a glance at the deserted road she swung in the direction of home. She

blew a strand of hair away from her face and wiped her palm on the leg of her pants.

The rapid beat of her heart began to slow as she steered toward town. Why was she so

stressed out? Did she need to ask? Resurrecting a ghost might be common TV fare but it

wasn’t your ordinary everyday occurrence. Add to that the mind-blowing sex, lack of

sleep, worry about Pierce and you had more than enough reason.

A bright light appeared in the rear window. “Uh oh,” Annice said from the back

seat.

The whoop-whoop of a police siren confirmed the worst. Jane pressed the brake

and steered to the roadside, easing to a stop, switching off the engine. This was all she

needed.

The police car pulled in ahead of her but the officer didn’t emerge.
“He’s checking the plates,” Annice whispered. “Hope you don’t have any tickets

you haven’t paid.”

Jane shook her head. “Not one.”
“How would he know?” Pierce asked.
“Computer link. Everything’s connected.” Don’t ask any more questions! Don’t give

yourself away.

At that moment the door of the cruiser opened and a police officer in uniform

emerged. He stood for a moment in the beam of the headlights and put on his hat.

“It’s Pete. Pete Burrard,” Annice said in an excited voice. She poked Jane in the arm.

“You know him. He was captain of the football team in high school. I dated him for a

while.”

Memory came back. Giggling sleepovers, hanging around the coffee shop, gossip

about boys, heartbreak and ecstasy. The joys of teenage years.

Pete was well over six feet, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped. “My, he’s matured well.

Like a fine wine,” Annice said. “With my luck, he’s married with six kids.”

“Good evening, ladies, sir.” Pete ducked his head to look in the car. “Let me see

driver’s license and registration please.”

Margrett Dawson

Jane switched on the dim overhead light, fumbled for her wallet and took out her

license. Pete shone his flashlight on the card and glanced in the back. As his hands

moved into the beam of the courtesy light Jane saw he had no ring.

Annice obviously noticed the same thing. “Hi, Pete. Would you like mine too?” She

waved her ID through the open window.

He looked at her in surprise. “Annice Sinclair. Well I’ll be darned.”
“How you doing? I didn’t know you were back here.”
Pete ignored her card. “Just been here a couple of months.”
“So what’s new in your life? Apart from being a policeman, I mean.”
Annice had edged closer to the open window, her chin skimming Jane’s shoulder.

“So are you married?”

“Not anymore. Divorced a year ago.” He leaned his arm on the roof of the car.

“You?”

Jane shifted in her seat and stole a glance at Pierce. He raised his eyebrows,

shrugged and turned his attention back to Annice and Pete. Jane supposed she had to

contain her impatience and let the little scene play out.

Annice stuck her left hand through the window and waggled her fingers. “No one

special in my life,” she said.

The radio on Pete’s belt crackled and brought him back to the job at hand.
“So, what were you doing back there at the big house?” He bent lower and looked

at Pierce. “You have your ID on you, sir?”

“I’m sorry—” Jane began.
“This is a friend from out of state,” Annice interrupted. “He’s a bit jet lagged and all

his luggage is back in town. We didn’t think to tell him to bring ID with him. We were

just cruising around, showing him the area.” She flashed the cop a winning smile.

Pete shook his head. “Always a good idea to carry ID on you, sir.”
Pierce leaned forward. “You’re right and I apologize. But I was kind of worked up

about seeing the old house. My special interest is late nineteenth century buildings,

officer. I’m an amateur architect and the young ladies were kind enough to offer to

show me the mansion. I would really like to see inside some time.”

He told the lie with a completely straight face.
“I’ll vouch for him, Pete,” Annice said. “It was all completely innocent. Sorry if we

raised any concerns.”

Pete straightened. “No problem if you don’t have ID if you’re not doing anything

illegal. We’ve been asked to keep an extra eye on the old house. We received some

reports of prowlers, lights at night. Then you come screeching out of the driveway.”

“Well you know about the ghost stories.”

Jane’s Prize

“Yeah, when I was a kid our scout troop camped up here in the woods. We scared

ourselves sh—silly with ghost stories.” Pete laughed. “Well I guess you three aren’t

ghosts or burglars.”

“Absolutely not.”
Pete took a step back and touched his cap. “Goodnight then. Drive carefully. Good

to see you again, Annie. Might catch you later.”

“Sure thing, if you don’t call me Annie.”
Mercifully the engine started and Jane put the car in gear. “Good night, Pete.

Thanks.”

Though what she was thanking him for she would have been hard-pressed to say.

Thanks for giving me a scare and shortening my life by a few years? Thanks for being

an unattached male easily distracted by my friend’s pretty face?

They drove in silence for a mile or so then Annice’s voice came from the back. “Are

you going to tell me what’s going down here?”

“What do you mean?”
Annice sat forward again and spoke over Jane’s shoulder as if Pierce weren’t there.

“Who is he, Jane? What’s the story?”

“Pierce and I met a couple of days ago—”
Annice turned her head toward Pierce. “Where are you from?”
He cleared his throat. “Originally from around here.”
“I don’t buy this. You’re both up to something. Ghosts, haunted houses, no ID,

mysterious background.”

Jane took a deep breath and a big decision. “I’ll tell you but not tonight.

Tomorrow.”

“So there is something. I was right.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Jane had no idea if she was making the right choice but a little

voice told her she was going to need support from someone who knew her way around.

Annice was a legal secretary. She had contact with all kinds of people.

“You’re sure? You’re not shitting me?”
Jane saw Pierce flinch at the word. Welcome to the world of modern young women.
“I promise. I might need your help anyway.”
“It’s a deal.”
They had reached the dark parking lot where Annice had left her car and Jane

pulled in beside the low-slung Mustang.

Annice opened the door and wriggled out. She stood on the tarmac and leaned in

Jane’s window just as Pete had done. “Where?”

“Where what?”
“Where shall we meet? Full o’ Beans?”

Margrett Dawson

“Right. At nine.”
“You got it.” She wagged a finger at Pierce. “I don’t know what you’re up to mister

but if anything happens to her I’ll come for you.” She straightened and took her car

keys from her pocket.

“Don’t be silly. Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Jane put her car in gear once

again.

“Better not. ‘Night.”
Annice clicked the remote on her key and the lights of her car came on with a gentle

beep.

Pierce stirred. “How—”
“Don’t ask. All will become clear.” She was even catching Pierce’s speech patterns.

With a last cheerful wave to Annice she pulled out in the direction of Pierce’s motel.

Outside the door to his room, she sat with both hands on the wheel. The door was

bright green with a long scratch under the handle.

“Do you have your key?”
Pierce nodded. “Will you come in?” He placed one hand on her shoulder and

kneaded the tight muscles near her neck.

She had been asking herself the same question for the last ten minutes and hadn’t

gotten an answer. His hand on her was warm and firm, doing wonderful things to her

aching back. Her whole body was tight as a drum. She needed a massage all over, not

just her neck. The temptation to say yes was almost overwhelming.

She opened her mouth. “No, not tonight,” she heard herself say. Her subconscious

had taken over and she knew it was the right decision.

She turned to face him, the gearshift forming a barrier between them. His hand slid

down to her arm.

“I would like to come in with you. I can’t tell you how much I want it. But I’m not

going to do it.”

“But—”
She placed one finger on his mouth. “That policeman was a lesson. You can’t be

here without a past, without documents to prove it, and a birth certificate from over a

hundred years ago won’t cut it. I need to think about it. I need to let my mom know I’m

okay, prepare her about moving out and a thousand other things.” She kissed his cheek.

“You were right about telling her. If I survive I’ll be back tomorrow morning, nice and

early.”

He took hold of her face and kissed her on the lips, long and hard. She felt her

resolve melting like snow in April. With the last remnants of her good sense, she pulled

away.

“Sleep well.”

Jane’s Prize

“Did you have a nice evening, dear?” Her mother was settled in the big armchair

watching the late news but she clicked the remote to mute the sound and looked up

with a bright smile.

“Yes, thank you.”
“I’ll make some coffee.” She pushed on the arms of her chair to rise but Jane

stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“I have to talk to you, Mom.”
“What about, dear? You’re not sick, are you? You’re looking a bit pale.”
“No, I’m not sick, just tired.”
She sank onto the ottoman next to the armchair while on the TV a building blew up

in absolute silence and people ran for cover. She pulled her gaze away and took her

mother’s hand.

“You know I’ve appreciated you letting me live here,” she began. “And you know

I’ve been saving for an apartment of my own.”

Her mother nodded.
“Well, I think I have enough put by and I’m going to start looking for a place.”
“My dear, that’s wonderful news.”
Jane stared at her. “It is?”
“Of course. It’s time you were on your own, without worrying about me, and time I

had some freedom too.”

“Really?” It had never occurred to Jane that she could be a nuisance to her mother.

She’d only thought about her mother’s presence cramping her own style.

“Why yes. I’d like to take a vacation on one of those singles cruises, you know. And

sometimes I’d just like not to have to cook or think about whether or not you’ll be

home.”

“But you always say you worry about me.” Jane thought of the evidence of tears

when she’d come back from the Newland house.

“I know, and I’ve been thinking about that. When you were away at college I used

to think about you but I didn’t worry. It’s because you’re around all the time that I let

my imagination go wild.” She smiled. “Not enough to think about. Or at least not the

right kind of thing.”

“I see,” Jane said weakly. She had to get this right. “So you’re not going to mind if I

move out fairly soon?” She flashed on the image of Pierce in the bed, with the sheet

barely covering his stupendous package and his muscles rippling as he moved.

“Not one bit. I saw a great offer on a trip to Mexico in the fall. I think I’d like to try

it.”

“I see,” she said again. “That’s great, Mom. I think you should do that.”
“You do look tired, dear. Why don’t you pop off to bed and I’ll finish watching the

news. Dr. Ruth’s on next. She’s talking about sex over fifty.”

Margrett Dawson

“Really?” It was true. Her mother wasn’t yet sixty. Jane had never thought of her as

a sexual being. It made her feel a bit strange.

She heaved herself to her feet. Maybe tomorrow it wouldn’t feel so odd.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight, dear.”
Jane trudged up the stairs to the renewed sound of the TV. “That was easy,” she

muttered. In fact everything had been easy. The wicked stepmother hadn’t appeared to

kill off Pierce. The police officer hadn’t insisted on ID. Her mom would quite like to

have her house and her life back. Now all Jane had to do was to enlist Annice’s help to

get Pierce some ID.

Piece of cake.

Jane’s Prize

Chapter Nine

Much to her surprise Jane slept reasonably well. In fact she rolled into bed after

giving her teeth a quick scrub and deciding she had no energy to shower, then slept like

the dead.

She woke at first light, disoriented for a moment. She stretched out a hand for

Pierce and remembered her refusal to sleep with him. She would have liked to wake

with him by her side, solid and warm, ready to make love again. Only three days and

he already belonged in her bed. She reminded herself there was supposed to be more to

life than sex but she wasn’t convinced.

But maybe abstinence was a good thing. She ran her hands down her sides and felt

the quiver in response. Her body was refreshed by the hours of rest and she was

already looking forward to breaking her sexual fast.

She stretched full length and wondered what Pierce was doing. Probably thinking

about breakfast. The motel offered free coffee and bagels in the morning so he’d keep

body and soul together.

Full of energy, she sprang from the bed and headed for the shower.
A half hour later, clean and scented with body lotion and shampoo, she headed

downstairs to the aroma of coffee.

As she poured herself a cup she heard the shower in her mother’s bathroom. The

phone rang. The sound of the water stopped immediately and before she could reach

the handset on the wall her mother had picked up.

She shrugged and sipped her coffee. Probably one of the gardening clique or the

book club.

Her mother came into the kitchen a few minutes later, a flush on her cheeks. Just for

something to say, Jane asked who had been calling so early.

Her mother’s color deepened and she busied herself with the coffee pot. “A friend.”
“Anyone I know?”
“No, we met quite recently.”
Jane turned with interest and saw the blush and the coy look. “Mom! It’s a guy!”
“A gentleman, yes.”
“Are you dating him?”
“Not exactly. We thought we might take a trip out to the beach and have lunch.”
“That’s a date!” She flung an arm ‘round her mother. “I’m pleased for you, Mom. Is

he good-looking?”

“Of course. He’s tall.”

Margrett Dawson

“Tall is good.”
“He dresses very well.”
“Even better.”
“His name is James.” Not Jim, James.
“I see.”
“I like him.”
Jane kissed her mother’s cheek. “Sounds great, I’d like to meet him.” She glanced at

the wall clock. “Gotta go. Tell me all about it later.”

Annice was already in the coffee shop, stirring a foaming cappuccino. Jane ordered

a latte and sat down.

“Let’s get right to it,” Annice began. “Pierce looks exactly like the guy in the big

portrait in the house. What gives?”

“You saw it,” Jane said weakly.
“Of course I saw it. It’s only about ten feet tall. I knew you led me away from it. Put

that all together with all the other stuff and I smell a rat. I have to be at work in half an

hour so tell me all about it.”

Jane cleared her throat and played with a packet of sugar. “When I was out at the

Newland house. Something really did happen. I saw Pierce…”

“Did he break in?”
“No, he was already there.”
“Already there? You mean he was living there?”
“Not exactly.”
Annice frowned. “So he just came calling, like a siding salesman?”
Jane closed her eyes. “You’re not going to believe this—”
She gave a summary of what had happened during her stay at the mansion. When

she’d finished she opened her eyes and took a mouthful of coffee.

“You’re right, I don’t believe it. It’s not possible.”
“I know. But there’s no other explanation.”
“And you’re telling me you just went to bed with him? Just like that? Wham, bam

thank you ma’am?”

“It wasn’t exactly—”
“How do you know he’s not some pervert who’ll chop you into small pieces and

leave you in a super strength garbage bag?”

“I know. If he’d wanted to hurt me he’s had lots of opportunity.” But Annice was

right. When she thought of how vulnerable she’d been… She raised her chin in a

gesture of defiance. “Besides, just think about it. I saw the whole scene with his

stepmother. If that was some enactment where did she go, taking the furniture and

Jane’s Prize

everything with her? How come Pierce doesn’t know anything about anything invented

since the Depression?”

“Has it occurred to you he could be pretending?”
“Why? What’s the point?”
“That I don’t know.” Annice twirled her coffee spoon, lost in thought. “Okay, I’m

not saying I do believe it but for the sake of argument let’s suppose it’s true. Pierce was

a ghost and you brought him back to life. What next?”

“I have to find a way to get him some identity. If he’s related to the Newlands he

could go see his last remaining relative, establish his claim.”

“Hmm. To do that he’d need good documentation. A computer geek might be able

to do it.”

“Do you know any?”
Annice nodded. “It wouldn’t be cheap.”
Jane looked at her friend, a sudden ray of hope blooming. “Are you saying you

would help?”

“Well, I have come into contact with a few people who skirt the law. The cops do it

all the time, giving people new identities. It’s possible.” She pushed her cup to one side.

“But I have to know he’s for real. I have to be sure he’s not some psycho just escaped

from maximum security.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” Jane felt an ache in her chest and placed a hand over

the spot. “My heart tells me he’s telling the truth.”

“My heart is intact and my head tells me to be careful. I’ll check things out. See if

there are any police notices out for escapees. Let’s meet for lunch.” She stood and put

her hand on Jane’s shoulder. “Hang in there, kiddo. If he’s legit I’ll help you, although I

probably need my own head examined.” She looked across the coffee shop. “Speak of

the devil.”

Pierce waved from the counter and made his way toward them.
Conflicting thoughts churned in Jane’s head as she watched him approach. Relief at

the possibility of getting Pierce the documentation he needed, concern at how much it

might cost. Would she have nothing left for her new apartment? Add to that her natural

fear of involvement with people on the fringe of the law. She was a teacher. She had to

guard her reputation. A raft of concerns flashed through her mind in the few moments

he took to arrive at her side and take her hand. Immediately all her doubts disappeared

and the familiar glow of joy lit up in her heart.

“Jane,” he said, and the sound of his voice sent a tremor deep in her insides. She

could only hope that she didn’t look as goofy as she felt.

He put out a hand to Annice. “How are you this morning?”
Annice barely touched his fingers. “I’m fine, thanks. Just leaving.” She swung her

purse onto her shoulder, turned to go then hesitated. She looked at them both, shook

her head, obviously decided not to say anything and left.

Margrett Dawson

“Have you had breakfast?” Jane asked.
“No.”
“I should have told you where they serve coffee and pastries at the motel…”
“I found that.” Pierce took Annice’s vacant chair and picked up the menu. “That

was an early morning snack, not breakfast.”

“I see.”
He scanned the listing. “Bacon, eggs, sausage, toast. That sounds more like it.”
The waitress came to take the order and Jane asked for a bran muffin, no butter, and

a large pot of coffee. Her junk food indulgence was over.

When the waitress left, Pierce pulled a small notebook and pen from his back

pocket and wrote something.

“What’s that?”
He looked up from under dark brows and Jane’s heart lurched. God but he could

turn her on with just his eyes and at any time of the day. “Just the cost of the breakfast.”

“What do you mean?”
He leaned over the table and took her hand. His fingers stroked her palm and the

tingle between her legs spread further. “When I get the house and if I inherit the family

fortune, I shall pay you back every penny for the clothes, the motel…”

Such an idea had never entered her head. Besides, he might be counting chickens

before the hen had even laid the eggs. “That’s a nice thought but you don’t have to do

that. Have you ever considered,” she paused, wondering how to put it tactfully, “that

there may not be as much money as there was when you…left?”

He let go of her hand to let the waitress put his huge plate of food before him. “This

looks wonderful.” He eyed Jane’s solitary muffin. “You don’t enjoy eating?”

“Yes I do but I’m not a breakfast person.”
He laughed. “What a strange expression. Breakfast person.” He shook his head,

poured ketchup and tackled the mound of hash browns. “You were saying?”

“Maybe the family hasn’t done as well in the past decades. There have been two

world wars, many smaller ones, all kinds of political upheaval.”

“Not to worry.” He speared a slice of crisp bacon. She had to admit it looked

delicious. “My family always had an eye on the main chance. They’ll have found a way

to make a buck and to hang on to it, never fear.” He followed the direction of her gaze

and picked up another piece of bacon on his fork. He held out the delicacy. “Eat.”

She let him feed her and felt warm moisture spread. He didn’t even have to touch

her and she was ready to fall at his feet, let him lead her where he wanted.

He finished his plate and mopped the egg with a piece of bread. “I nearly forgot.

Did you talk to your mother?”

Jane brought herself back from thoughts of what they might do later. “I did. And

she’s fine with me moving out.” She told him about the man her mother had met and

Jane’s Prize

her plans for vacation. “So that’s one problem solved.” She picked up the bill. “Shall we

go?”

He drank some coffee. “There’s a bigger problem.”
“I know, the ID—”
“No.” He shook his head and put down his cup. “More than that.” He leaned

forward and lowered his voice. “I have such a hard-on just looking at you I don’t think I

can get up from the table.”

My God, no one had ever said such a thing to her before. She felt the hot blood rise

in her face.

He closed his eyes. “I just have to remember something awful that happened to me

and stop thinking about what I’d like to do to you right here on this table.”

She glanced around but no one seemed to have heard what he said. But she had

heard it and it set her heart to pounding even harder. A pulse began to throb in her

pussy. Her lace panties were already wet and her breasts ached.

He leaned away from the table and closed his eyes. “I’ll think about my

stepmother.”

That reminded her. “When did she die? Do you know?”
He opened his eyes. “About five years after she got rid of me.”
“So what did you do after you died and before she…” Jane hesitated, what did one

say? “Joined you?”

He frowned. “I don’t really know. It didn’t seem like five years in earth terms,

rather like being in a deep sleep. A coma.”

He smiled at her. “Well that worked. I can come out from behind the table.”
She wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed that he was no longer ready to ravish

her amongst the breakfast debris or relieved that he wouldn’t be embarrassed as they

walked out.

He shepherded her in front of him, one hand warm on the small of her back. He

might have recovered from his surge of lust but she certainly hadn’t.

She fumbled in her purse for money to pay the bill as they left. Outside they stood

for a moment on the pavement. The sun was warm on her face. Pierce bent to nibble her

earlobe.

“Where are you going to take me?’ he whispered.
She wanted to say “back to the motel” but she made a big effort to be focused. “I

have to go to the lawyers’ office to return the camera.” And collect the rest of her check.

“We have to talk about our story. Don’t forget we have a ghost on the film.”

She felt him shrug. “That will be easy. They believe it or they don’t.” That was true.
He kissed her neck and she felt the tip of his tongue touch her overheated skin.

“Where have you always wanted to make love but never done it?”

Margrett Dawson

She swallowed and took her courage in both hands. “Doesn’t everyone fantasize

about a public place?”

He sighed. “A woman after my own heart. Lead on.”
She retrieved the camera from the back of the car. “I think I’d better go in alone.”
“They won’t recognize me from the picture. I’m just a fuzzy shape.”
“I know but you distract me.” She kissed his cheek, just on the edge of his mouth.

She wanted to move her lips further, press harder, but she resisted. “I’ll do it better on

my own.”

“If you say so. I’ll wander ‘round town and try not to think about what we’ll do

later. On second thought, I will think about what we’ll do later.”

Jane made her escape before he could put any more lustful ideas into her head.

“Oh my goodness.” Abigail, the motherly secretary, stared wide-eyed at the TV

screen where she had hooked up the camera. “Oh my goodness me, will you look at

that. What on earth is it?”

Jane pretended to peer more closely at the image. “Do you think it’s a ghost? “
“Did you see anything while you were there, dear? Were you scared?”
“Well I was a bit nervous at first but I felt perfectly safe. But it does look as if there’s

something there.” She couldn’t confess she’d met the ghosts.

She and Pierce had done a good job. The Vaseline on the lens and the dark shadows

made it difficult to distinguish who or what was moving around. The figure looked

human enough but it was impossible to make out any features or details of clothing.

“Oh dear, oh dear.” Abigail sounded really distressed.
“Does it make a big difference?” Jane asked.
“It means the owner will have to think again about selling. At least lower the price.

They don’t need the money, except it’s all tied up in the property and lying idle.” That

was good news, anyway.

“Did you say something about an heir?”
“Yes, old Mr. Newland always maintained that Pierce, the one who disappeared

years ago, might come back, or one of his descendants would.”

“And that person would inherit.”
“Indeed they would. Mr. Newland has no children so the fortune and the property

would go to Pierce’s sons or grandsons.”

How about Pierce himself?
“And no one has any idea where this Pierce person might be?”
Abigail shook her head. “If you ask me he’s dead long since, but try telling Mr.

Newland that. He’s almost ninety but still very active with a mind of his own, let me tell

you.” The video had come to an end and she switched off the machine. “Well thank

you, dear. You did what we asked. I’ll get your check.”

Jane’s Prize

She got to her feet and opened a filing cabinet. Extracting a file folder, she took out

an envelope. “Here you are. The remaining four thousand dollars.”

Jane took it from her. “Thank you. Do you know where Mr. Newland lives?
“Oh yes. But he doesn’t receive many visitors. He’s a bit of a recluse.”
“Maybe I’ll contact him anyway just in case he has any questions about the house.

Can you give me directions?”

“If you want. Please sign on the bottom of the page.” She pushed a pen and a

document toward Jane, who scribbled her name to indicate she had received the

promised amount of money.

With the remaining Newland’s address in her purse, Jane swung by the bank to

deposit the check. Pierce was waiting for her by the car and she paused for a moment to

look at him. She had parked right outside a real estate office and he was scanning the

pictures in the window, hands in his pockets. The jeans and T-shirt he wore were totally

unremarkable but he wore them with such an air that Jane noticed several girls steal a

second glance at him as they passed by. With his dark hair falling over one eye he had

the look of his namesake Brosnan. It was easy to imagine him playing the daredevil

secret agent.

Jane moved forward and went to stand beside him before he saw her. He greeted

her with a wide smile and an arm around her shoulders. “How did it go?”

“Okay I think. You were great as a ghost.”
“I was a ghost.”
“I mean on the film.” She stroked his arm. It was warm and solid and very real. “I

think they bought it and will advise your cousin. I have his address.”

“Perfect. I’ll go see him after I’ve done one thing.”
“Can I guess what that might be?”
“I should say do a few things, and I bet you can guess one.” He squeezed her

shoulder and pointed to one of the notices in the window. “There’s a nice-looking

apartment.”

Jane focused on the picture, which showed an attractive building surrounded by

trees. “One bedroom and a den. It’s a rental.” That wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. She

could use her savings for furniture.

“Shall we take a look at it?” he said.
“When?”
“Right now.”
Suddenly the idea of moving in with him became very real. This was serious stuff.

“I don’t know—we have lots of time to look around…”

Margrett Dawson

Before she could protest further he opened the door and ushered her into the office.

Within ten minutes, a young man—“call me Bob”—had made a phone call, pocketed

the key to the apartment and was leading them to his car.

The building was only a few blocks away, centrally located on a quiet street.
They listened to the spiel about taxes, heating systems and goodness knows what

else. It all went over Jane’s head because all she could think of were Pierce’s warm hard

body pressed close to her and the words he’d whispered in her ear as they followed the

agent onto the street. “We need a place to fuck before I explode.”

The apartment was on the second floor, well carpeted but devoid of furniture. “The

previous tenant had to move at short notice,” Bob told them. “But everything is in good

order.”

Pierce nodded. “I understand. We’ll take a look around.”
“Sure thing. Take your time. I’ll wait for you on the balcony.”
As soon as Bob disappeared through the French doors Pierce seized her hand and

pulled her in the direction of the bedroom. A large walk-in closet occupied most of the

wall opposite the windows, making an oversized entrance through to the bathroom.

Pierce opened the louvered doors and thrust her inside, pulling the doors closed behind

them. Two clothing rails ran along each side of the open space. The connecting door to

the bathroom was closed.

“We’ve got about ten minutes,” he said breathlessly and unbuckled his belt. “I like

it when you wear a skirt. Much easier to reach you quickly.”

Jane kicked off her shoes, flipped her skirt to her waist and pulled her damp panties

down while she watched him lower his jeans and briefs. His cock was large and

pulsing, a pearly drop shimmering on the end. The sunlight from the bedroom came

though the louvers in honeyed bands where dust motes danced.

“The realtor—”she gasped.
“Might come in. That’s the point, isn’t it? Pull up your shirt so I can see your

breasts.” She did as he said and at the same time unhooked her bra. Her breath was

coming hard and fast.

“Grab the bar.”
She had thought of the floor, flat and hard, carpeted though it was, but it seemed

Pierce had other ideas. She reached up and seized the closet rail, sending a couple of old

wire coat hangers spinning to the floor. Pierce put his arms under her backside and took

her weight. Her breasts were on a level with his mouth and her pussy skimmed his

crotch. She wound her legs around his waist. He buried his face against her hot skin,

took her nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. She cried out and moved instinctively,

jiggling her hips until she felt the head of his cock push against her opening. She was so

wet that he slid inside her easily, the size of him stretching her so she gasped aloud

again.

Jane’s Prize

He lifted his head and licked her breast around the areola with the tip of his tongue.

“I want you to hang on.”

She was incapable of speech and could only nod, not knowing if he could even see

her.

She felt his fingers grasp the cheeks of her ass, settling in the crack so she was held

tight against him. “Have you got the bar?”

She managed to grunt an answer.
“Because I’m going to come so hard I’ll send you through the wall if you don’t hold

it for all you’re worth.”

Jane supposed she must have done as he said, although all she could think of was

the movement of his hips, the pressure of his cock inside her, the utter uselessness of

trying to do anything but suck him deeper and deeper in.

She felt him shudder and pause for a brief second. The electric warmth and the

wave built inside her, sweeping everything to the one central spot exactly where his

body met hers.

She convulsed and exploded at the same moment as he and felt the warm gush of

his semen as she came apart.

The clothing bar gave way, sending them both crashing to the carpet.

Margrett Dawson

Chapter Ten

Jane landed on her back, his weight sprawled across her naked legs. After the first

few seconds of shock she was overcome by a desire to laugh. It was so slapstick

comedy. She stuffed a loose bit of his T-shirt into her mouth to muffle her giggles. But

that meant he was attached to her and couldn’t get up. She replaced the scrap of shirt

with her hand and Pierce rolled off and bent to pull up his pants.

“Is everything okay?” The voice of the realtor floated through the small apartment.

The crash must have been clearly audible out on the balcony. Jane scrambled to her feet,

suddenly stone cold sober, pulled down her skirt and tugged her shirt back into place.

Pierce buckled his pants and shoved her into the bathroom with her underwear.

“Close the door,” he hissed.
The bathroom was a fair size with a tub and shower. She closed the door and

stepped into her panties. She could hear Pierce talking to the realtor.

“Just checking the fittings,” she heard him say. “She has so many clothes that we’ve

had the problem of broken rails before.”

Bob murmured something.
“No problem in fixing it,” Pierce said. “We’ll take the apartment.”
Jane’s jaw dropped. He was a take-charge guy, but didn’t this go a little too far? She

flushed the toilet to give a reason for lurking in the bathroom then checked herself in

the mirror. Hair a little mussed, so she smoothed it with her hands and a splash of

water. Cheeks flushed. Nothing she could do about any of that. She took a deep breath

and emerged.

Pierce and Bob were standing in the bedroom looking at a sheet of legal-sized

paper. Pierce’s eyes were bright and his color high but he was perfectly calm and

rational.

“There you are, sweetheart,” he said. “Do you want to take a look at this contract?”
“I think I do, since it will be my name on it.”
Bob looked a little embarrassed at her tone.
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s fine but—”
Pierce took her hand. “You know you were saying we had to find somewhere fast

because of our commitments.” He squeezed her fingers. “We do urgently require a

place of our own.”

She supposed they did if making love was going to be on the schedule several times

a day.

Jane’s Prize

She cleared her throat and took the contract. They could take the apartment on a

monthly basis. Even if Pierce inherited the mansion it would take months for the legal

work to be completed and make all the renovations that would be needed. He was

right. This apartment was close to her school in the town. They would also be private

and undisturbed. It would give them time to look for something else if the inheritance

didn’t pan out. And it was within her budget.

She turned to Bob. “Do you have a pen?”

Bob drove them back to the office. Jane gave him the security deposit and the first

month’s rent check and retrieved her car.

“Okay.” She’d lost count of the tasks on Pierce’s list. “You said a ‘few’ things on

your list. What else?”

“I’d like to go to the cemetery and check out the monuments.”
She’d never thought of that. Of course the dates and names would be there. She

unlocked the car door.

“My family had a mausoleum. They should all be there. Or at least the memorial

plaques.”

Jane had never been fond of cemeteries, especially since her father died, but she

could see how it might help Pierce in what he needed to find out.

“No problem. Do you want to go right now?”
He slid into the passenger seat. “I think so.”

The cemetery was old and some tombstones were overgrown. It was obvious some

families had died out, leaving no one to tend the plots. Pierce strode to a far corner

where two large stone structures lay half hidden beneath the overhanging trees. The

one on the right was closed by iron gates, fastened with a rusty padlock. He picked up a

stone.

“Make sure there’s no one around,” he said.
Jane checked back along the path they’d taken and the surrounding bushes. “All

clear.”

He gave the padlock a sharp blow then another. Flakes of rust fluttered to the grass.

“One more should do it.”

In the end it wasn’t the lock which broke but the hasp which shattered. Pierce drew

it from its setting. It needed their combined strength to lift the gates from where they

had sunk into the ground and pull them open.

Once inside the small patch of grass they found another obstacle. The doors to the

mausoleum were closed with a bolt that had rusted firmly into the sockets. Set into the

wall to the right of the doors there seemed to be a slab of a different color. Jane rubbed

off some moss and dirt, revealing two names.

Margrett Dawson

“Look at this.”
Pierce stopped jiggling the bolt. “Good work.” He joined her in cleaning off the

stone and more letters emerged. “There’s the list of us all, back to my grandfather at

least.” He slapped his pockets. “Do you have paper and a pencil?”

“In the car.” She ran back to retrieve the spiral notebook that she used to jot down

her notes about school or shopping.

When she returned, Pierce had uncovered the rest of the inscriptions on the stone.

Pierce traced each letter with his index finger and read out the names. Jane listed

them in her notebook. George Arthur, William Peter, Stanislaus…

“Stanislaus?” She stopped writing and looked up.
“My little half-brother. My stepmother was a Polish widow.”
“Interesting.”
Eventually they had them all noted. There was a Pierce Andrew in there and a

Pierce Lonsdale but not her own Pierce. Because he had disappeared.

“So Pierce seems to have been a family name.”
“Right. I could keep my name. Look.” He took the notepad from her. “I was born in

1898 and died 1928 so if I had really disappeared I could have had children around

1930. A son could reasonably have had another son—my grandson—in the late

seventies. That would be me.”

“Okay. We can try that but—”
“Here’s my stepmother. See, she only lasted five years after me.” Pierce brushed his

fingers lightly over the name.

Jane’s cell phone rang, a jarring note in the quiet of the cemetery, making her jump.

It was Annice. “Where are you? Weren’t we supposed to meet for lunch?”

Startled, Jane glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. Where

can I find you?”

“Never mind. I have to get back for a meeting in fifteen minutes.”
“Annice, I’m really sorry.”
“Forget about it. I can guess what you were up to.”
Jane’s face grew hot. “I found an apartment and right now we’re collecting family

names from the cemetery.”

“A likely story but good for you if it’s true. Look, do you remember Henry Galston

from high school?”

“A geeky kid with pimples and thick glasses?”
“You got it. Well I ran into him the other day and he’s changed.”
“In what way?”
“He’s turned into a bit of a stud actually, and he has the hots for me.”

Jane’s Prize

Jane didn’t know what to say. What had this got to do with her?
“He works for some high-end computer security outfit and can get you a false ID.”
“What? How? Why would he do that?”
“I called him and made a date. He says it’s a piece of cake to create a false identity

as long as he has a picture of the subject. As to why? One, he likes doing it. Says he likes

the thrill. Two, he wants to get in my pants.”

“And will you?”
“Let him in my pants? Of course I will. He’s gorgeous and I’d do it even if he didn’t

make the ID. But he doesn’t need to know that. So come back into town and get your

man’s picture taken.”

Your man. What a ring to those two words!

Over the next few days they worked out their story and kept it simple. With the

money from the law firm, they quickly bought some basic furniture and moved into the

vacant apartment. They had a bed, a table and two chairs. Plus a TV so Jane could show

Pierce movies and keep up with the news.

Their next door neighbor was an elderly widow, Mrs. Watkins, but they didn’t meet

any other residents of the block.

In the scenario they devised Pierce would be the grandson of the man who had

disappeared from the family estate in Maine. He would claim to know little of his

putative grandfather. Pierce and his invented father, named Stanislaus after the little

boy who had died in the influenza epidemic, had supposedly lived many years in

California.

Pierce looked at the fictitious family tree Jane drew. “It’s true I was fond of little

Stan,” he said. “I wish he’d lived.”

“Maybe he would now,” she said. “The flu is still dangerous for some but he

probably could have survived if he’d been born fifty years later.”

He nodded. “So I know enough about when I disappeared and enough from what

you’ve told me of events in the twentieth century. I can fake the California stories.”

“Maybe. I still think you need more coaching.”
He grabbed her and waltzed around the empty living room. “Oh coach me,” he

said. “I love it when you coach me. Be the strict teacher and coach me to death.”

“Okay. You learn this list of dates and I’ll give you a kiss for every one you

memorize.”

“I’ve got a better idea. Make it a kiss and a piece of clothing.”
“Only if you take something off if you get it wrong. Fair’s fair.”
“No problem. When we’re both naked we go right to bed. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
He peered at another sheet of paper she’d put aside. “What’s this?”

Margrett Dawson

“A comprehensive test I’m working on. Politicians, political events…”
He lifted her hair and kissed her neck. “That’s worth a lot more. If I get a perfect

score we go immediately to bed.”

Jane sighed and agreed. How could she refuse something she wanted so much? She

could predict they’d be spending a lot of time half naked or between the sheets.

“I want to leave time to watch some old TV programs so you can see the changes

that have occurred.”

She met Annice for coffee a few days later.
“Where’s the ghost?”
“Hush.” Jane looked around the coffee shop but no one seemed interested in them.

“Pierce is at home, watching a movie.”

Annice raised an eyebrow. “What kind of movie?”
“We watch a lot of documentaries, some detective stuff, some political thrillers…”
“Sounds okay. Probably a bit boring if you’ve seen them before.”
Jane took a sip of her coffee. “I can stand that.”
Annice looked at her over the rim of her mug. “What can’t you stand?”
Jane sighed. “He likes horror movies.”
“You mean like the Elm Street ones?”
“Exactly like that. Stephen King, cult classics, grave robbers, space aliens, the more

fantastic the better.”

Annice pulled a face. “Yech!”
“I know. So we made a deal.”
“Tell me.”
“He watches those when I’m out and we watch the other stuff together. He really

liked Sleepless in Seattle and that one about the brother in a coma…”

“I know the one you mean. I bet you act them out.” Annice gave a grin and leaned

forward, lowering her voice. “I know I would.”

Jane felt the heat rise in her face, giving her away.
Annice chuckled. “I knew it!”
Jane dabbed her forefinger against some crumbs and brushed them onto her plate.

She made herself think of the question that had been in her mind for days, through all

the coaching, the movies and the wild sex. “You said you would do a police check. Did

you find anything?”

Annice smiled. “Not a single thing. But that doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer.

Just that he’s never been caught.”

Jane let out a long breath. “He’s not a serial killer.”
“Maybe not but it could still be some kind of elaborate con.”

Jane’s Prize

“Tell me, what he would have to gain?”
“Well a mansion and a fortune would be a start.”
“But why would he need me?”
“He wouldn’t. You’re just a bonus.”
“No, it doesn’t make sense. He had no way of knowing I would tackle him and

bring him back…”

“You’re still assuming he really was a ghost.”
“We’ve been through this before. I saw the murder scene, the furniture,

everything.”

“I know. But—”
Jane put down her cup. “I know you worry about me,” she said. “And I know

you’re thinking of my welfare but I know Pierce now better than I’ve ever known

anyone in my life. I believe him and I want to help him to fit in.” She smiled and

touched her friend’s hand to soften her words. “I’d also like to keep him. Even if it does

mean a diet of horror movies.”

Annice sighed and raised her hands in mock surrender. “All right already. I give in.

When do you want to see Henry? He’s free tomorrow evening.”

Jane glanced to one side as a couple left the booth next to them.
“Hey, Earth to Jane. Those films are getting to you. Come back to me.”
Annice’s words sounded far away, as if whispered in a tunnel. Jane felt the blood

drain from her face. The woman settling into a seat by the window looked exactly like

Pierce’s stepmother.

Margrett Dawson

Chapter Eleven

Over the arrangements about meeting Henry Galston, Jane shot several

surreptitious looks at the woman by the window. She had only seen the stepmother for

a couple of minutes in the murder reenactment at the Newland mansion. And then

she’d been dressed in a chiffon kind of evening gown. This woman wore white cotton

pants and a pink shirt. But her hair was the same color and fell in soft waves to her

shoulders. Her features were eerily familiar and there was something about the tilt of

her head and the way she lifted her cup…

“What do you keep looking at?” Annice asked.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. You’ve hardly listened to a word I’ve said.” Annice swiveled

around and followed the line of Jane’s gaze. “Is it the woman with the gorgeous ring?

Do you know her?”

Jane felt a shiver down her spine. Trust Annice to notice the very thing that proved

it. The woman lifted her cup once more and the light sparkled on the massive diamond

cluster on her left hand. From where Jane sat it looked just like the ring the late Mrs.

Newland had worn in the family portrait in the house.

She swallowed against a dry throat. “I thought I’d seen her somewhere before but

I’m probably wrong. I’m always seeing people that remind me of someone else. Now,

what were you saying we need to bring for Henry?”

When Annice left to return to work, Jane stayed on, watching the woman, her

thoughts in turmoil. Was she going crazy? Had Pierce influenced her mind to such an

extent that she was seeing ghosts everywhere?

She remembered the touch on Annice’s neck that they had attributed to a cobweb in

the dusty old house. But supposing it hadn’t been a spider web? Supposing it had been

Pierce’s stepmother and she’d wanted to come back to life? Would she only have to

touch someone? If she did, and it worked, would that be all she wanted? Maybe she

wanted to stop Pierce from making a new life for himself…

The woman rose and picked up a fancy straw bag from the seat beside her. Jane

stood. What to do? Should she follow? She had nothing but a feeling of premonition to

justify her fears.

While she hesitated, the woman left some money on the table and stepped toward

the door. Jane grabbed her purse. At least she could watch which way she went, see if

she got into a car.

Jane’s Prize

She reached the doorway barely thirty seconds after the woman and stood on the

threshold, scanning the street. The mystery woman was nowhere to be seen.

On her way back to the apartment Jane turned over in her mind all the possible

ramifications of what she thought she had seen. It was patently ridiculous to think that

the wicked stepmother had brought herself back to life. If she had done it by touching

Annice why hadn’t she materialized right then and there in the same way Pierce had

done?

Could it be because Jane had tackled Pierce in the middle of the murder scene? Had

the murderer still been waiting around the mansion, unable to move on?

Pierce had said that she would vanish once her victim had disappeared but he had

admitted he wasn’t really sure.

Anyway, she wasn’t even positive that the woman she’d seen was Pierce’s killer.

Lots of people look somewhat alike and once you added the change of clothing and an

active imagination you could come up with all kinds of fantasies.

She would just keep an eye open around town and stay close to Pierce. She smiled

to herself. That wouldn’t be hard even if it meant watching a few second-rate movies.

She buzzed the apartment on her way into the building and stepped into the

elevator. Thinking about Pierce set her heart racing. What would he have planned for

her this time? They’d done the sheik and the slave girl last week…

The elevator stopped on the second floor and the doors opened. Pierce stood there

in a dark suit with a white shirt and a tie. He held a briefcase in his left hand. After a

few seconds staring at him she recognized the glimmer of playful lust in his eyes. He

stepped into the car, nodded then turned his back.

“Which floor, madam?”
“Top, please.”
She feasted her eyes on the shape of his shoulders under the smooth fabric and her

heart began a crazy tattoo.

He whistled under his breath as the doors slid shut. “Do you live in this building?”

he asked.

She grinned. So the fantasy was to be two strangers. “A friend of mine lives here. I

was hoping to see him.”

“Ah! Lucky man.” Pierce slid a key into the lock of the elevator and the mechanism

stopped with a whirring sound.

He turned to her. “Sorry madam, there seems to be a fault. It looks as if we’re

trapped.”

“How long will it take to fix?”
“How long will it take to make you come?” He put his briefcase on the floor and

dropped his pants. He wore nothing underneath.

Margrett Dawson

“But I don’t know you,” she protested, entering into the spirit of the game.
His eyes narrowed. “That is beside the point. The price of freedom is to let me fuck

you.” He ran his hand down from her shoulder to her breast. She quivered under his

touch. “Unless you want to press the alarm button.” His lips were close to hers and he

spoke against her mouth. “Do you? Want to raise the alarm? Or do you want me inside

you? Make up your mind before someone decides to call the janitor with his other key.”

“I’ll pay the price,” she whispered and began to unbutton her waistband. “I’m wet

already.”

He pushed her against the back wall of the car and slid his hands around her waist,

pushing her thin pants down her legs.

“Floor or wall?” he whispered in her ear and fastened his lips on her mouth.
She murmured something incomprehensible and felt him lift her. She wound her

legs around his hips and his warm, pulsing cock slid into her hot wetness.

Someone banged on the door of the elevator a floor above them. “Hey,” a voice

shouted. “Are you okay in there?”

She hid her face against Pierce’s shoulder to stifle her cries and her laughter.
“We’re just fine,” Pierce called out. “We’ll have this done in a jiffy.”
Jane felt the wave build and crest in her as Pierce convulsed, crushing her against

the elevator wall.

She felt the car shudder and slid away from him, pulling up her pants and

retrieving her purse. Pierce straightened his clothing, adjusted his tie and picked up his

briefcase. He turned the key back to its normal position and the elevator came back to

life.

On the top floor, their neighbor Mrs. Watkins was at her open door. “Oh, my

dears,” she said. “Thank goodness you’re okay. You could have been in there for hours.

Whatever would you have done?”

“I’m sure we would have found something to occupy us,” Pierce replied with a

straight face. “Did you call the emergency number?”

“I was just about to when it started up again. But I’m going to call the management

company and have them check it out. You can’t be too careful.”

“Good thinking.” Pierce opened the door to their apartment and stood aside for

Jane to go in.

“Have a very good day, Mrs. Watkins.”
He closed the door and they both leaned against it grinning like two naughty

children.

“Where did you get that key?”
“It was hanging on a hook downstairs. I just borrowed it for a few minutes.”
She shook her head. “You never cease to amaze me.”
“That’s the plan.”

Jane’s Prize

It wasn’t until much later that she realized the question of the mysterious woman

who looked like his stepmother had completely left her head.

The next evening, Annice took them to meet Henry Galston. Henry turned out to be

a charming rogue—quite different from Jane’s memory of him as the nerd with acne-

prone skin and glasses. He wore a smart business suit and horn-rimmed spectacles, the

only remnant of his teenage self that she recognized. But when he ushered them into his

den, took off his glasses and loosened his fashionable silk tie, he became all

sophisticated, manipulative bad boy. Annice was obviously besotted and Jane had to

admit if she hadn’t had Pierce close by her side she might have done a bit of fantasizing

herself.

Henry asked for the passport photo. “For the driver’s license,” he said.
“Jane will teach me to drive.” Pierce wiggled his eyebrows at her like Groucho

Marx. “She’s a good teacher. Very interesting methods.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “How long do you think the documents will

take?” she asked Henry.

“License, birth certificate, social security card, high school diploma. One credit card.

Day after tomorrow. Unless there’s anything else you want?”

“Like what?”
“University degree, military service record. That might take a bit longer.”
She looked at Pierce. “Do you?”
He shook his head. “I’ll get the rest on my own steam.”
She was pleased he didn’t want to coast on false information. She turned to Henry.

“How do you do the hologram stuff? I thought that was foolproof.”

“For fools maybe, but if you know what you’re doing you can duplicate anything.

But I won’t tell you how. Trade secret.”

“I understand.”
They left Annice with Henry and returned to their apartment, ready to spend the

next couple of days on a diet of CNN, horror movies and sensual rewards for good

work.

The following week they continued to practice Pierce’s cover story and the

documents arrived from Henry. They looked perfect. Pierce now had a birthday, a place

of birth and a credit rating.

“Is it time to write a letter to your cousin?”
“I think it is.”
In the letter, Pierce introduced himself as the grandson of the man who’d

disappeared and asked to be allowed to call.

Margrett Dawson

Within two days an answer came back instructing Pierce to present himself at the

cousin’s house the following day at eleven.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Jane asked him.
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
They had scouted out the location of his cousin’s house and Jane drew up outside at

exactly ten minutes before the hour.

“Are you sure you want to go in alone?”
“I think that’s best. Wish me luck.”
“Luck and a good memory.” She touched him on the arm and kissed him on the

cheek.

“If I pull it off I’ll need a special reward.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’ll think of something.”
She watched him knock on the door and waited until he’d been ushered into the

house then drove a short distance away for coffee. Suppose the cousin saw through him

right way? Suppose Pierce’s mind went blank at a crucial moment? She ordered coffee

to go and drove back to the house to wait. She couldn’t influence what was going on in

there but it felt better to be close at hand.

To her relief, Pierce wasn’t waiting outside.
She parked across the street and a short way down the block, drank her coffee,

fiddled with the radio. At least Pierce had gone into the house and all was quiet. She

willed herself to relax and be patient.

Jane’s Prize

Chapter Twelve

Pierce waited for Jane to pull away and took a few moments to look over the house.

It was of a Cape Cod saltbox design and he found the style reassuring. So much of what

he’d seen had been concrete and glass, especially in town, and very different from the

surroundings he’d been used to. He liked the white clapboard and the shingled roof. He

took it as a good omen that his unknown relative had chosen something well-tried and

enduring. He hoped family ties and traditions were equally important to him. The

bushes in front of the house were well trimmed, the flowerbeds neat and colorful. He

took a deep breath as Jane’s car disappeared around the corner. This was his first big

test and he’d wanted to face it on his own. Finding his way around town and making a

few purchases in the stores had been good practice but basically trivial. This meeting

would decide his future once and for all. He couldn’t blow it. Squaring his shoulders, he

walked up the stone path to the house. The wooden door offered a choice of an

oversized bell or a brass knocker in the shape of a whale. He chose the knocker and

gave a sharp rap.

The door opened to reveal a slim, erect man with sleek silver hair and merry blue

eyes in a tanned face. The only clue to his age was a cane with a silver handle in his

right hand.

Pierce knew he was staring. He should have expected the family resemblance but

seeing his cousin in the flesh took his breath away.

The man hooked the cane over his arm and held out his hand. “Pierce, my boy,

come along in. I’d have known you anywhere. I’m Alexander Newland. You’re the

image of your grandfather at your age. It’s quite uncanny. Come, come.”

He ushered Pierce into a sitting room at the back of the house. Large windows

looked out over an immaculate lawn and towering beech trees cast a dappled shade.

“Sit, sit,” said his cousin. “Would you like coffee or something stronger?”
“Nothing, thank you.” Pierce sank into a wing armchair. “Forgive me, I’m finding it

a bit overwhelming to meet someone from the family at last.”

“Indeed, indeed.” Alexander poured a cup of coffee from a pot sitting on a side

table and took one of the other chairs. “Let me look at you,” he said. “I always knew

Pierce didn’t die, although I wouldn’t have put anything past that witch who called

herself his stepmother. But I never understood why he never contacted me.”

“I don’t know, sir. He didn’t talk much of his life in Maine. It was as if he drew a

line under all the early years. I think he wanted to put it all behind him.” Pierce shifted

in his seat to put one foot on the opposite knee and clasped his ankle.

Margrett Dawson

“More than likely. I still remember the ball games we went to. You know, there was

one World Series game that I could still tell you ball by ball.” He shook his head. “I was

a lonely little boy and your grandfather was good to me.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Pierce was beginning to find it hard to stay in persona. He

remembered very clearly the same ball game and young Alex’s excitement when he got

a souvenir baseball. He had to focus and not make any slips.

“I still have the ball.”
Pierce forced himself to appear ignorant. “How did you get that?”
“Your grandfather took me into the dressing rooms after the game. I think he’d

been to school with one of the officials. And we came out with one of the balls they’d

actually used and which had scored the winning home run.”

“Wow! That must be pretty valuable now.”
“I wouldn’t sell it anymore than I was willing to sell the old house. Something told

me to hang on to it and I was right.”

“Indeed you were, sir.”
Alexander put down his untouched coffee. “Now my will says that my executor is

to try to find any heirs but it seems that won’t be necessary.”

Pierce put his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You’ll need some

proof…” he began.

Alex waved a hand. “I’ll leave that to the legal types, I can see you’re a Newland.

Even have the same mannerisms as your grandfather, although I don’t suppose you

know that.”

“What are they, sir?”
“You sit the same way. Mind you, your grandfather always said it was more

comfortable because it took the strain off an old football injury to his back. Did he ever

mention it?”

“Yes, I believe he did.”
The old man chuckled. “You must have picked up the habit without realizing it.”
“I guess I did.” Pierce laughed, although he felt a sadness as he contemplated all the

years and the family he’d missed.

“You know I never married.”
“I heard that.”
“Too busy enjoying life and making money. By the time I lifted my head from the

ledger books it was too late. You know how young people think they’re immortal.

There’s plenty of time, they say. Not true, even if you live as long as I have.” He fixed

Pierce with a piercing blue stare. “Are you married?”

Pierce put both feet on the ground. “No I—”
“Don’t leave it too late like me. Enjoy business, do you?”
“I do.”

Jane’s Prize

“Any good at it?”
“Not bad.” Pierce prayed he wouldn’t ask for stock tips or details of his

investments.

“Making money isn’t everything. If you inherit from me you won’t need much. You

can do what gives you pleasure.”

“Good advice.”
“You better believe it is. Do you have a young lady?”
“Yes. Yes I do.”
“Serious?”
“Very serious for me. She’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“Pretty?”
“More than pretty. She’s beautiful.”
“Good, good.” The old man nodded his head. “But does she like you?” he asked

with a grin.

“She says she does. I believe her.”
“Excellent. Bring her to see me. Not enough young people around anymore. I’m

getting old and stodgy.”

Alexander levered himself to his feet with the help of his cane. “You’ll forgive me

but I have another appointment and then I’m going to talk to the lawyers. If they give

the okay we’ll redo the will with your name. Expect to hear from them. That’s when

you’ll need your paperwork.”

He moved toward the door and Pierce stood to follow. At the front door, the old

man put his arm around Pierce’s shoulders. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Pierce swallowed a lump in his throat as he patted his cousin’s arm. “I’ll be back to

see you soon. You take care.”

At last Jane saw the front door open and Pierce appeared. He was nodding and

smiling to someone inside and turned once on the steps to wave goodbye again. He

turned toward the street, took the remaining steps in one leap then strode to the car.

Jane hardly dared ask how it had gone but when he faced her with a smile she

knew it had been okay.

“He believed you?”
“Every word.”
Jane started the car and pulled away.
“I’m to talk to the lawyers. He’s going to call them about his will.”
“I thought he already left everything to heirs of the family.”

Margrett Dawson

“Right, but now he wants to put my name to it.” He folded his fingers over her

hand on the wheel. “The house and everything will be mine, just as it was supposed to

have been.”

Jane shook her head. “Incredible. You did well.”
“He was a sad old boy in a way. Full of life though. He said he was a lonely little

boy and I think he was a lonely man too. He wants to meet you.”

“He does?” Jane shot him a glance. “What did you tell him?”
“He asked me if I was married and when I said no he asked if I had a young lady,

as he put it. I told him the truth.”

“I see.”
“I told him you were beautiful and that you like me.”
His hand fell to her lap and his fingers snaked their way to the juncture of her

thighs. She shifted in her seat and her breath came more quickly.

“And that you’re very special to me in every way.” He stroked her through the

fabric. “Do you like that?”

“You know I do.”
“I could make you come right now.”
“I know you could. But it might be dangerous. I could drive right into a tree.”
“You have a problem then. What are you going to do about it?”
Jane turned off onto a gravel road on the right.
“Where are you going?”
“I told you I would think of something.”
She moved again in her seat and opened her legs a little as he pressed his fingers

against her mound. Immediately his hand slid deeper between her thighs.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “You do want it.”
He removed his hand for a moment and lifted it to his face. “I love the scent of

arousal.”

“God.” Jane fought the wheel as the car bumped down the track. The spot where

his hand had been felt cold, bereft.

His hand returned to her thighs and she moaned, clenching her teeth as he began to

stroke again. His thumb found her swollen clit. She prayed that the tiny park she had

thought of would be as deserted as it usually was. It had no beach, no swing sets, just a

few picnic tables and a fireplace for grilling. It was a favorite spot at night for teens but

no one went there during the day.

At last the gravel road ended in a small parking lot with no vehicles. Breathing a

prayer of thanks, she slammed the car out of gear and into park. Without waiting for

Pierce she hurried to one of the picnic tables, loosening the button of her shorts as she

went. She heard the slam of the passenger door and the crunch of Pierce’s footsteps. She

Jane’s Prize

had given up wearing panties a while ago. Pierce wanted her so often and she was so

eager for him that flimsy bits of lace were a decided nuisance.

At the closest picnic table she kicked off her shorts and lay flat on her back, inviting

him with her naked pussy. Pierce was no more than twenty seconds behind her. He

unzipped and freed his wonderful long, thick cock then slid his hands down her legs to

spread them. In twenty more seconds he was standing between her thighs at the end of

the table. He lifted her hips and placed her legs over his forearms, leaving his hands

free to move up under her shirt and knead her breasts, opening her wider with each

forward movement.

In the car she’d been so close to coming that she’d imagined she would explode like

a rocket but he’d made her wait, teasing her for what seemed like centuries. The scent of

the cedar of the wood under her shoulders mingled with the faint aroma of roasted

meat and pine branches.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles as he moved. She

tried to pull him down onto her as she begged for relief but he held her off, stroking her

wet pussy with the head of his cock while she moaned and pleaded with him to fuck

her, to slam into her, make her come.

At last he slid into her and then she came right away, moaning and shuddering as

he drove into her.

Margrett Dawson

Chapter Thirteen

Jane started the car to drive back to town. “I feel as if I’m on drugs,” she said as she

put the car into reverse. Her limbs felt heavy, as if her brain had difficulty connecting

with the muscles. “Don’t forget your seat belt.”

Pierce buckled up as she backed the vehicle onto the dirt road.
“Now I have my ID,” he said, “I could learn to drive.”
“Sure. There are a couple of good schools in town.”
“You won’t teach me?” He put his hand over hers on the steering wheel.
“My God no. I might let you drive into the back of a bus. You distract me too

much.”

“Too bad. Not that I distract you, but I’d like a reason to extract a teaching fee

again.”

“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll have to devise another way to keep you in bed.” He grinned at her and touched

the back of her hand.

“You don’t have to—” She broke off as she caught a glimpse of a woman with

blonde hair crossing the street. “Look, Pierce. Doesn’t she look exactly like your

stepmother?” Jane slowed and a minivan behind her hooted.

Pierce bent to peer through the windshield. “Where? Who?”
“She’s gone. She must have turned the corner.” The minivan went past with two

kids waving and poking out their tongues. “Sorry about that. Let me pull in.” Jane

signaled to take a parking spot in front of a bookstore.

“I don’t understand. What’s the panic?”
“I didn’t tell you but I thought I saw her in the coffee shop a few days ago. You

know how it is, you see a face that reminds you of someone. I thought she looked a lot

like your stepmother.”

“I don’t think that’s likely.”
“I guess you’re right. But ever since we talked about her maybe being able to touch

someone and come back, I’ve had this awful feeling that she might do it.”

Pierce frowned. “Let’s find her and I can tell you for sure. But I don’t think it’s

possible for her to be here.”

“You’re not certain of that.”
Pierce shook his head. “There are all kinds of things that go on in the other

dimensions that I know nothing about.”

Jane’s Prize

“If she could come through like you did, do you think she might be here to harm

you?”

“How could she come through?”
“Annice thought something touched her in the house.”
“It was a spider’s web.”
“Maybe.”
“Hey there.” Pierce took her hand. “You’re trembling. I thought you were the

skeptic here.”

“I was until I met you. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Okay, let’s put your mind at rest. We’ll find her and I’ll take a good look at her.”

He opened the car door and a horn blast made him shut it quickly. A truck barreled by.

“We’re both a menace to traffic right now,” Jane said. “Let’s take a deep breath and

think about this.”

“Not much to think about. We get out of the car without causing an accident. We

walk in the same direction as the woman you saw. We take a good look at her. I tell you

she resembles my stepmother but it’s not her. Then we come back to the car, drive to

the apartment and then…”

Pierce glanced behind and opened the door when the road was clear. Jane

unfastened her seat belt and slid out of the vehicle. She still felt uneasy. Pierce came

around as she locked the door and took her arm.

“Ready for ghost hunting?”
“That’s not funny. Will you promise me one thing?
“What’s that, my love?”
“If we find her you won’t get too close. You won’t let her touch you.”
“I keep telling you it’s not her.”
“Even so…” Jane took his hand.
“Okay. That’s an easy one. I promise.”
They walked toward the corner where Jane had last glimpsed the woman. She took

a deep breath. Why was she feeling so apprehensive, so threatened? The sun beat down

with summer warmth yet she shivered. A crowd in holiday mood surrounded them yet

she felt alone. Only the feel of Pierce’s strong arm steadying her seemed to anchor her

to reality. Was it all going to come apart? Maybe the few weeks they had spent together

were all there was to be. A cruel fate had allowed her to taste a joy and a

companionship she had only dreamed of and now was it to be snatched away?

She focused on the approaching street corner. Every step forward was an effort. All

her instincts screamed at her to run, to take Pierce away. If she felt an emotional threat,

a dark shadow over her soul, he faced something more. Maybe he could be snatched

back. She grasped his forearm with shaking fingers. “Stay close.”

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Margrett Dawson

They reached the corner far too soon. The woman Jane had seen a few minutes

before was standing about halfway along the street, looking into a shop window. As if

she sensed their arrival she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Then she turned

slowly and took another step down the street. To a casual observer she would seem to

be a youngish woman, dressed in holiday clothes as one would expect in mid-summer

on the coast, out to kill a couple of hours shopping in the tourist area. Once more the

woman stopped and looked back at them again as if inviting them to follow.

Jane heard Pierce’s quick intake of breath.
“Is it her?”
“It looks very like her but I wouldn’t swear to it. Let’s go closer.”
“No. Stay away. She frightens me.”
“Well she always was a scary woman. But her hair’s different and the clothes of

course. She does bear a resemblance but it’s not possible that it’s her.”

“Where did she go?”
They had taken their eyes from her for a mere moment while they spoke. When

they looked back she was nowhere in sight.

“She must have gone into that shop. We’ll check. I need to set your mind at rest.”

He sensed Jane’s hesitation. “We’ll stay outside.”

Reluctantly she allowed him to lead her down the street to a large window that

displayed glasswork and jewelry.

“It’s the kind of place she’d like,” Pierce muttered. He shaded his eyes with a hand

and peered through the plate glass. “I don’t see her. There’s a fairly good view all

around.” He dropped his hand. “I don’t think she’s there. We must have been mistaken.

But I think we’ve lost her.”

He put his arm around Jane. “You’re upset. Let me take you home. It’s nothing to

worry about. You just saw someone that looked like her and your mind is playing

tricks.”

“I’m so afraid she’ll harm you.”
He laughed. “How can she harm me? She’s just a young woman enjoying the town.

Come.” He turned her gently away from the shop.

Jane nodded and moved with him back to where she had parked the car.

For the rest of the day Jane found it impossible to shake off the gray cloud of unease

that had settled on her. It followed her around as she made a snack and hovered over

her shoulder as she tried to watch a DVD video of a Stephen King classic.

Pierce switched off the set at the end and beamed at her. “I love that stuff.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
He stood and knelt beside her. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s the matter? Are you mad

at me? What did I do?”

Jane’s Prize

She stroked his hair and let her fingertips linger around his mouth. “I’m mad at

myself more than anything.”

“Is it still about the woman we saw?”
She nodded. “I can’t get her out of my mind. I only saw her for a few minutes at the

house—”

“When she was murdering me.”
“I have this dread that she may want to take you back with her or kill you again. I

don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“You won’t lose me.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Not unless you want to

get rid of me.”

She rested her cheek on his head. “Are you sure you don’t know anything more

about coming back? Are there different ways of doing it?”

“I only really know about touching, and so if it was her touching Annice I suppose

it’s possible. But highly unlikely.”

“Why would she want to take you back?”
“We don’t know that’s what she wants. We don’t even know that’s who she is.” He

sat back on his heels. “Look, while I was dead I only heard stories about those who

returned to the living. No one knows for sure how it happens.”

“Someone might.”
“What?”
“There are people who study phenomena and do all kinds of research. I bet

someone has looked into this.”

“Maybe—”
At that instant the phone rang. Pierce stood. “I’ll get it.”
Jane watched him cross the room and pick up the receiver. He looked as if he’d

never known anything else but life in the twenty-first century. At times she found it

difficult to recall that in reality he was over a hundred years old.

“Thank you,” Pierce said into the phone. “I’ll do that right away.”
He hung up. “Feel like a trip to Boston? My cousin’s lawyers want to give me the

third degree.”

“In Boston?”
“Right. At the head office. I have the feeling that my cousin Alex would accept me

even if he had doubts because he has no one else to leave his money to and he liked me.

I brought back good memories. But I expect the lawyers will be tougher.”

“I’m sure they will.”
“So you want to come? I’ll let you drive me and we can find a couple of good hotels

on the way.”

It would be good to get away. More than likely the mystery woman would be long

gone when they returned. “You bet. When do we leave?”

Margrett Dawson

“Tomorrow morning.”

Jane’s Prize

Chapter Fourteen

Jane called Annice at her office to let her know she’d be out of town for a few days.

“Do you know anyone who’s into the woo-woo stuff?” she asked.

“My God, what next?” Annice lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “Aren’t fake

IDs enough?”

Jane hoped none of Annice’s lawyer bosses were within earshot. “There used to be

a woman about three miles out on the coast road. Wasn’t she giving séances or

something?”

“What on earth do you want to do? Make contact with the spirit world again?

Haven’t you had your fill of that?”

“Not exactly. Make contact I mean. I’d like to know if there are any theories about

what happened to Pierce. You know, any ideas or stories about—coming back.”

She heard Annice give a big sigh. “Tell me what’s up.”
“Is anyone else there?”
“No. There’s a big meeting on. The partners are all in the conference room. I’m

supposed to hold all calls.”

“You remember when the spider web fell on you in the Newland house?
“How could I forget? Cut two years off my life.”
“We think it might not have been a spider.”
There was a moment’s silence “What do you mean? What else could it have been?”

Annice whispered.

“I think I’ve seen Pierce’s stepmother around town.
“Was that the woman you were staring at in the coffee shop?”
“You noticed.”
“I did. Go on.”
Jane swallowed. “This sounds silly I know…”
“Not any sillier than the other stuff you’ve made me believe.”
“I’m wondering if she was still in the house even though Pierce had gone and if she

touched you. That could mean she came back, like Pierce did.”

“But I thought the living person had to touch the dead one. I can’t believe I’m

saying this.”

“I think that’s what normally happens. You see, Pierce said most ghosts either don’t

know they’re dead or they’re bound somehow to the afterlife. But Pierce and his

stepmother seem to be a bit different. If she’s come through I need to know what she

Margrett Dawson

could do. Would she be just like Pierce and take her place in the world? Or does she

have a problem remaining here? Most of all I want to know if she’s here to harm him.”

“You sound pretty convinced she’s here.”
“Pierce says it’s not possible but I think he’s in denial. I need to know. I’m looking

over my shoulder every two minutes, scared to death she might appear behind us.”

“Appear?”
“She seems to come and go suddenly.”
“What you need is a psychic expert, not a medium.”
“I do?”
“Yes. I’m not saying I believe this but I’ll go along for now. If she’s here then you’re

not going to contact her at a séance. Let me look in our list of people we use as expert

witnesses. They’re usually all about fingerprints and science stuff but I think there

might be someone we used a year or so ago…”

Jane heard a sudden babble of voices in the background.
“Meeting’s over,” Annice said. “Call you back.”

Pierce threw the last few clothes into his bag on the bed and closed the zipper. He

could hear Jane on the phone in the living room. It was amazing how he’d become so

accustomed to the sound of her voice, how he’d grown to expect to see her engrossed in

a book, sharing a meal, lying next to him in the bed. He smoothed a wrinkle in the

bedspread.

At first he’d wanted her body like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
But he’d come to realize how extraordinarily fortunate he’d been in the person

who’d touched him and brought him back to life. She’d accepted him and helped him.

Where would he be without all the information she’d given him, without the

documents her friends had procured? Still struggling to find a place to live and a story

to reunite him with his family, that’s where.

Despite all the problems, Jane had persevered until she’d found the solution to each

one. She was smart and loyal and fun to be with, even when they weren’t in bed.

When he looked back he saw that he hadn’t had much real fun as a boy and a

young man. During his first lifetime, his family had hung together in a kind of loose

confederation where everyone followed their own whims. They got together at

Christmas, for important anniversaries but the small stuff of daily living, the things that

bound people together with joys and sorrows passed them by. Maybe that was why

he’d taken his young cousin Alexander under his wing all those years ago. He’d been

starved for real human affection and contact.

Alexander, who was ninety now and thought he might leave his fortune to a young

man who claimed to be a descendant of his cousin who’d disappeared.

His thoughts went back to the days when he and his cousin were both young.

There’d been lots of parties where people claimed to be having a wonderful time and

Jane’s Prize

sex had been freely available. He’d been a catch and there had been droves of young

women waiting to catch his eye. He’d let his eye be caught time and again but he’d

escaped the snare of marriage. Even if he’d married all those years ago his wife would

be dead, wouldn’t she?

Servants had looked after the house and everything that needed to be done was

accomplished quietly and efficiently. In the few weeks with Jane he’d learned more

about shopping, cooking and cleaning than his mother and stepmother ever knew.

The thought of his stepmother made him frown. Jane was convinced she was in the

town but that was hardly possible. If she had come back she was surely up to no good.

She’d been a spiteful, spoiled woman only interested in her son, and if she’d contrived

to rejoin the world he’d bet it was to take some kind of revenge.

Revenge on him or revenge on Jane? It would be typical of his stepmother to want

to spoil things for the woman he cared about. The thought made his muscles tense with

a sudden spasm of fear. Maybe he should pay more attention. Although he wasn’t

convinced she was around, it wouldn’t do any harm to be watchful. Luckily they were

going out of town for a few days.

He picked up his bag and returned to the living room. The apartment was tiny,

hardly bigger than the housekeeper’s rooms at the mansion, yet he felt as if it were truly

home. Jane was standing at the end of the kitchen counter, talking on the phone. She

brushed strands of hair back from her cheek as she talked. She wore white pants and a

cherry red top that emphasized her light tan and clung to her slim waist. Her slender

feet were bare and she’d painted her nails to match her tank top. Her hair was caught

up in a red bow, exposing her ears and the tender nape of her neck.

Pierce was suddenly overwhelmed by a strange sensation he’d never felt before. It

wasn’t lust, he could recognize that, and heaven knew he lusted after Jane most of the

time. She only had to dart him a glance or brush against him in passing and his

hormones were on immediate alert. No, this was more than lust. This was yearning to

hold her and keep her safe and do anything for her that she asked. This was wanting to

stay with her forever.

Could this be love?
She looked at him as she talked and a smile curved her lips. His insides melted. He

moved over to her and she gave him her free hand.

“Okay, Mom. I’ll be gone about five days,” she said. “You’re going to do what?” He

heard her mother’s voice in the pause.

“With Jim? I see. Well have fun.” She hung up the phone. “My mother’s going

away for a dirty weekend.”

“I like your mom.”
“Me too but I don’t feel as if I know her these days.”
“Like mother like daughter.” He pulled Jane closer. “I hope.”

Margrett Dawson

Jane gave a small laugh. “I don’t know how I feel about that. It’s a funny feeling to

think of your mother as a sexual being.”

“We’ll still be that way when we’re her age.” He kissed the side of her mouth.
“That would be something.”
He held her away from him and looked into her eyes. “Don’t you want that?”
“Do you?”
“More than anything in the world.”
He felt her relax against him and she buried her face in his shoulder. Her voice was

muffled when she spoke. “Is this getting serious?”

“How serious do you want it to be? We live together.”
“Lots of couples live together.”
“So you told me. And it’s not serious?”
“Not always.”
“What would make it serious? A ring?”
“You don’t have to make any gestures.”
He tightened his arms around her. “I know. Supposing I want to?”
“What do you want to do?”
“You mean apart from ripping your clothes off and ravishing you on the cold

kitchen floor?”

He felt her head move as she nodded.
“I want to stay with you, but I’m going to wait until we’ve seen the lawyers then

you and I are going to sit down and have a serious talk about our future. Will you

wait?”

“I’ll wait.”
“Now what about that inviting floor?”
“The bed’s more comfortable.”
“I’m all for comfort.”
For a long moment they stood and held each other. He kissed her once then again.

She rose to him, her soft mouth opening under his. She tasted like mint and jasmine.

They were lovely kisses. In his heart and mind he understood that their time together

was special because, like it or not, he was on the threshold of a commitment that would

change both their lives forever.

Without a word he led her to the bedroom, one arm around her waist and his head

on her shoulder.

He moved with her farther into the room and laid her on the bed. Slowly, lovingly

he undressed her. The drapes were still drawn, the only light coming through the open

door from the reflected rays of sunshine in the other room. Part of him wanted to hold

back, to save something of himself, but he found it impossible to do so with Jane. He

Jane’s Prize

was unrestrained, his mouth eager on hers, hungry on her body, his hands shaking as

they touched her. Even his voice when he murmured her name sounded rough and

urgent in his ears.

Deep inside he was a wary, prickly, guarded person despite the carefree manner he

had forged over the years. And with her, he was cementing a connection, flesh to flesh

and soul to soul. And even as he lost himself in the pleasure of it, Pierce was conscious

of an almost wordless hope. This time it would be the real thing.

Annice called back on Jane’s cell phone when they had been on the road for an

hour. Jane pulled over to take the call.

“I found it.”
“What?”
“The name of the psychic expert. We used her for some guy who said his dead

grandfather was telling him to hang around laundromats and steal wet clothes.”

“Sounds more like mental illness to me.”
“It was but that’s not the point. The point is she’s written all kinds of books about

psychic phenomena. For us it was overkill calling someone like that but the prosecution

pulled out the big guns. The cops were fed up with the guy.”

“Did you win?”
“Yeah we did. But we weren’t all that happy. Guy’s not stealing laundry anymore.”
“So that’s good.”
“His grandfather graduated to the Internet. So far he’s only sending loving

messages. As long as he doesn’t start telling him to chop up his neighbor. “

“How do you know what he’s doing now?”
“I see Pete Burrard from time to time.”
“I thought you were tight with Henry.”
“Got to keep my options open you know. Variety is the spice of life.”
Jane sighed. Having one man in her life took all her energy. No way she could

handle two at the same time. “So what’s the name? Of the psychic?”

“Just a minute. Name is Selma Thaddeus. Lives in Concord, in New Hampshire.

Say, you’re going to Boston right?”

“Right.”
“You’ll pass right by her door. Here’s her phone number.”
Jane closed the phone and reached for the road atlas.
“What did she say?
“There’s a woman who might help us in Concord. It’s not much of a detour. We

could swing by there now or on our way back.”

Pierce frowned, thinking. “How much time do we have?”

Margrett Dawson

100

“We should be fine even if we have to stay overnight. Although we were a bit late

setting out.” She met Pierce’s eyes. “It was worth it.”

Something had happened in the last few hours. She had sensed a change in Pierce, a

shift in his lovemaking. It had still been burning and intense but she had felt a

tenderness that had been missing before. His hands on her had been as warm and

caressing as ever but it was as if a barrier had fallen. He allowed himself to be open and

vulnerable. Until it had happened she hadn’t even realized that he’d been holding back

but now she knew the difference. She smiled at him in their shared knowledge of the

transformation in their relationship and he smiled back.

“I think we should know what we’re dealing with,” she said. “Let’s try to find out if

your stepmother could really be back in the world and if she poses a threat.”

He nodded, lost in thought. “Maybe that would be best. Let me have the map. I

think I’m up to navigating now.”

Jane started the engine and glanced over her shoulder. She’d sounded confident in

her desire to find out what was before them but her insides cramped with

apprehension.

Jane’s Prize

101

Chapter Fifteen

“Maybe this was a mistake. I like the coast road better than the interstate but I

hadn’t reckoned on all this traffic. Other times of the year we’d be in Concord in an

hour and a half.” Jane shifted into neutral and eased into the line of summer traffic.

“Today it’s anybody’s guess.”

Pierce placed his hand on the nape of her neck and rubbed gently. “Some things

you can’t control,” he said. “It’s not your fault. See how tense you are? You need a

relaxing massage.”

“Mmm. Sounds good.” Jane arched back against his hand.
A convertible full of teenagers slid alongside. Two youngsters in shorts and tank

tops were sprawled on the back seat, soda cans in hand. The boy waved a bare foot at

them, wiggling his toes.

“Did you phone the number Annice gave you?” Pierce leaned forward and waved

back, eliciting a cheer from the adolescents.

Jane nodded and rolled another three feet forward. “I couldn’t give a definite

arrival time but she said there’s no problem if I call when we approach Concord. She’ll

be home all evening.” Pierce’s hand still lay lightly on her shoulder. It felt solid and

reassuring.

“So what are we going to tell her exactly?”
“I think we should pose the question as a hypothetical story. Just tell her we’re

researching psychic phenomena.”

“If she’s truly psychic she’ll know there’s more to it.”
A space opened up as a car left the line and Jane took advantage of the gap.
“I’m not sure she has any abilities like that. From what Annice said she’s more of a

researcher.”

“Let’s hope so.”
Jane shot him a glance. “Are you okay with consulting her?”
“I guess so.”
She saw the set of his mouth as he stared ahead. “What’s the problem?”
“I’d just like us to get on with our life and forget everything about my stepmother.”
“But we can’t do that if she keeps appearing.”
“We’re not even sure it’s her. And the only way to be sure is to let her get close.”
Jane shivered despite the summer heat. “You think that could be dangerous?”
“She murdered once. Are you prepared for her to do it again?”

Margrett Dawson

102

Jane put a hand over his. “I think that’s why we have to know what’s possible.”
“Anything is possible.” He pushed his hair back and rubbed his hand over his face.

“We could lose it all.”

The traffic light ahead changed to green and the cars began to move again. Jane had

to watch the road so she couldn’t look at Pierce, but she felt the tension in his body.

“We won’t lose it,” she said firmly. “We’ll go home after we talk to this woman and

you see the lawyers in Boston. We’ll know as much as we can about how to send your

stepmother back where she came from if she is here.” She made her voice positive and

cheerful as if she were encouraging her fifth graders to run another lap of the playing

field. But a cold knot of fear sat just above her breastbone, threatening to spread and

take over her mind unless she fought it with all she had.

“What happened to the railway?” Pierce said suddenly.
It took a moment to switch to a new line of thought. “The trains? They’re still there

but not much used nowadays. People prefer to drive.”

“There was a great service when I was around.”
“America started a love affair with the automobile. We built roads instead of track

and rolling stock. This is the result.” She gestured to a monstrous semi trailer that

quivered and shuddered in the adjoining lane.

Pierce laughed. “Ironic that your car can drive a hundred miles an hour but it won’t

get to Boston any faster than my roadster would have done decades ago.”

“I know. Progress.”
The road opened up a couple of miles farther on as some traffic peeled off toward

Old Orchard Beach and then Kennebunkport. Jane pressed on the gas pedal and they

covered the next few miles in good time.

Jane followed Route Nine and then Four, passing over the I-95. Traffic below them

was bumper to bumper. “Not such a mistake after all, to take the other road,” she said.

They passed through North Berwick and then reached Dover, following on to

Concord. Jane glanced at her watch. “Four o’clock. We didn’t stop for lunch. I bet

you’re hungry.”

“Just a ghost of my former self.”
She laughed. “That’s not really funny. Want a hamburger to keep you going?”
“Sounds good.”
She steered the car into a fast-food drive-through and they ordered drinks and

burgers. A small patch of grass offered a couple of picnic tables in the shade. When

their order came Jane parked and they took one of the tables.

“There’s a nice old hotel in Concord where I stayed once. I think it dates from the

eighteen hundreds.”

Pierce groaned. “More old stuff.”

Jane’s Prize

103

“It’s beautiful.” Jane smacked him lightly on the arm. “It’s modernized of course,

but I like the old stuff.”

“I know. That’s why you like me, right?” He took her hand and looked into her

eyes.

“Right.”
His tone was light but she saw seriousness in his eyes and vulnerability in his face,

which stabbed her heart. She could sense his anxiety about the interview with the

lawyers and she knew he was worried about the possibility of his stepmother having

rejoined the world. Jane was his link to both the past and the future. Their relationship

made it all possible.

She squeezed his hand, let it go and gathered up the debris of their lunch. “First

let’s worry about finding a room,” she said.

The historic inn in Concord was situated on a quiet, tree-lined street. They pulled in

front of the three story building. It was a beautiful Victorian brick structure and a shiny

plaque near the main entrance indicated it was built in 1849.

“Older than me,” Pierce said as he looked up at the façade.
“But inside it’s modern.”
“Just like me.” He grinned at her and took her hand. “Lead on.”
The entrance was furnished like a large sitting room in a family home, with

comfortable chairs, small tables and deep pile rugs in restful greens and blues. Jane

located the reception desk tucked discreetly into a corner. The young man greeted her

with a smile.

“Welcome. I’ll check your name for your reservation.”
“I didn’t make one.”
The clerk frowned. “Oh dear. At this time of year—” He turned the pages of the

me a moment.” Jane sighed and hitched her purse onto her shoulder. They would have

to scour the motels on the outskirts of the city.

“They don’t have a room,” she said to Pierce. “I should have thought of calling for a

reservation.”

The clerk put down the phone. “You’re in luck,” he said. “That was a cancellation.

Would you like to take it? It’s our best room, a queen mini suite with hot tub and

balcony.”

“We’ll take it.” Jane unzipped her purse to find her credit card.
The room was on the top floor and had views over the old part of the city. A tree

sheltered the balcony with its spreading branches, where a small table and chairs stood

invitingly. In the bedroom area, the wooden headboard gleamed with a silky patina

that coordinated perfectly with the white handwoven cover. In the sitting area a TV was

housed in an antique cupboard in front of the faded chintz sofa with large, round arms.

Margrett Dawson

104

Jane looked around with a sigh of contentment. “Isn’t this lovely?” she said.

“There’s a hot tub.” The bathroom was a masterpiece of modernity inserted into a

beautifully paneled room. The promised hot tub stood in front of the large window next

to the gleaming shower. She peeped through the curtains. “No one to overlook us,” she

exclaimed and drew back the drapes.

“Do you like it?” She turned back to Pierce who still stood on the threshold. He

nodded slowly. “Very nice. It gives me ideas about what can be done with the mansion

if I inherit it.”

“Of course you’ll inherit it.” She moved toward him and slid her arms ‘round his

waist. “This is an omen, getting this room. It means everything is going to go perfectly

with the lawyers.”

“Is that right?” Pierce’s voice was subdued but he drew her head to his shoulder

and stroked her hair.

“Let me call this psychic person and make an appointment.”
She released him with a kiss and took her cell phone from her purse.
Selma Thaddeus answered on the second ring. Selma’s voice was deep and smooth.

It was impossible to tell how old she might be.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she said when Jane asked for an appointment, “I know I said I

would be home this evening but I forgot about a speaking engagement tonight at the

university. I am free tomorrow morning at nine. Could you make that?”

“We have to be in Boston tomorrow. We were really hoping to see you tonight.”
“I see. Can you tell me once again exactly what you want to know?”
“A friend of ours has been experiencing some strange happenings and thinks it

might be something to do with ghosts. We wanted to ask you about other

manifestations you’ve studied to see if this could be real or imaginary.”

“A friend of yours, eh?” Jane could hear the chuckle in the velvety voice. “Well, I

can certainly tell you if the experiences he’s having are anything like others I’ve

documented.”

“That’s exactly what we want.”
Selma paused as if weighing what Jane had just told her. “I usually go to bed quite

late and I should be home by ten tonight. I’d be happy to meet you then. Will that suit

you?”

“Thank you. We’ll be there.”
Jane tucked the phone away and pushed back her hair, then felt Pierce’s arms wind

‘round her. She leaned back against him and let out a long breath. “Selma Thaddeus

can’t see us until later tonight. We have to go over about ten.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “So we have the rest of the afternoon and this

evening to ourselves.”

“That’s right.”

Jane’s Prize

105

“I think we should put everything else out of our minds. Let’s indulge ourselves.”
It was true they had been absorbed with setting up their apartment, dealing with

finding Pierce his ID, meeting with his cousin Alexander. They made love often but

sometimes they were distracted by the other concerns.

“Just us.” He placed a gentle kiss next to her eye. “No one to see, no phone to

answer, no plans to make, except how you want me to fuck you.”

“That’s what you’re going to do?” She kept her tone light but her heart had begun

to pound and she felt the release of the first drops of moisture between her legs. They

were standing facing the window and the breeze through the open panes ruffled the

lace curtains and fanned her hot face.

“First we need to get naked, or nearly naked,” he murmured. “What did you bring

with you?”

“Nothing special.”
“I thought as much. Just one moment.”
He released her and picked up his overnight bag. Undoing the fastening he pulled

out a small package wrapped in pretty tissue paper. “This is for you.”

Jane took it in wonder. “What on Earth—?” She pulled off the wrapping and shook

out short robe in midnight blue silk. It would just graze the top of her thighs. The tie at

the neck allowed the front to remain open.

“Nothing underneath,” Pierce whispered. “It will just cover your delicious pussy

and I can open it up to fuck you. Put it on now.”

Without a word she obeyed, pulling her T-shirt over her head, stepping out of her

cotton pants. She stood in her lace bra and panties.

“All of it. I’ll close my eyes.” He did more than close his eyes. He turned his back

while she stripped to her skin and slipped into the short robe. The silk wafted

sensuously over her body, caressing her breasts so the nipples puckered and stood up.

As Pierce had predicted, the frilled hem just covered her pussy. The open front invited

an exploring hand.

Jane drew a long, slow breath. “Your turn,” she said. “But I want you naked.”
“Good, you want to see all of me.” He grinned. “Happy to oblige.” Immediately he

unbuckled and stepped out of his pants. In thirty seconds all his clothes pooled around

his feet save for his briefs. She noted a satisfying bulge.

“Maybe I should have made you go slower,” she said. “But now I see what you

have for me, I think you’d better go all the way.”

“You wanted it slow?” With a wicked smile, he hooked his thumbs into the

waistband and inched the fabric down, stopping just short of revealing his cock.

“More, more,” she commanded.
“As you wish.” He continued to push the underwear down until it slid down his

legs. He kicked the briefs away from his feet.

Margrett Dawson

106

Jane’s pulse raced even faster as she stared at him. His cock was long and thick,

even in its half-aroused state. Reaching out, she took him in her hand, letting her fingers

float teasingly down the length of the shaft. At once she felt him begin to harden. Her

hand slipped lower, cupping the sac holding his balls.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.
“Hey, that’s my line.”
“This is going to be wonderful.” She gave his balls a gentle squeeze. “You’re

absolutely right that we need this time.”

“No talk of lawyers or of psychics, on pain of a severe beating.”
She felt a twitch in her pussy like a tiny electric shock. “Maybe I’ll mention them

just to see what you would do.”

“I’d smack that pretty bottom of yours ‘til it was pink and then—” He paused and

took the hand playing with him. “Just look what you’ve done.”

She glanced down and sucked in a breath. His penis was swollen, the tip pink and

dripping with pearly drops.

“I think we need a quick fuck to get ourselves in the mood.” Pierce took her hand.

“Then when our minds are clear we can plan the rest of the night.”

She let him lead her across the room to the luxurious bedroom. The same tree she’d

seen from the living room filled the window space with dappled shade. The leaves

rustled softly as the breeze strengthened momentarily because of the open door. The

dark blue silk of her mini robe fluttered around her thighs, showing a glimpse of her

mound. She ached deep inside and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

In a swift movement Pierce stripped off the cover and pulled back the top sheet.

Then he pushed her back onto the soft linen. The sheets were creamy white percale,

smooth and cool.

“Open for me,” he whispered and fastened his mouth to hers. He held her head and

covered her face with tiny kisses, dipping down to the space between her aching

breasts. She longed for his mouth and moved to brush one nipple against his lips. He

sucked on her breast and then moved to lave the other with his tongue. She moaned in

pleasure. At the same time she felt him nudge her legs apart with an insistent knee. She

spread herself further, making herself wide open for him. He filled her with one smooth

thrust.

“Oh God!” she cried out and he gave a few more hard strokes, pushing deep inside

her.

The delicious tingle had already started deep in her pussy and she couldn’t hold it

in. It spread like a burning flame, consuming her, making her build to a climax at the

same time as Pierce exploded inside her.

“That was wonderful,” she whispered as soon as she could draw enough breath to

speak.

Jane’s Prize

107

His weight was still on her and she realized he hadn’t withdrawn. His cock was still

rammed inside her and she felt it throb against her sensitive skin.

“That was just a little hors d’oeuvre. We’ll build up to the main course.”
Still buried within her, he raised his torso and leaned forward to suckle her breasts

again. His mouth closed on one nipple, the one he had merely licked before, and he

sucked hard. She bucked under him and gave an involuntary gasp. Shards of fire

streaked out and down from her tortured nipple, snaking past her abdomen right to her

pussy. Her nether lips were running with moisture, both hers and his.

His lips moved to the other nipple. The first one still tingled and throbbed.
His thick penis filled her but he refused to move to stroke her inside. She arched,

willing him to thrust harder. “I’m ready again,” she said.

“Are you, indeed? But I’m not ready to give it to you yet.”
He bit her nipple sharply, seeming to know that the tingle had begun to die. He

smiled at the quiver he provoked.

His mouth claimed hers again and then kissed her eyes, her ears, her throat. All the

time his penis was swelling, filling her more, driving her wild but he remained still, not

allowing her the pleasure of his movement.

In desperation she wrapped her legs around his waist, driving him deeper into her

hot wetness.

She had the satisfaction of hearing him groan as his cock was forced more deeply

into her and at last he began to move inside her.

“I love it when you can’t wait for it. This is just the beginning. I have some things

planned for you tonight that you’re going to love.” He rose up on his elbows and

pumped and thrust more strongly, watching her face. She bit her lip and closed her

eyes. Her mouth opened to let out a cry and she felt the quiver grow stronger deep in

her body.

“Come on, my love. This just for you.” He lowered himself onto her and thrust his

tongue into her mouth, sliding it in and out, simulating what he was doing to her cunt.

“Let go just once more.”

Each thrust seemed to be harder and longer. She was ready to combust. The spasms

swelled, growing in intensity, rocking every inch of her until she could hold it in no

longer and she opened her mouth to let out an animal shriek of pleasure.

She lay motionless, gathering herself together. Pierce rolled to one side and

smoothed the silk robe over her. His hand lingered over the curls between her thighs.

“I’ll cover it up until I want it again or it wants me, whichever comes first.”

She smiled at him. Her head felt muzzy and her eyes wanted to close. “You’ve

exhausted me.”

“Then we’ll have to revive you. There’s more where that came from.”
“If I have the strength.”

Margrett Dawson

108

“You’d be surprised at what you can do. You have nothing to think about for the

next few hours but making love with me. And a couple of meals of course.”

She burst out laughing. And stretched her arms around his neck. “I do love you,”

she said. “And I believe you.”

“You’d better. Are you ready for a shower? That will wake you up.”
“Only if it’s stone cold. No, I don’t mean that.” She sat up “I’ll set the temperature.”
She rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom.

Jane’s Prize

109

Chapter Sixteen

The bathroom was large and luxurious. She had already noted the deep tub, a

gleaming marble rectangle set into the floor in front of the window. Two or three steps

led invitingly down into where the water would lap gently against the sides. Bottles of

crystals and oils stood on a small glass shelf to one side. Gardenia, lavender, almond

invited her with tempting labels. Later, she told herself. Later she would indulge in

warm, scented water with Pierce. At the moment, she needed a shower, hot and hard

just like the sex she’d just enjoyed.

Pierce’s hands were on her shoulders as he steered her to the glass-fronted shower

in the corner. The creamy tiles glistened. Fluffy white towels were piled on a stool. She

stepped inside and he turned on the water. Jets sprayed from different angles, catching

her neck, her shoulders, her waist and her knees. She closed her eyes and let herself

relax against the warm spouts.

Pierce’s hands were on her again, kneading the tense muscles in her neck. He must

have filled his palm with liquid soap, for next she felt him rubbing, sliding his slick

fingers over her shoulders and arms. His magic hands worked down her back and over

her bottom. Then he turned her to allow the spray to rinse her and began to stroke her

breasts, her waist and the tops of her thighs. The water rinsed the soap as he progressed

down her body.

At last she opened her eyes. Without a word she filled her hands with soap and

began to smooth it over his taut muscles. She let her hands follow the curve of his ass

and squeezed gently. “Very nice buns,” she said.

Then she soaped his penis and balls, letting her fingers linger in his pubic hair,

making a ring with her hand to caress his cock. It began to rise and harden with every

touch.

“I thought you were too tired,” he whispered against her mouth. “Be careful what

you start. I’ll expect you to finish.”

“You were right. The shower revived me.”
In response he reached down and pushed two fingers into her vagina, thumbing

her clitoris. Immediately she felt the rush of moisture from inside her bathing his hand.

“I think you do want it again. Tell me.”
“I want to do it again. Right here.”
He withdrew his fingers and placed his palms under her buttocks, lifting her until

her back touched the ivory wall tiles. “Put your legs around me.”

Margrett Dawson

110

He hooked his arms under her spread thighs and held her aloft for a long moment

while she anticipated what was to come. Then he slowly lowered her wide-open pussy

onto the steel shaft of his cock.

They let out a sigh in unison as his thickness settled deep within her. She tightened

her arms about his neck and her legs about his waist. He thrust hard and she gasped

under the flowing water.

“I’m coming already.”
“Let it come. We have all the time you need to do it again.”
“You?”
“Oh yes. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
She broke into a thousand pieces as he threw back his head and let out a long cry

that reverberated around the shower.

After, he wrapped her in one of warm, fluffy towels and led her into the bedroom.

“Just lie down and relax.” He smoothed the small frown line between her brows. “We’ll

forget all our problems and savor the moment.” He kissed her lips. “I’ll be back.”

Jane closed her eyes. Making love with him certainly put all other thoughts out of

her mind. She would try to believe he was right and that they could put their problems

to one side. She knew that deep down he was uneasy, even fearful, about being sent

back to the world of ghosts. She wouldn’t even begin to imagine what her life would be

like without him.

A few short weeks before, she had acted entirely out of character and made wild,

uninhibited love with a stranger. Had she really believed he was a ghost brought back

to life? She couldn’t honestly say but she’d welcomed him into her bed and into her life.

She remembered a friend of her mother’s who had met her husband on vacation and

married him three weeks later. Everyone had said they were crazy and had made dire

predictions about how long the marriage would last. The couple was still together after

thirty years and three children and still obviously in love. She smiled. She’d like that

kind of future with Pierce.

She heard the chink of glass against the tiles around the hot tub. She sighed,

snuggling down into the soft bed, and her mind drifted, forming future fantasies…

She opened her eyes when she felt the bed move under Pierce’s weight.
“Keep them closed,” he said. “No need to look. Just feel.”
He moved the damp towel from over her and a shiver rippled over her cool flesh.

She felt his warm hands slide smoothly down her body and a delicious scent of

almonds filled the air. His palms were slick with oil from one of the glass containers she

had admired.

His hands returned to her breasts. “I love your nipples,” he whispered. He flicked

one and it rose obediently into a bud. He kneaded the soft flesh for another moment

and then moved to her belly. Arousal snaked through her in response to the firm caress.

Jane’s Prize

111

Before she had time to think more, he cupped his hand between her thighs, playing

gently with her labia, rubbing more oil onto her sensitive flesh with a light touch. She

felt his finger slip inside her and he began to rub her clitoris with his thumb. She

squirmed beside him as the pleasure mounted. She purred with pleasure.

To her dismay he took his hand away just as she was about to reach orgasm. “No,”

she moaned.

“Be patient. Turn over.” Pierce flipped her over onto her stomach, replenished the

small pool of oil in his palm and rubbed her shoulders, eliminating knots with a skillful

touch. Her body felt boneless as she sank deeper into the towel.

“Where did you learn to do this?” she murmured.
“Just good instincts. Knowing what feels good.”
“It feels wonderful.”
His fingers trailed down to her buttocks and he began to massage, letting his hand

creep into the crack between her cheeks. One finger rubbed her anus. She tensed.

“Do you remember what I said to you when we first met?”
“You said I was too tight and you’d make me ready for it another time.”
“So you’ve thought about it?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Is it nearly time?”
“If you think so.”
His oily finger pushed a fraction into her ass. She gasped. His other hand wiggled

under her to rest on her wet pussy. The sensation was incredible. She relaxed her tight

muscles.

“That’s right.” He bent to kiss the nape of her neck, his movements echoed in his

touch between her legs. “But that’s enough for now. To be continued.”

She raised her head. “You can’t leave me like this.”
“Like what? “ He raised an eyebrow. “Naked and begging?” He slid from the bed

and slapped her behind. “I’m going to find you a good dinner, feed you some excellent

wine and remind you every few seconds that you are desperate for me to fuck you.

We’ll go to see this psychic expert then we’ll come back here and I’ll do it.” His hand

curved over one cheek of her ass. “This is so tempting,” he said. “But I’ll wait.” He

smacked her again, then stroked the tingling area. She groaned in pleasure. “Told you

you’d like it, my love. Come now, up you get.”

They found a quiet restaurant on a side street in the old town and ordered a simple

meal with a half bottle of wine.

“We have to keep a clear head for this person,” Pierce said as he shared the last

between two glasses.

“Selma.”

Margrett Dawson

112

“Selma it is.” He raised his glass in a toast. “May she have all the answers.”
Jane was still wet with anticipation and he constantly touched her hand, rubbed his

foot against her leg, kept his eyes on her as she ate, heightening the tension that

twanged and quivered through her body. Her head might be clear of wine but her brain

was addled with thoughts of making love.

She pulled in a deep breath, let it out and took a long draft of ice water to soothe her

roiling thoughts. She forced herself to remember the most embarrassing moment in her

teaching career and her mind slowly began to settle.

They paid the bill at nine thirty. Dusk had dimmed the sky as streaks of red and

gold marked where the sun hung low above the horizon. Street lighting had come on,

casting shadows on the path.

Jane fished in her purse for her car keys. “I looked at the map before we set off,” she

said. “It’s not hard to find.”

She followed the streets out of town and turned on to a country road with no

sidewalks. “This might be as spooky as your house,” she said. “I wonder if she’s one of

those New Age people who eat macrobiotic diets and wear natural fibers. Maybe she

has cats, or keeps chickens.” She heard the nervous tone in her own voice. She was

beginning to blabber.

“You’re going to have to explain some of that language later.”
“Sure.”
Away from the town lights, the surroundings seemed much darker and she peered

through the windshield to try to see house numbers.

“I’m looking for 3825. I think the odd numbers are on your side.”
“3809,” Pierce murmured. “3811, 13, 17, 21… Should be the next…”
Sure enough, a sign swung close to the road, announcing 3835. Jane pulled in to the

driveway and sat stunned at the sight before her. The house was a geodesic dome

reminiscent of Fuller’s work. Like an orange cut in half, it stood on an immense, flat

block with every inch of the rooms inside entirely visible. All glass with metal

supporting struts, it blazed with light. A circular insert like the core of an apple

occupied the central area, presumably concealing a bathroom. She had expected a small,

cozy cottage. Would not have been surprised by a modern rancher. But this spaceship

left her speechless. Selma Thaddeus must be a very interesting woman.

As she switched off the engine, a door swung open near the base of the dome and a

figure appeared.

Forget the handwoven shawls, Jane said to herself. This woman was dressed in an

elegant silk gown of dark metallic gray with a high collar that framed her face and

clung to her long limbs. Jane heard Pierce suck in an appreciative breath and she gave

him a nudge.

She stepped forward, her hand outstretched. “I’m Jane Chartraine. This is my friend

Pierce Newland.”

Jane’s Prize

113

“Selma Thaddeus. Please come in.” She stood to one side and Jane saw more of her

features as she came into the light. The youthful figure contrasted with Selma’s silver-

gray hair, piled on her head, showing her classic bone structure. Her eyes were a very

dark blue, her skin fair and virtually unlined.

“I think you were surprised by my house.”
“It is very unusual.” Jane looked around. They were obviously in the living area of

the dome. Scattered rugs in muted colors lay haphazardly on the wooden floor and two

or three groupings of comfortable chairs filled the space. Every flat surface seemed to

carry a vase of flowers. Their scents wafted gently into the cool air.

“I love the light,” said their hostess and she motioned them to take seats. Jane

settled next to Pierce on a wide couch. Selma took a single chair opposite and sat

perfectly still, waiting.

Jane cleared her throat. “I’m not sure where to begin.”
“At the beginning and go to the end.” Selma’s mouth curved in a gentle smile. “I

will offer you some refreshment after we have talked. I don’t want anything to distract

your concentration or mine. Please,” she gestured for Jane to continue. A diamond ring

gleamed on her right hand.

Jane took a deep breath. Heaven knows she had gone over the scenario enough

times in her mind. “I have a friend, “she began, “who has come across some strange

phenomena. He was told that a ghost can be brought back into the world of the living

by a touch from a person.” She hesitated.

“Go on.”
“So what we—he—is wondering is if someone brought back this way will live a

normal lifespan, and if he or she can be sent back in any way to the dead.” She

swallowed.

“Does this ghost want to go back?”
Jane pleated the hem of her shirt. “No, not at all. But we think this ghost was

murdered in his first life and that the murderer might be able to follow him into the

present day. If that can happen, could the murderer kill him again?”

She sat back against the soft cushions. She felt lighter, somehow, as if a burden had

been lifted.

Selma remained silent, her brow furrowed. “Well,” she said at last, “this is quite

unusual.” She shook her head and the heavy weight descended again on Jane’s

shoulders. Beside her, she could feel the tension in Pierce’s body.

“I had a feeling this was too strange to be documented anywhere…” she began and

prepared to rise.

“No, no. Please stay where you are. I didn’t say it was unheard of, just unusual. I

think I remember a case rather like that. Excuse me a moment.” Selma rose to her feet in

a graceful gesture. “I have to check something in my library. There is herbal tea in the

Thermos on the table. I’m afraid I don’t have black tea or coffee. Please help yourselves,

Margrett Dawson

114

I won’t be long.” With that she glided out of the living area and seemed to be heading

for somewhere on the other side of the house.

Pierce got to his feet and paced to the window. “Do you think she really knows

something that will help?”

Jane nodded and moved toward the small oak table where a stainless steel

container sat next to delicate bone china cups. “I do. I think she knows what she’s

doing. I have that impression anyway. Do you want tea?”

“Sure. Anything.”
Pierce paced again between the couch and the window. Jane poured two cups of

fragrant tea and handed him one. She remained beside him staring out at the bushes

that surrounded the property.

“An amazing house,” she said after taking a sip of tea.
Pierce only grunted in reply.
“What’s wrong?”
Pierce shook his head. “Nothing. I guess it’s just the whole atmosphere here.” He

gestured to the wall of windows and the chrome and steel fittings. “I’ve never seen

anything quite like it. I feel even more a fish out of water than usual.”

Jane laughed. “Well, it’s certainly a goldfish bowl. There don’t seem to be any

neighbors.” She bent forward slightly to peer into the darkness outside. “You know,”

she said. “Somehow I expected this meeting to creep me out but only because I thought

we might be somewhere spooky. But all this light is somehow more—”

They both turned as Selma spoke from behind them. “I think I’ve found

something.” She held a piece of paper in one hand.

How long had she been there? What did it matter anyway if she’d heard what Jane

had said?

“Can I give you a refill on your tea?”
“No, thank you.” Jane replied quickly while Pierce just shook his head in refusal.
“Then let’s sit down again.” Selma glided to the seat she had chosen before, leaving

Jane and Pierce on the couch once more.

Selma smoothed her silk skirt over her legs and glanced at the document she held.

“I printed this from an old account I came across a few years ago,” she began. “It seems

to support what you are saying about a ghost being able to return to the world by

touching someone.”

“My goodness. My friend will be amazed.” Jane smiled. “But why don’t most

people know this?”

Selma shot her a quick glance. “Most people don’t believe in ghosts in the first

place, my dear. It would not occur to them that it’s a possibility.”

She stood and moved toward the window. The lamps cast a bright halo around her

dress and her hair so she shone like a silver figurine.

Jane’s Prize

115

“But if a ghost comes back,” she continued in her soft, deep voice, “it’s mostly

deliberate and, if they are successful, they would not want to be known.”

“You mean they have a compelling reason to want to return and then hide who

they are?”

“Oh, yes.” Selma turned to face them, the silk of her robe making a soft whisper as

it settled again around her legs. “There is always a compelling reason. And they always

hide.”

Jane swallowed against a dry throat. “A reason like wanting to kill someone

again?”

“Maybe. Revenge is a powerful motive. Just because someone is dead, doesn’t mean

they lose the impulses that drove them in life.”

Jane wanted to be sure she understood. “So maybe my friend has seen the ghost of

a murdered person and the murderer could come back and kill again?”

Selma resumed her seat. “It’s possible. But there are many reasons why one might

want to return. Love is as powerful as hate you know.”

“But if this is true then all kinds of ghosts might have returned and be living among

us.”

“There might indeed, but as far as my research and experience has shown there has

to be a bond of some kind, either present or future, between the ghost and the person

who releases him. Or her.”

“A bond?”
“Some link that forms a continuity.”
“So if my friend were to help the first ghost hide his identity to be able to live in this

world, a friend of his might provide a link for the murderer to return?”

“Hmm. It’s possible. If there were a close friendship.”
Annice was her good friend. She may have brought back the stepmother.
“But that makes it difficult to protect yourself. The murderer might appear at any

moment.”

“Yes indeed. But why don’t you confront the supposed murderer and find out what

he or she wants?”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Maybe. But so is doing nothing.”
“Is it possible to send the murderer back to the dead?”
“Only by killing them again.”
Pierce stirred on the couch and spoke for the first time. “When did you come back?”

he said.

Margrett Dawson

116

Chapter Seventeen

Selma fixed Pierce with a thoughtful gaze. The silence lasted a long heartbeat. “You

are the friend in question?” Selma asked.

Before Pierce could answer, Jane replied. “Yes.” She wasn’t sure what exactly was

going on but she had the sense that Selma would see through any prevarication.

“And he has come back to the living world?”
“I touched him when he appeared in his old house. It’s a long story.”
“It usually is.” Selma gave her a knowing, secretive smile. She looked at Pierce.

“How did you know about me? Was it a lucky guess?”

“Call it extra sensory perception.” Jane was startled by the harsh note of his voice.
“Oh dear. You’re angry.”
“I’m pissed off. Maybe this, maybe that. Maybe a murderer could come back,

maybe there’s bond strong enough to do it. Give us some answers goddammit. You’ve

been through it.”

“I have.” Selma took the few steps to the table with the tea and poured herself a

cup. She returned to her seat and settled against the cushions. “Since we are members of

the same club, so to speak, let me tell you my story.”

She took a sip from her steaming cup. Jane and Pierce waited.
“My husband and I were very much in love,” she began after a long pause. “It was

one of those whirlwind romances that sweep you away in a frenzy of passion. We met

and married within a few weeks.”

Another example, Jane thought.
“We had twenty years together, but unfortunately no children.” Selma said, “Then I

was drowned in a boating accident.” An expression of sadness clouded her features for

a brief moment. “I could only stay around the area where I died so I had to wait for my

poor John to find the courage to come back there. After a few years he did, and I was

waiting for him.”

Jane stared at Selma, fascinated, trying to picture the events she was describing. Her

husband would have known his wife, of course, so they had a better start than she and

Pierce. “Go on,” she breathed.

Selma shrugged. “There’s not much more to tell, except that we had ten more

happy years until my dear love died of cancer. It was fast, like everything else in our

lives. You see, when I died I was whole. That is, I had no debilitating disease. Those

who die from a physical ailment that destroys organs can’t come back or they would

resume their suffering and die again. So I will meet up with John again on the other side

Jane’s Prize

117

in the spirit world.” She paused. “You are probably wondering why more people don’t

do this?”

Jane nodded.
“There may be many more than we believe.” Selma finished her tea and placed the

cup on a side table. “But just think. Someone dies. There is mourning, a funeral, maybe

even a new marriage in the case of a husband and wife. Children remember the death

and the funeral. Then how could the dead person reintegrate into their old life? John

and I were lucky. We had plenty of money, few other family ties. We were able to move

right across the country. Start again in fact. We built this house because I hated the

darkness. I’d existed in it for too long. So there you have it.” Her hands moved in one of

her graceful gestures. “Now tell me yours.”

It took less than five minutes to fill in the details of their meeting and subsequent

difficulties in bringing Pierce fully into the modern world, although leaving out most of

the intensely sexual episodes. Jane had the feeling Selma knew about them anyway.

Selma listened intently until the end.
“So the woman who poisoned you has come back?” she said.
Jane and Pierce spoke together. “Yes, I think so.” “No, I’m not sure.”
“Well, Pierce would be the one who could say for sure if she is the one who killed

him. Let’s think about this. Why would she come back to kill you again?”

“Because she’s jealous and spiteful and hated me when she was alive.” Pierce was

bitter.

“Maybe so, but why would she want to kill you again?” Selma repeated. “There

would be no advantage to her.”

“Satisfaction in stopping me from inheriting the Newland estate.”
They then had to explain about the elderly cousin and the meeting with the lawyers

in Boston.

Selma nodded. “It could be a long-standing resentment, as you say. You can’t know

until you find her.”

“I never want to see her again.”
“I understand, but someone has to.”
“I’ll do it.” Jane sat straighter and put a hand on Pierce’s arm.
Pierce sprang to his feet. “Over my dead body!” He paused and grinned despite

himself when he realized what he’d said.

Jane rose to stand beside him and touched him gently. “We’ll talk about it,” she

said.

There didn’t seem to be much more to say.
Before they left Selma gave them her card. “You can call, fax or email any time,” she

said. “I’d be happy to help.” She held out her hand to Pierce who touched it briefly with

Margrett Dawson

118

his fingers. She turned to Jane. On an impulse Jane threw her arms around the older

woman. “Thank you for everything,” she said. “I’ll let you know how we do.”

In the car Jane focused her eyes on the darkness of the road ahead. “How did you

know about her?”

“Pierce shrugged. “Hard to say. I had the feeling that there was something a bit off.

You know, she wasn’t quite right in the setting. Once it occurred to me, everything

seemed to fit. I guess it was more a flash of intuition than anything.”

“A good one. Let’s hope you have the same kind of flash when we find the woman

again.”

They drove back to the hotel in silence. Jane drew into the courtyard where guests

parked their vehicles and switched off the engine. “We have to do something,” she said

at last. “You don’t need to be near her, in case she tries anything again.”

“If it is her I’m not afraid for myself.” Pierce took her hand. His fingers were icy

cold. “But I’m terrified of her harming you.”

“Let’s take one thing at a time. First the lawyers, second your cousin, third your

stepmother. If it is your stepmother I saw.”

“I guess.”
They got out of the car and made their way to the main entrance. Pierce slipped his

arm around Jane’s waist.

Once in the hotel room, Pierce took her gently in his arms. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and then felt the tears coming. She wiped at her eyes with one hand.
“Hey, no crying allowed.” He stroked the tear from her cheek. “Tell me.”
Jane pushed away from him. “I guess it’s all coming at me now.” She plunked

herself down on the bed. “The nights in the house, breaking the law to get you some ID,

keeping it all secret from my mom. And now we have to face a murderer.”

“We have to face a possible murderer. We don’t know it’s my stepmother. And even

if it is we don’t know she wants to kill again.”

“I know. But I still feel—threatened, besieged.”

He sat beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. “You wanted to take a hot bath. Let me run

the water for you. We’ll soak in it and then you can get a good night’s sleep.”

She grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and mopped her face. She tried

a smile. “Sounds good but—”

He pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her gently. “If you don’t want to

make love, I understand.”

Jane’s Prize

119

She hadn’t specifically thought about his promise to drive her wild with a night of

uninhibited lovemaking but now that he mentioned it, she felt an enormous relief.

Tonight she wanted to snuggle against him, warm and safe, and gather her thoughts.

She had to plan her course of action over the next few days, when she would try to find

the woman she believed to be a former ghost. But whatever she did she had to keep the

mysterious stranger away from Pierce until they could be sure she posed no threat to

him.

“Some people say that danger makes you want sex but in this case…” She let the

words trail off as Pierce began to undress her.

“It might be more than I can stand,” he said, “but tonight we’ll hold each other and

gather our strength. All right?”

“All right.”

The water in the hot tub was just right. The jets massaged her back and thighs in a

gentle rhythm. Pierce turned down the lights and opened the large windows. It was like

sitting out in the velvet night. The moon was a thin sliver in the sky, too young to cast

any light, but the muted glow from the street lamps allowed her to see the shape of the

trees around. A faint breeze made the leaves rustle.

She leaned back and let out a deep sigh. She could feel the water easing away the

kinks and knots in her body. A wave rose against her chest and she opened her eyes as

Pierce slid in beside her. She moved her hand over his knee.

“Seems like a wasted opportunity,” she said.
“Do you want to?”
“No. My head’s too full of ghosts and murderers and lawyers’ questions. You too?”
“I must admit I keep thinking about the interview tomorrow.”
“Then let’s just enjoy the water and the setting.” She closed her eyes again and let

herself drift.

They settled into bed spooned against each other. One of Pierce’s hands cupped her

breast and she could feel the pressure of his penis against her bottom. She closed her

eyes. If she could keep him safe they would have many nights together, some to make

love, some to cuddle, some maybe even to sleep apart, although she couldn’t imagine

that happening, ever.

From the beginning this had been a topsy-turvy affair. The usual pattern of a

relationship was friend, companion, lover, wasn’t it? She had leapt straight to the lover

stage and was now learning Pierce could also be her friend and companion. The more

she knew him the more she knew she couldn’t bear to lose him.

As she drifted, half asleep, the image of the woman she believed to be his

stepmother floated against her eyelids. She had been a pretty woman, in a Thirties film

star kind of way. How dangerous was she under the glamorous outer shell?

Margrett Dawson

120

The next day, in Boston, Jane waited in the car while Pierce attended the meeting

with the lawyers. She had not expected to sleep well but to her surprise had woken late

after a night of deep slumber. After breakfast they set off for Boston, arriving in good

time for the meeting. Now all she had to do was wait and think about the next step.

When they returned home she would look all over town for the woman she had

glimpsed a couple of times and engage her in conversation. Surely she could find a way

of testing her, finding out if she was really a person from ninety years ago.

A tap on the window startled her from her thoughts. Pierce motioned to her to

lower the glass.

“What is it?” He had been inside less than half an hour. Had they rejected his claim

out of hand?

He grinned widely. “They’re eating it up,” he said. “They want to meet you.”
Jane unclipped her seatbelt. “Me? Why?”
“I told them we were engaged to be married. I think they liked the idea that I’m not

a playboy and have a serious commitment. I guess they think it makes it more likely

that I’ll be responsible.”

“Sounds weird to me. Won’t the DNA be enough to convince them?”
“I guess, but they’ve been with the family for years. It’s more than a business

relationship. Let’s humor them.”

“Whatever you want.” Jane searched in her purse for a comb and hastily ran it

through her hair. Thank goodness she was wearing long pants and a pretty shirt,

although her feet were bare in strappy sandals. She might still be too casual for a high-

powered Boston lawyers’ office.

Pierce led her through a hushed entrance hall to an elevator that soared silently to

the top floor. As the doors opened a young man in an expensive suit stood ready to

greet them. He shook hands with Jane. “I’m happy to meet you. Thank you for agreeing

to be present. I’m Jason.” His eyes didn’t even flicker over her sportswear.

Pierce and Jane followed Jason along a paneled hallway. Small offices on the left

and right offered glimpses of young people hunched over computers, studying large

documents or conferring earnestly. There seemed to be an age limit on this kind of

work. Not one of them looked over thirty-five. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The reason for the youth of the worker bees became clear when Jason opened a

door at the end of the hall and ushered them into a large corner office. At first glance it

seemed that a crowd of senior partners of the firm were present, lined up, with sleek

gray hair and sleek gray suits, to introduce themselves and shake her hand. Her heart

sank. Surreptitiously she crossed her fingers, praying she wouldn’t blow it for Pierce.

In reality they were only five and the pecking order soon became apparent. The

senior partner took the chair at the head of the table, flanked by his four colleagues on

his left. Jane and Pierce took the seats opposite the tribunal. It felt a bit like the

Jane’s Prize

121

interview she’d had to go through for her college. What was she thinking? It was an

interview.

“Now, we are not going to keep you long,” the senior man began in a mellow voice.

“We have been in touch with Mr. Newland, Senior, and know he is quite convinced of

the authenticity of the claim. The DNA results confirm the relationship.”

The four suits nodded their agreement.
“So you may be wondering why we want to meet you.” The first man on the

chairman’s left spoke up.

Before Jane or Pierce could answer the lawyer next to him continued, “We are an

old and prestigious firm and we serve wealthy clients all over the country. We pride

ourselves on our integrity and our discretion.” He paused but Jane could think of no

comment that would make any sense. Pierce remained silent.

The second man took up the thread. “We also like to deal with clients who are

discreet and ethical in their dealings.”

I bet, Jane said to herself. What they mean is any skeletons have to be well and truly

buried.

It was the turn of the third man in line. Had they rehearsed this smooth delivery?

More likely they had done it many times before. “So any skeletons we should know of

are best laid out before us now.” Jane shot him a glance. Had he been reading her

mind? The man gazed serenely at them. She’d been in the world of the paranormal too

long.

She cleared her throat. “What kind of skeletons are we talking about?”
The last man spoke. “We’d like to know if you’ve been married before, if you have

children or any other encumbrances.”

Jane bristled but held on to her cool. “I have never been married. I’m a teacher, a

professional educator. And even if I had any I wouldn’t consider children an

encumbrance.”

It was back to the man at the head of the table. “Please, Ms. Chartraine, we mean no

offense. But much of our business comes from litigation through divorce or separation

and the claims of children on the estate. We pass no moral judgments but we need to

know what kind of work our firm is likely to be called upon to do. It also has a bearing

on the recommendation we would be comfortable in making to Mr. Newland, Senior

regarding any rewording of his will. “

Pierce took Jane’s hand, lying on the table. “Neither of us has been married before.

Neither of us has children. We are excited to begin our life together with the approval of

my cousin Alex. I assure you we will bring no disgrace to the family name, nor will we

cause the family undue expenditures for lawsuits of any kind.”

“I’m happy to hear it. Then Ms. Chartraine will not object to the prenuptial

agreement we have drawn up.”

Jane sucked in her breath. That’s what this was all about.

Margrett Dawson

122

Pierce rose to his feet and since he was still holding her hand, she stood alongside

him. “We’ll take a copy of the document,” he said. “And if it suits us we’ll sign it. But I

tend to think that my fiancée and I will not require any such document.”

Jane squeezed his fingers. Pierce took the papers the lawyer held out to him.
“Read it through,” the man said. “If I told you how many people have vowed to us

that they would never need a pre-nup, then spent half their income fighting a messy

divorce, you might be more inclined to agree to it. You will inherit a large estate with

considerable cash and valuable property, Mr. Newland. Think about it.”

“We will,” Pierce replied, with emphasis on the “we”. “Thank you for your time

and your concern.” He released Jane’s hand to shake hands all ‘round then together

they left the room.

In the elevator Jane leaned back against the wall. “They might be right, you know.”
“How so?”
“I might be just marrying you for your fortune and as soon as I can I’ll be off with

half of it.”

Pierce stepped toward her and took her in his arms. “I’ll make it my life’s work to

keep you happy,” he whispered against her neck. “I’ll never give you a reason to want

to leave me.”

Jane sighed. “As soon as one obstacle falls there seems to be another. We’ve

overcome the identity, your cousin, the lawyers. Now we have to tackle your

stepmother.”

Jane’s Prize

123

Chapter Eighteen

They spent a couple more nights in Boston, where Pierce exclaimed over all the

changes in the last ninety-odd years. Finally they made their way home, fighting the

tourist crowds along the way.

Jane put the key in the lock of their own front door with a sigh of relief. Inside, she

dumped her bag in the hallway and closed the door after Pierce, shutting out the rest of

the world.

“Next on our list is to get you a driver’s license,” she said, pushing her damp hair

away from her forehead.

“Next on our list is a cold drink and a shower.” Pierce headed for the kitchen. Jane

heard the fridge door open and water running.

Pierce brought her a glass brimming with ice and lemon. “Thanks.” She sipped

gratefully and walked to the window, stretching out her stiff shoulders.

“Pierce! There she is!”
“Who?”
She instinctively took a quick step back from the window. “The woman,” she

whispered, although she had no idea why she lowered her voice. There was no way the

woman could hear through the glass but Jane’s heart was thumping away like a mad

thing and she had to fight the instinct to duck and hide.

The woman stood in front of the small apartment building and appeared to be

scanning the windows.

“Look at her! Is it your stepmother?”
Pierce came close behind her. She felt the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, warm, solid and reassuring.

The blonde woman wore a flowing dress in a gauzy apricot material. Her hair was

neatly curled and Jane could see the red slash of her lipstick even from the third floor.

Oversized dark glasses shielded her eyes.

The sun was strong and the woman stood directly in the light. Her image was

burning onto Jane’s eyes. She thought of Selma Thaddeus and her dread of the dark and

waited while Pierce peered through the window.

At last Pierce let out a sigh. “I think it could be. Or her double.”
“Let’s talk to her.” She whirled around but Pierce held on to her tight.
“What are you going to say?”
“I have no idea but I’ll think of something. We need to get this settled one way or

another.” She shrugged free of his hold and put her glass down on a side table. She

Margrett Dawson

124

pulled down her wrinkled T-shirt and wriggled her toes deeper into her sandals.

“What’s her name? You never told me her name.”

“Maria Teresa.”
“Maria Teresa Newland? Polish, right?”
“Yes, but her English was excellent.”
“I remember.” She did recall the sultry voice from the ghostly reenactment of the

murder. There had been the faintest trace of an accent. She turned.

“Look,” Pierce followed her out the door. “I don’t think this is—”
Jane wasn’t listening. She had had enough of the wondering and worrying. The

woman was on a busy street in full daylight. What could she do?

“Stay here. I don’t want her anywhere near you until we’re sure she won’t harm

you.” Without waiting for a reply Jane clattered down the stairs, too impatient to call

for the cranky elevator. She burst through the doors of the apartment building just as

the woman turned away.

“Wait! Mrs. Newland! Maria!” For a moment Jane thought the stranger would

continue walking away but she wheeled to face her. Jane drew in a deep, deep breath

and willed her hands to stop shaking.

“Yes?”
Jane took a tentative step forward. “It is you? Maria Teresa Newland?”
The woman remained still as a statue. Her porcelain skin and perfect makeup gave

her the air of a dressmaker’s model. “Who would like to know?”

There! There it was, that lilt of an accent.
Jane swallowed. “My name is Jane Chartraine. I was in the house when Pierce—”

What did one say? Came back from the dead? She let the sentence remain unfinished. If

this were Maria she would know what was meant. “You do know Pierce?”

A slow smile curved her ruby lips. “I know Pierce. How is he?”
“He’s well. Thank you.”
This was incredible, standing on the street in full summer talking to a former ghost.

Jane forced herself to believe it. After all, it wasn’t any more mystifying than most of the

other things that had happened since she’d agreed to spend two nights in the Newland

house.

“How did you come back?”
“I copied my stepson. I touched someone.”
“My friend Annice.”
“No.” She smoothed her dress. “It was a young policeman who came around to

check the house.”

“You mean Pete Burrard?”
“That’s right.”

Jane’s Prize

125

“Does he know you’re here?”
“Of course. When you bring someone back you’re responsible for them. But he

doesn’t really believe I’m a ghost. He thinks I was looking over the house at the same

time as he was doing his rounds. He was happy to help me.”

Jane’s mind boggled at the idea of Pete confronting this woman as she

rematerialized. Doubtless she was cunning enough to have him satisfy her every whim

and believe everything she told him. A few drops of sweat beaded Jane’s forehead and

she brushed at them with the tips of her fingers. She had enough worries of her own

without bothering to wonder how Maria was managing in the new world.

“Pete has given me almost all I need but there is one thing I need to do.”
“What?” Kill Pierce? Send him back to the world of shadows? He had spoken of

being in a deep sleep like a coma. Selma had talked of the darkness. Suddenly Jane was

cold.

Maria was watching her closely. “Do not worry. I will not harm him.”
She was a mind reader too?
“Can we go somewhere to talk? I need your help.”
She placed a slender hand on Jane’s arm. Her fingers were cool and Jane

suppressed a shiver. She glanced around. It was full daylight, an ordinary street in an

ordinary town on an ordinary day. There was nothing to fear. “There’s a park at the end

of the street. We can talk there.”

“I know it. You can tell my stepson it is safe to come out now.”
Pierce was already striding down the walkway to reach Jane’s side. He took her

hand and pulled her close. “What is it you want, Maria?”

“We can talk in the park.”
Maria turned in a swirl of apricot chiffon and led the way down the street.

Jane and Pierce followed Maria’s tapping heels to the small park on the corner of

the street. A young woman was pushing a toddler on one of the swings but the

climbing frame was empty. Maria made her way to a bench under a large shade tree.

She had never looked back once, confident that her companions would follow. At the

bench she turned to face them. “We’ll sit here.”

Jane placed herself as unobtrusively as possible in front of Pierce, holding his

fingers behind her back, still laced in hers. If Maria was dangerous she would have to

climb over Jane first before she got to Pierce. “We’ll stand.” She felt safer on her feet.

“Just as you wish.” Maria settled herself on the bench like a queen holding court.

The dappled light played over her face and hair.

“Tell me what you want.” Pierce took a step forward but Jane held tight to his hand,

keeping him out of his stepmother’s reach.

Margrett Dawson

126

“My, my, such vehemence.” Maria’s red lips sketched a smile that did not reach her

eyes. “I see you are as impatient as ever.” She looked at Jane. “He always was such an

impetuous boy. Did he tell you about the time—”

“We’re not interested in that. Get on with the reason you’re here.” Pierce moved a

small step forward again and Jane hung on to him, feeling the tension through his hand

and arm.

“Very well. First I want to say that I’m sorry I poisoned you, Pierce. It was a foolish

thing to do. Your father never recovered from your loss and my life was miserable for

the next few years.”

“I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“No, of course not. I brought it on myself. I realize that. But I did it for my son.

What I didn’t know was that he would die of influenza in such a short time. I died too,

and because of my crime we were linked together for eternity.” Her eyes glittered but

Jane could not tell if real tears beaded her lashes. “Death is a great equalizer.”

“Enough of the schmaltzy philosophy.” Pierce’s harsh tone cut into the moment of

silence. “You have some kind of agenda here and we want to know what it is.”

“Does it involve Pierce?” Jane hoped a few pertinent questions would move things

along.

“No, I don’t think I can use Pierce.”
Use?
“I think it is Jane I need.”
“Forget it. You’re not going to involve Jane in any scheme you’ve dreamed up.”
Jane laid her free hand on Pierce’s arm. “Let’s just hear what she wants.”
“Thank you.” Maria’s signature half smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I assure

you it’s not dangerous.”

“Go on.”
Jane saw Maria take a deep breath. She smoothed her hair with one hand and her

fingers showed a slight tremor. Beneath the hard façade there was a real emotion.

“I told you I committed my crime for my son.”
Jane nodded. “But he died. We know all that.”
Maria stood. “I want to bring him back.”
Jane stood speechless. Of all the reasons for Maria returning to earth, she had not

thought of this one.

Maria stepped closer and Jane pulled Pierce tighter behind her. “Don’t be afraid. I

know you have no good reason to trust me but I beg you to believe me. I want to bring

my Stanislaus back to life and enjoy a few more years with him. I want to see him grow

up and marry and have children.”

“And why exactly should we help you?” Pierce shot back at her. “I must have

missed something here.”

Jane’s Prize

127

“You will help me, or rather Jane will do so, just out of the goodness of her heart.

She has a good heart. You, Pierce, know what it is like to be trapped between worlds.

Think of my boy, eternally linked to a mother who cannot move fully into the afterlife

because of what she did. Think of him waiting out the centuries with no mother, no

brothers and sisters, no close family.” Real tears now glittered in her eyes. “I beg you to

help me. I swear I will not ask anything else from you. You will never hear from me

again once my son is back in my arms.”

Selma had been right when she said you had to find out what a ghost wanted.
“But how could I do that even if I wanted to?” Jane felt Pierce’s hand tighten

around her fingers. “He has moved much further on than you or Pierce.”

“No, he hasn’t. I found out later that my boy was a witness to Pierce’s death—”
“Murder!” Pierce interjected.
Maria’s chin lifted. “Murder, I admit it. He was hiding in the room, in one of the big

sideboards, so he has been part of the reenactment ever since, even though no one ever

saw him. Now both Pierce and I have gone and he’s alone, completely alone. Every

night he must hide in that cold, dark room and wait for a murder scene that never

happens.” Maria stretched out her hand to clutch Jane’s arm. This time Jane did not

flinch. “Please help me. If you do it and I’m reunited with little Stan I’ll leave. I’ll never

ask for anything from you.”

“Wait here.” Pierce pulled Jane away by the hand and took the dozen steps to the

climbing frame. A young mother with the toddler gave them a questioning glance,

looking from Maria back to Jane and Pierce. Maybe a complete stranger could feel the

tension crackling in the air.

Pierce turned Jane so her back was to Maria but he kept his eyes constantly on his

stepmother.

“We can’t do it,” he said.
“Why not?”
“It’s too risky. We have no idea what she’s really after. Maybe she wants to take

you from me.”

“She can’t very well do that. It’s more likely she’d send you back there. But I don’t

think she will. What she says makes sense. I know I’d bring a child back to my side if

he’d died and I had half a chance to let him live again.”

Pierce shook his head. “I don’t trust her.”
“So, what could we do to make it foolproof? So we can help her and protect

ourselves at the same time?”

Pierce rubbed one hand over his face. “We could talk to Pete Burrard. Tell him the

story.”

Jane gave a short laugh. “Fat chance he’d believe any of it.” She thought for a

moment. “We could call Selma and get her advice.”

Silence hung between them for a long beat.

Margrett Dawson

128

“Maria’s lonely. She’s back in the world but part of her is missing. She has nothing

to gain by harming you except a long-awaited and by now imaginary vengeance. She

can’t claim any of your inheritance. She has no legal link to you anymore. We have the

possibility of condemning her to a bleak, loveless existence full of remorse and longing.

Do you want to do that?”

Pierce shook his head. “She wouldn’t be loveless for long.”
“Maybe not, but she wants her child more than she wants anyone else. I think I’m

willing to do it, provided Selma says it’s okay.”

They walked back to where Maria sat, watching the child on the swing.
She looked up as they approached. “When I was young,” she said, “I had a hard

heart. I could never understand the bond between mother and child. To me it was all a

myth created to keep women in servitude to a man, to a family. I was egocentric and

selfish. But when I held Stan in my arms and watched him grow up I began to

comprehend. When he got sick and died I thought my heart would break. Can you

imagine what it has been like for nearly a century, knowing he was crouched inside the

cupboard of that sideboard and never able to see him or touch him or tell him his

mother still loved him?”

“We’re going to make one phone call,” Jane said. “And if all seems well, I’ll do it for

you.”

Jane’s Prize

129

Chapter Nineteen

“Will you take me with you to your house while you make the call?” Maria dabbed

at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “I’m so sure you will help me…”

“I suppose—” Jane began.
“No.” Pierce’s tone brooked no argument. He put an arm ‘round Jane’s waist.

“We’ll do whatever we do alone.” He spun on his heel and Jane had to trot with him,

heading back to their building.

Jane punched the button for the elevator. “You don’t believe her.” Through the

glass of the entrance doors she could see the tops of the trees that bordered the park and

blocked her view of the young mother, the toddler on the swings and Maria. Maybe

Maria hadn’t remained in the park, staring after them with a piteous expression.

“Not one word.” Pierce stepped aside to let an elderly couple exit from the elevator.
“But she was weeping about her boy.” The elevator began its ascent.
“Weeping about herself, more like it. She hasn’t an unselfish bone in her body. She

sees a chance to start life again and she means to grab it. Plus maybe some of the estate.

It’s all about her.”

Jane shook her head as she put the key in the lock of their apartment and closed the

door behind them. The small flat was a sanctuary, all theirs. No one else had stayed

there since they moved in. It held all the memories of their time together.

Pierce sank heavily onto the couch and rubbed his hands through his hair, making

it stand up in spikes. “Can I come to your house?” He mimicked Maria’s soft voice. “No

fucking way! If I never see her again it’ll be too soon.”

Jane sat beside him and smoothed a wayward lock over his forehead. She couldn’t

imagine what it must be like to meet your murderer in flesh and blood. She supposed

Pierce was handling it well, all things considered. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“It wasn’t you, it was her.” Pierce patted her hand. “God, I hate that woman.”
“So, what are we going to do? Do you think she’ll go away if we ignore her?”
“No. I think she’ll hang around and worm her way into our lives until she gets

what she wants.” He sprang to his feet and paced in the small space behind the couch.

“Depending on what it is she truly wants. She always was a devious, lying bitch.”

“But if the boy is in the house…” Jane twisted around to see him. “Sit down, you’re

giving me a crick in my neck.”

Pierce sat on the edge of the cushions. “Hell, I don’t know. It wouldn’t surprise me

if she made it all up. I never had a hint that little Stan was there and God knows we re-

enacted enough times over the years.”

Margrett Dawson

130

“But if it’s a true replaying of the scene and you didn’t know he was there the first

time—”

“Even if he was there…” Pierce turned toward her and took her in his arms. “Even

if what she says is true, why do I owe her anything at all? She murdered me,

remember? She cut short my life…”

Jane stroked his clenched jaw and kissed the deep line at the side of his mouth. “I

could still call Selma.” She kissed him again. “Just to ask her opinion. To make sure

what would be the best thing to do.”

“The best thing is to stay as far away from Maria as possible.”
“But if she’s here in the world and you think she won’t go away…”
He sighed. “I know. Make the call if it will put your mind at ease.”
“I’ll find the card she gave me.”
Three minutes later Jane replaced the receiver. “She’s not there. I didn’t want to

leave a message on the machine. I’ll try again later.”

She looked at Pierce, still sitting on the couch. In all the time she’d known him she’d

never seen him look so dejected. He had always been so confident, so full of life. Now a

frown creased the space between his eyes and his shoulders slumped.

“We’ll solve the problem,” she said softly.
He looked up. “Sure we will.” He reached for her with a smile and she reclaimed

her seat beside him.

“We can’t run and hide, or make her go away as far as we know,” she said. “So we

have to work at it. We have to find out the truth, make a plan, follow through.”

Jane and Pierce sat side by side, holding hands. She leaned into him, put her free

hand on his knee and dropped her head so it nestled against his jaw. She loved the

scent of his shirt, of his skin, loved the feel of strong muscles under her hand.

She felt his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. She turned her face to him

and pressed her lips to his. “We have some time to kill,” she whispered, “and you’ve

neglected me since we went to Boston.”

Pierce responded with a deeper kiss, his arms tightening ‘round her like a

drowning man clinging to his only hope of survival. Everything he knew about Maria

and her sly, treacherous ways pounded in his head like jungle drums, ominous,

threatening. What he had told Jane was true. His stepmother was a dangerous woman

as well as an obstinate one. Of course she wanted to stay in the modern world now she

had found a way to cross the barrier. Jane said they couldn’t send her away but he

wasn’t so sure it would be impossible. He just feared what they might have to do to rid

themselves of her presence.

He felt Jane’s fingers on the nape of his neck and suddenly he was hard, his breath

coming short and sharp. He was suffused with longing for her, filled with an insatiable

desire to possess her, to reaffirm his existence in the warmth of her flesh. He was real,

Jane’s Prize

131

he was flesh and blood. Alive, dammit, and not about to be deprived of what he had

found. A flicker of anger added a spark to the heat of his lust.

Still holding her, he rose to his feet and steered her to the bedroom. A memory of all

the times they had made love flashed through his mind like an erotic video. At first he

had wanted her because she was there, she was young and willing and he’d been

starved for sex. Then he had felt grateful for what she did for him and, as he grew to

know her, he began to love her openness, her acceptance of him, her courage. She was

loyal. She loved to laugh. And how many women would have faced the knowledge of

his situation with such fearlessness and determination? At first she’d had no idea that

there would be any material benefit from helping him. That had been a refreshing

change from the women he had known in his first life.

But now that Maria had found them he sensed that this amazing relationship they

had forged together was in danger. He knew they were moving into another phase, one

where their commitment to each other would be severely tested—and it scared him to

death.

Give him a business document or a column of figures and he could deal with them

swiftly and coolly. This was something else.

In the bedroom the drapes were closed against the glare of the sun. He stopped next

to the bed and relaxed his hold on her but kept his hands on her shoulders. His gaze

scanned her from head to toe. He pushed back her hair. There were summer freckles on

her nose and he kissed the tip with soft lips. Her skin was lightly tanned and he knew

that if he undressed her the honey color would shade to pearly white over her buttocks

and her breasts.

Her breath quickened as his fingers skimmed her shoulders. His hand flowed down

to her breasts and the nipples puckered, standing out against the fabric of her shirt.

Her tongue darted out and moved slowly over her lower lip, leaving a faint trace of

moisture. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, imagining her tongue sliding over the

tip of his throbbing cock.

While her eyes never left his face he undressed her slowly, deliberately delaying the

release of her breasts from the flimsy bra. When he removed it the beautiful globes

swung free but he did not touch them even though his fingers ached to encircle each

one.

When he opened the snap of her shorts, the fabric slid down her legs to pool at her

feet. At last she stood before him naked but for a dark green thong. He hooked his

thumbs in the side loops and pushed the last scrap of clothing down to the floor. As the

piece of light fabric traveled its downward path he heard her exhale a long breath.

Still she did not move. She stood gloriously naked before him, this woman who had

given him her friendship, her body, her assistance and her love. She was the woman of

all his dreams and he might lose her.

Margrett Dawson

132

“I don’t deserve you.” He pressed his lips to the throb of her pulse in her neck. She

placed her hands on his head and held him close. He breathed in the apricot perfume of

her skin.

“My turn,” she whispered, releasing him. If he had been slow and deliberate in

removing her clothes, she was quick and decisive. In a few seconds she had tugged the

shirt over his head, unsnapped his pants. She kicked the clothing away from their feet.

“We won’t need that for a while.”

Her voice was husky and a thin sheen of moisture beaded the delicious cleft

between her breasts. He reached for her but she pushed his arms away then smiled up

at him. Reaching down, she cradled his balls in her crooked fingers. His penis stood up,

hard and ready. She stepped one pace back and bent to seize the tip with her lips. He

felt her tongue linger on the sensitive head and he groaned aloud. In response she

sucked him in deep and he swayed on his feet.

“Oops.” She released him. “I love that,” she said, “but maybe you should lie

down.” She pushed him onto the bed. He had no power to resist even if he’d wanted to.

She stroked his cock and balls with light fingers. A tremor snaked through him. “I

love the feel of your cock, the texture, the satin feel. I love the taste of you.”

“You’ll kill me, woman,” he groaned.
“Never fear. No one died of this.” He pulsed in her hand and she licked the pearly

drops as they appeared.

He found a reserve of strength and took her again in his arms, lifting her then

lowering her on his body so her breasts were crushed against his chest.

“I love your sexy mouth,” he murmured, kissing her hard.
“I know and I love every bit of you.” She hesitated. “I want to do something—”
He raised his head from hers, unsure of what she meant. “What?”
“Something we’ve talked about but never done.” She wound her arms around his

neck and buried her face against his shoulder. “I wasn’t ready.” Her nails scraped just

below his ear and he tensed.

“Tell me.”
She let go her breath and raised her face to bring her lips to his. Her tongue probed

between his lips, entwining with his. His heart rate notched up, if that were possible.

His hands wandered down her body until they rested on the curve of her buttocks. His

fingers edged a fraction into the cleft between her cheeks.

He felt her legs move apart in response. “That’s it.” Her warm breath fluttered

against his cheek as she spoke.

“This.” His fingers inched a knuckle deeper into her cleft. He could hardly think,

his mind and body swept away by what he was doing to her.

“Yes, that. You told me you would do it that way one day. I’m ready.”
To be sure, he had said he would do her that way, back when he was arrogant,

much too sure of himself, and before he began to truly care. Then he had said it again

Jane’s Prize

133

before they went to see Selma. He had even touched her, told her that he would show

her, but he had never imagined she would take the lead. If it ever happened he had

supposed that he would cajole, move her slowly toward acceptance.

“You’ve never done it.” He knew the answer but he had to ask.
“Never. But it was exciting when you touched me. I think I would like more.”
“Tell me exactly what you mean.” This had the potential to destroy everything if he

was mistaken. He had to get it right.

“Oh for heaven’s sake! What’s not to understand?” Still lying on him, his hands

moving in and around the cheeks of her behind, she raised her head to look into his

eyes. Speaking slowly and clearly, she said, “I want you to fuck me in the ass.”

His throat went dry. He was positive she had never framed that sentence before in

her life. His balls tightened. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “You’re being deliberately obtuse. Read my lips. We’ve done

everything else together. Your fingers have even—been partway.” He saw a flush rise in

her cheeks. “If I’m ever going to do it I want it to be with you. And I think you want it.”

“If you do.” His heart thumped so loudly in his chest he thought she would hear it.

His cock made the decision for him. “I’ll do it right.”

“I know.” She smiled that smile that raised just the corners of her mouth and raised

his temperature to fever pitch. She reached for a condom in the bedside table. “Will you

need this?”

“Thank you.” He took it from her. “Then let’s do it.”
He grasped her hips and rolled her off him onto her back, propping himself on one

elbow. She gazed up at him, her blue eyes wide and trusting.

He let his fingers blaze a trail down the silk of her body, pausing over the white

patches of her breasts and groin. Then he followed the same path with his lips and his

tongue, licking and kissing as he went.

She quivered and her nipples stood up in twin peaks again. He circled one tip with

his tongue then took it between his lips, nuzzling until she gasped and her hips began

to lift in a slow rhythm.

He lavished more attention on her breasts until her hands found his and she tried to

move them lower. He manacled her wrists with one hand and held them while he

scooted down her body, pausing at her belly button, teasing it with his tongue. She

began to writhe and gasp aloud.

“You have to endure a bit more, my love.”
Releasing her hands, he slipped his forearms under her buttocks to lift her mound

to his mouth. Then he thrust his tongue between her pussy lips and began to lick and

suck, inhaling the sweet, musky aroma of her arousal.

“Pierce, please.” Her hips picked up the movement, dancing to a wild musical beat,

and her head rolled from side to side.

She was almost ready to explode.

Margrett Dawson

134

He sat back on his heels, his hands on her thighs. He touched her wet lips with his

thumbs, so lightly he could barely feel her. But she responded with a lift of her buttocks

and a sharp inhalation.

“Ready?”
She smiled at him. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I want you inside me when I

come.”

He lifted her and turned her on her knees, her forearms resting on the bed. Gently

he eased her legs apart and moved closer. She was completely open to him, her pussy

dripping warm, fragrant juices, the mounds of her ass cheeks inviting him into that

perfect, puckered hole.

He reached for the bottle of scented oil that stood on the bedside table and poured

some onto his fingertips. If he moved just an inch or so he could see the contours of her

breasts rising and falling with her breath. She turned her head over her left shoulder,

watching him in anticipation. He inserted one oiled finger into her anus and she moved

her hips higher.

She was so tight. He had to make her as ready as he was because he knew he

wouldn’t last one minute once he slid into that taut hole. His cock was on fire,

screaming for release. He probed deeper, sliding his finger inside her until it was buried

to the first knuckle. Her muscles tightened around it. He began to move it in and out so

she would grow used to the feel of it.

He reached around her to rub her clit with the thumb of his other hand. She

whimpered. “Yes, yes,” she moaned. “I love it. Don’t stop.”

Reassured, he pulled out his finger and quickly unrolled the condom and slid it on.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered. “Put your fingers where mine were. Make yourself

come while I fuck you.”

Obediently she moved so her hands could reach her clit, and he watched as she

rubbed and stroked.

“Now I’m coming in.” He placed the head of his penis against her asshole, working

it in gently until it slipped past the tight muscles. He heard her gasp as she took him

inside her. He stilled, waiting for her, afraid more movement would bring him to

climax.

“Aah,” she murmured. “So full, so full. More.” She began to move again, urging

him further in.

He entered her bit by bit until he was buried as deep as he could go. Her breath

came in gasps. Her hands were still on her pussy, moving and fingering her clit.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Perfect. Just fuck me.”
Her fingers moved faster on her clit and she squeezed her ass muscles, pulling him

even tighter against her.

Jane’s Prize

135

“My God, yes,” she screamed. In a blinding moment of intense erotic pleasure he

thrust harder and deeper as she tensed and lifted her head. “I’m coming, I’m coming,”

she panted. She let out a deep moan and then a howl as she came.

Pierce held on to her hips, pushing into her as hard as he could. When he could

hold back no longer he threw back his head and yelled in pleasure as he released.

After a long moment of hanging lifeless against her back he withdrew and slid

alongside her.

She rolled on to her side and faced him. He pushed back her damp hair from her

face.

“All right?”
“Absolutely. Do you think the neighbors heard us?”
“Who cares?” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead. His heart felt as

if it would explode with an emotion he would never be able to express. She had given

herself completely, made herself vulnerable. He had to let her know he understood the

value of her gift. “I love you.”

Words were so inadequate.

Margrett Dawson

136

Chapter Twenty

There was no denying their relationship had undergone a subtle change. Yes, the

sex was as hot as ever but it had lost the underlying sense of raw need and was now

permeated with a mutual aura of comfort and companionship. Facing uncertainty and

possible danger together had forged new bonds.

After Pierce’s declaration, they slept for a while then Jane made some sandwiches,

but neither of them had much appetite.

“Want to watch a horror movie?” Pierce asked as he loaded the dishwasher. He was

still fascinated by modern machines and always wanted to be the one to use them. That

suited Jane fine. “I think I can get that new Stephen King.”

“I don’t think so, thanks.” She yawned. “Don’t you think we’re in a horror story of

our own?”

“I suppose.” He clicked the door shut and turned the knob to start the cycle.
Jane stashed the bread then wiped the countertop. She moved in a dream, as if these

mundane tasks were performed by another person, disconnected from reality. It made

no sense to be calmly preparing the bread for a ham sandwich while a murderess was

out there waiting to bring her dead son back to life.

“Maybe. I guess I am pretty bushed,” Pierce said and put his arms ‘round her. “You

wore me out. Let’s go back to bed.”

Jane kissed his cheek. “I’ll just try Selma again.” She picked up the phone but

received the same message. “Maybe she’s away on a speaking engagement.”

Pierce shrugged. Jane knew he didn’t really agree with contacting Selma but he

hadn’t been able to come up with an alternate plan.

They threw out the newspapers and switched off the lights in the living room.
Jane hung her clothes on the repaired rail of the bedroom closet and slid naked

between the sheets. When Pierce joined her he grunted in pleasure at the feel of her bare

skin. Without a word she kissed him and snuggled close. “We should sleep. Who

knows what we’ll have to do tomorrow?”

“Right.”
He never had any trouble falling asleep and she felt his muscles relax as he drifted

off. Could all men do that? Sleep anywhere at anytime? She had no idea and it didn’t

matter, anyway. She was grasping at any random thought to keep her mind from the

next meeting with Maria. She didn’t know what to do about that, either.

Sighing, she inched away from him, lying on her back. She stayed there for a long

time, staring at the faint glow of the streetlight outside the window.

Jane’s Prize

137

Pierce shifted, murmuring in his sleep. The luminous hands of the clock crept to

midnight, then one, then two a.m.

At precisely five minutes after two the phone rang. Jane grabbed the receiver before

the second ring and pressed it to her ear.

“Yes?” she breathed.
“It’s Selma.”
“Wait one minute.” Jane slid from the bed and seized a robe from a hook behind the

door. Struggling to insert her arms in the folds while juggling the cordless phone and

opening the door, she managed at last to make her way back to the living room without

waking Pierce.

She cradled the receiver under her ear while she tied the robe. “Thanks for calling. I

was hoping you would.”

“I saw your number on my machine. You called twice. But no message.”
“No, I wasn’t sure how to put it in twenty words or less.” She paced the room as

she talked.

“Tell me.”
Jane explained about Maria, about little Stan, about the request to retrieve him from

the house and bring him back into the world.

“She got to you, didn’t she?” Selma’s tone was sympathetic.
“I guess she did. I kept thinking about the little boy, with no mother. The mother

who’d lost her child.”

“What does Pierce say?”
“He doesn’t trust her. She wanted to come to the apartment but he pulled me

away.”

“She asked to come inside with you?”
“Yes. I didn’t see why not—”
“Never let her near anything that belongs to you. Don’t let her touch you or know

where you live.” Selma’s voice took on a sharp, anxious note.

Jane’s stomach clenched. “She already knows where we live. She was on the street

outside the apartment building yesterday.”

“That’s too bad. Keep her out of the building. Pierce is absolutely right.”
“What?”
“People don’t change just because they’re dead. If Pierce knew her as a liar and says

she’s not to be trusted then you need to be very careful. There may be no little boy

hiding in the cupboard.”

“But what could she do?”
Selma gave a short laugh. “What couldn’t she do? She could drag Pierce back with

her, she could kill him again and remain here. She could even kill you if her power is

strong enough and she had the right opportunity. Is there money involved?”

Margrett Dawson

138

“Yes, a lot of money. Pierce is set to inherit the entire estate. But surely Maria can’t

inherit?”

“Did you find ways to make Pierce appear legitimate?”
“Yes.” Jane’s heart sank lower. Had she been that naïve in believing Maria’s story?
“What does Pierce want to do?”
“He wants to send her back. After talking to you I think he might be right but we

don’t know how.”

“There’s no magic spell, if that’s what you’re hoping. You’ll have to get her back to

the house where she died and did her haunting.”

“Okay.”
“But never leave her alone with Pierce. If possible, get someone else to take her.”
“I’ll try. Then what do we do?”
“You have to kill her again.”
Jane felt her heart skip a beat. “You really mean that?”
“Of course I do. It’s not a crime. She’s dead.”
“I don’t know if I could do that. Or if Pierce could do it.”
“Believe me, if it’s your life or Pierce’s life against hers you’ll do it.”
Jane pictured Selma in her living room with all the lights blazing. She remembered

what Pierce had said about the long darkness of his existence after Maria murdered

him. She shuddered.

“I’ll have to think about it.”
“I’ll do some research too and try to find out what might work best. I don’t know if

a weapon would be any good. Call me back tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, I will.”
“Good girl. I’ll talk to you again.”
Jane clicked off the phone with cold fingers. She pulled her robe tighter around her.

She had hoped there would be some kind of incantation, some magic formula for

sending Maria back but it obviously wouldn’t be simple. She thought of the Wicked

Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz. It was simple water that had melted her. And

Superman could be overcome by kryptonite…

Selma had said to send Maria to the house with someone else. Who? If she was

dangerous she would pose a threat to anyone who knew Pierce or had any concern for

him. Could ghosts take hostages?

It hadn’t sounded as if Selma gave much credence to the story about the boy. If she

was right then Maria’s target was still Pierce, just as it had been all those years ago. Jane

still felt cold, despite the warm night air. She fetched a blanket from the bedroom and

sat in the big armchair close to the window. Wrapping herself in the soft folds she

began to think and plan.

Jane’s Prize

139

She woke with a start when Pierce touched her shoulder. Daylight edged the

curtains at the living room window. She blinked and sat up, throwing off the blanket. “I

must have fallen asleep. What time is it?”

Pierce crouched beside her. “Six-thirty. Why did you come out here?”
She stretched out her back, arms extended. “God, I’m stiff. Selma phoned while you

were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” She told him what she’d heard from the late

night call, detailing Selma’s endorsement of his mistrust. “I think you’re right. We

should try to send her back.”

“Did she say how to do that?”
Jane hesitated. “Not in so many words. We’ll have to think about it.” She stood and

folded the blanket, avoiding his gaze. “Do you have plans for today?”

At that instant the phone rang. She seized it, thinking it might be Selma again. “Just

one moment,” she said, then handed him the receiver. “It’s your cousin.”

“Alex, how are you?” Pierce paced to the window as he spoke briefly into the

phone.

He clicked the receiver off and turned to her. “Alex is an early riser. He never even

apologized for phoning at the crack of dawn.” He smiled. “He’s sending a car for me at

nine. He wants me to go through some old documents with him. Do you mind if I leave

you alone for a few hours?”

“Of course not. I have a few things to catch up on too. I might be able to see Annice

for lunch. Lots of girl talk. You wouldn’t be interested anyway.”

“I guess not.” He hesitated. “We’ll talk about Maria when I come home.”
“Of course.”

Jane stood at the window long after the car had left with Pierce comfortably

ensconced inside. She had no idea how she had refrained from spilling the whole story

to him but somehow she had kept to herself the final details of Selma’s advice. Selma

had said to keep Pierce away from Maria for his own safety and that was exactly what

she would do. This was a heaven sent opportunity to arrange to meet Maria at the

house. Somehow she’d dispatch the wicked stepmother back to the underworld of the

dead and no one would ever know.

Had Selma had enough time to find more information? Unable to contain her

impatience any longer, Jane dialed the number.

Selma picked up on the first ring. “Good morning. I was about to call you.”
“Did you find out anything new?”
“Not much new, but a confirmation of what I had already heard. First of all, we

revenants—”

“What’s that?”

Margrett Dawson

140

“Revenant is a French word for ghost. It means ‘one who comes back’. It’s quite

appropriate.”

“True.”
“As I was saying, revenants usually die from disease or old age, just as they would

in their first life. They can also die by drowning or serious accident. They can be

suffocated.”

Jane shuddered. “Go on.”
“Guns and knives don’t always work. There’s something about the consistency of

our flesh, especially soon after we come over. It sort of solidifies over the months and

years, so in the early stages a bullet might go right through with no damage. Maria is

still in that stage.”

“She is. Anyway, I don’t have a gun.”
“Of course not. I didn’t imagine you would have.” Jane heard Selma sigh. “You’re

going to have to think of a way to get rid of her that is feasible for you. Just remember

that you can’t hold her, that will only strengthen her. So suffocating would have to be

with a plastic bag or some such.”

A cold shiver ran down Jane’s spine. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”
“I know. But remember, she’s dead.”
“Yes. I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll find something.”
“Good luck. Let me know how it goes.”
Jane hung up the phone, lost in thought. All kinds of scenarios had floated through

her mind during the long cold hours of the night. She had imagined finding a gun,

stabbing Maria in the heart or in the back. But nothing had seemed feasible, as Selma

warned. Something would come to her, she was sure.

But first she had to find Maria. That shouldn’t prove too difficult. She showered

and dressed quickly then swallowed a bowl of cereal, hoping it would calm her queasy

stomach. When she closed the apartment door behind her she still felt shaky at what lay

ahead but she lifted her chin and strode out with confidence.

It was a lovely morning, the sun and trees forming a contrast to the dark thoughts

in her mind. Sure enough Maria was waiting in the park. The sunlight dappled the

bench she was sitting on, sending shimmering highlights dancing over her blonde hair.

Today she was in oyster silk. Where did she get the clothes?

When she caught sight of Jane she rose quickly to her feet.
“My dear Jane,” she said, seizing her hands between her palms. “I knew you would

come. I knew you would rescue my little Stan. “

“Let’s sit down a minute.” Jane steered the other woman back to the bench. “I’ve

been thinking about what we should do.”

Maria nodded eagerly.

Jane’s Prize

141

“I have to meet a friend of mine for lunch. But then I’ll be free. I’d like you to take a

taxi out to the Mansion.”

“I’ll go with Pierce.”
“No, Pierce had to keep an important engagement, but he would be happy for you

to go and meet me there.”

Maria’s face showed her disappointment. “But Pierce has to be there.”
“Why?” Jane softened her sharp tone. “Pierce can’t make it and I know you want to

find Stan as soon as possible. We can bring Stan out, just the two of us, then we’ll come

back to meet Pierce. He will be so happy to see his little brother after all this time.”

Maria sighed. “Of course I want my boy. And I need you to do it for me, Jane. I

don’t have the power to bring someone over. It has to be a human who has never died.”

“That’s why we don’t need Pierce,” Jane said briskly and stood. “I’ll meet you at the

Newland house after lunch.” She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her shorts to

hide their shaking. She had no idea what she would be walking into but she had to keep

in mind that this was how she could save Pierce. That thought would keep her strong.

Turning on her heel, she left Maria still sitting on the bench. It was already nearly

ten and she had things to do.

Back in the apartment she found the number of the lawyer who had set all this in

motion by offering her the contract to spend two nights in the Newland Mansion.

Abigail answered the phone.

“Of course I remember you, dear,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Jane hurried on to avoid any more questions. “Do you still

have a key to the Newland Mansion?”

“Yes, we do. Why?”
Jane breathed a sigh of relief. First hurdle. “I was wondering if I could borrow it

again. Just for a few hours.”

“Whatever for?”
“My mother is very fond of antique furniture and there is so much wonderful stuff

in the house—”

“I couldn’t let you take anyone else in there.”
“No, of course not.” Encouraged by the absence of an outright refusal, Jane plowed

on. “I remember some wonderful painted urns in the living room. I’d like to go in and

take a couple of pictures. I think I have found something very similar in an antique

shop and I want to be able to compare. For authenticity, you know.” To her own ears

the story sounded barely plausible.

“You’d have to sign for it.”
Did that mean she would pass the key over? “I’ll sign whatever you like. And I’ll be

very careful.”

Margrett Dawson

142

“I know you will, dear. Is this a gift for your mother?”
“What?”
“The urn you’ve found.”
“Yes, that’s right. She would just love it.” Jane’s mother hated everything “old-

fashioned” as she called it and would not give a thank you for a gilded urn, however

valuable. Jane had never realized she could be such an accomplished liar. But then,

someone’s life had never depended on her lies before.

“That’s very nice, dear. When would you like to pick up the key?”
No time like the present, before anyone could have second thoughts, herself

included. “I’ll be right over.”

After she picked up the key and extricated herself from Abigail’s chatter, she ran

into Pete Burrard on the street. He was in uniform and looking very handsome. He

greeted her with a tip of his hat. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“Pretty good. And you?”
“Fine, fine. They looked at each other for a moment then both began to speak at the

same instant.

Pete grinned. “You first.”
“I met someone who knows you. She’s new in town. Her name’s Maria something.”
Pete frowned. “Can’t place the name.”
“She’s petite, very blonde, always looks as if she’d stepped off a catwalk.”
“Then I’d certainly remember her. Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”
“I must have misunderstood her.” She glanced at her watch. “Got to run. Pete. Nice

talking to you.”

Another one of Maria’s lies. Why had she said she had come back through touching

Pete and that he had helped her? Maybe she was such a compulsive liar that she

couldn’t tell the truth even when there was no danger in it.

It wasn’t until Jane was in her car that she realized she had never found out what

Pete was going to ask her.

Jane’s Prize

143

Chapter Twenty-One

Jane arrived at the mansion shortly after noon. Thunderheads had built up over the

ocean after the bright start to the day and a cool breeze ruffled the tops of the tall trees.

The promise of stormy weather matched her mood better than the cheery sunlight of

the early morning.

She parked at the rear of the house, backing her small car into a sheltered spot

where it would not be visible from the windows of the main part of the mansion. She

locked the car door and took a step away. Struck by a new thought, she opened the

driver’s side again and tucked the keys under the floor mat. If she had to make a speedy

retreat at least she wouldn’t be fumbling for keys or struggling to turn the vehicle

around. She closed the door without locking it.

Pleased with her calm assessment and thoughtful provision for the “might be”, she

hefted the key to the house. The black clouds that had threatened all morning chose that

moment to swallow the sun. It was as if a light had been extinguished. The top branches

thrashed and the temperature dropped by five degrees. Jane was thankful she had

changed into practical jeans and a light jacket. Her cell phone was charged and her

shoulder bag still held the pepper spray and a small flashlight from her stay in the

house. She gave a wry smile at the fears that had beset her at that time. They were

nothing compared to what she now faced.

Her sneakers made a faint crunching sound on the gravel as she walked toward the

main entrance. She looked around for signs that Maria might also have had the idea to

arrive early. There were no signs of disturbance anywhere, although she asked herself

who would be able to tell what had passed over the gravel paths strewn with dead

leaves from the previous fall? She consoled herself with the thought that Maria didn’t

have the key and, unless she had added the talent of walking through walls to her other

accomplishments, she would have to wait to be let in.

Jane took a deep breath and opened the front door.
It was obvious no one had been inside since she and Pierce left. A thin film of dust

covered the floor and the picture rails. The same sheets shrouded the furniture, offering

good hiding places. She shivered. She felt more spooked now than when she had first

entered this building weeks ago. But at that time she hadn’t believed in ghosts and

now…

Jane made a quick tour of the house, refusing to allow the strange shapes and the

shadows to play on her imagination. She had spent hours in this place, alone at first,

and had come to no harm.

She lingered in the turret room where she and Pierce had made love, then in the

bathroom where they had made love, lastly in her little room by the entrance, where

Margrett Dawson

144

they had made love. Where had they not made love? The thought of Pierce and of what

they meant to each other, all they had lived through in such a short time, strengthened

her resolve.

She had first come to the house hoping for a cash reward that would set her life

going in a new direction. Instead she had come away with a prize greater than money.

She had found her soul mate, a love she could never have imagined and a purpose that

she had to fulfill.

At last, the only room remaining was the living room where the ghosts had enacted

their scene. She hesitated in the doorway. The picture of Pierce and his family still hung

over the mantel. Maria’s painted eyes seemed to glitter in the faint light and follow Jane

as she paced the room. There was the sideboard where Maria claimed Stan had been

hiding. Of course he would not be there now. She frowned. Why hadn’t she thought of

that? If Pierce was no longer available to reenact the scene, then Maria and Stan would

not be playing their parts either. She had asked Pierce that some time ago but it had

slipped from her memory.

Even if it were true that little Stan had been a silent witness to the murder, with the

main player missing he would no longer be tucked inside the cupboard to watch and

listen.

She knew now why Maria had begged Pierce to come back to the house to complete

the murder reenactment. She had been right to keep him away.

She made her way back to the small room where she had set up her bed in order to

win the cash prize. It was now bare of furniture but the window gave a good view of

the entrance. She slid to the floor, her back against the wall, and hugged her knees.

Selma had said that revenants could die from natural causes. What were they?
Disease and old age. No. Maria looked very healthy and she was in the prime of

life, if that could be true of a ghost. Pierce had said that ghosts stayed the same age as

when they died. She looked about thirty-five. So she had years in her yet.

Drowning? No. There was no water around and she couldn’t see using the tub

upstairs. It would take eternity to fill. Maria might well die of old age before then. She

giggled then pulled herself together. Her nerves were making her frivolous.

Suffocation? She couldn’t imagine pulling a plastic bag over Maria’s head and keeping

her immobile until she died. Nix that idea.

Exposure and starvation. Her brain slowed down. Was this a possibility? If Maria

were trapped in the house with no way out would she die from lack of food and water?

Jane sprang to her feet and made for the small powder room under the stairs. She

turned the tap. Nothing. Dry as a bone. The water had been turned off.

She hurried back to her refuge and fished in her bag for her cell phone. Quickly she

dialed Selma’s number. “Be there,” she prayed. “Pick up, pick up.”

“Hello.” Selma’s voice was like a miracle.
“Selma, I’m in the house, waiting for Maria.”

Jane’s Prize

145

“Good. Is it safe?”
“As safe as I can make it. I have a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Can you… Can revenants die of starvation or thirst?”
“Of course.”
“Is it a long, painful death?”
“At my age it would be, but for someone who’s just come over it would be quick.

The flesh would still be in transition. Most of us have very healthy appetites during the

first weeks.”

Jane let out a breath. “So if I could trap her here she might die again?”
“She certainly would die again if she couldn’t find a way out. You’d have to make

sure there was no window or door she could get through. Lock her in somewhere.”

“Thank you.”
Slipping the cell phone back into her pocket, she sped through the house once more,

checking locks and window catches, breathing a vote of thanks to the builders who had

provided inside security on every window. Someone had been almost paranoid about

preventing anyone from entering or leaving without permission. She gathered up all

the small keys and put them into her pocket. They made a lump against her hip that she

could feel when she moved.

The basement stairway also had a door that locked. She removed that key.
“Lock her in,” Selma had said.
The obvious spot was the small cloakroom under the stairs. Although an addition

to the original house, it had the typical heavy door and a sturdy lock. An instinct made

Jane take one of the dustsheets from a small table in the entrance hall and fold it neatly.

Leaving the key in the lock of the small powder room, she pushed the door back against

the wall as far as it would go.

The front door remained ajar, to be opened wide when Maria arrived, but Jane took

the key from the lock and slipped it into another pocket. If she had to leave the house at

a run she would need to be able to secure the door in double-quick time.

Slightly breathless from hurrying up and down stairs she eventually returned to her

little hideaway.

The bunch of window and door keys went in her bag, which she slung bandolier-

style across her chest, after taking out the can of pepper spray. The folded dustsheet lay

within reach.

Nothing left to do but wait.

Time ticked by. She wondered what Pierce was doing and if the documents Alex

had talked of were interesting. She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. Her

Margrett Dawson

146

finger hovered over the speed dial button. How she longed to hear his voice. If only she

could tell him what was happening…

What was she thinking? If she called him, she might give something away that let

him know where she was and why. He would immediately hurry to her side and might

even run into Maria.

She put the phone away.
At that instant she heard car tires crunch on the gravel. A door slammed and a

woman’s voice spoke briefly. On her knees Jane edged to the window and peered over

the sill. Maria was paying off a taxi. The wind was whipping her silk skirt around her

legs. She was trying in vain to hold an umbrella over her coiffed hairdo. It occurred to

Jane to wonder where Maria was getting her money for clothes and now a taxi. She

dismissed the thought. Maria was devious and manipulative enough to find her way

around. In a few hours it wouldn’t matter anyway.

When the cab pulled away, Jane watched the woman pause as if searching the paths

and the façade of the house. She was probably wondering if Jane was already here and

if so, where she’d put her vehicle.

A sudden stronger gust almost blew the umbrella inside out and Maria took

hurried steps toward the main entrance. Jane scrambled to her feet and tucked the

dustsheet over her arm. God, she hoped this would be as easy at Selma said.

“Remember she’s dead. It’s not a crime,” she whispered, echoing Selma’s words.
Before Maria could ring the bell, Jane threw open the door.
“Oh, you startled me.” Maria lowered her umbrella.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were expecting me to be here.” Jane took a firmer grip on

the pepper spray can in her pocket.

“Of course. It’s just that I didn’t see your car.”
“Leave the umbrella outside.” Jane nodded toward a dry corner of the porch.
“This dreadful weather. In my day we had real summers with warm days, lots of

sunshine, parties on the lawn…” As she chattered Maria entered the house and shook

out her damp skirt. She smoothed her hair with one hand.

Jane took a step back. No way she wanted to be within arm’s reach. The door stood

ajar.

Maria moved forward, passing Jane. “I can’t wait to see my little boy. What are you

waiting for? Let’s go into the living room.”

Jane took a step to one side, bringing her close to the front door. She took the can of

pepper spray from her pocket, one finger lightly placed on the nozzle. “It’s not true, is

it?”

Pierce’s stepmother turned. “Not true?”
“Little Stan isn’t there.”
“Of course…” Her voice faded.

Jane’s Prize

147

“Shall we check?” Jane gestured to the living room with the hand holding the

pepper spray.

Maria’s eyes flickered to the can and the travesty of a smile twisted her mouth. “I

always thought you were too smart for your own good. Of course he’s not there,” she

said, “but you’re here. It was Pierce I wanted but I can get rid of you and then take my

time over Pierce.” Her face contorted with hatred and her body tensed.

Just as Maria launched herself, Jane’s finger pressed on the nozzle and a jet of

pepper spray hit Maria full in the face. She screamed and raised her hands to her face.

In rapid movements Jane shook out the dustsheet and threw it over the writhing

woman, turning her and giving her a push. Hobbled and blinded, Maria stumbled

toward the gaping door of the cloakroom. Jane shoved her inside and slammed the

door. She turned the key and heard the satisfactory click of the solid lock.

Without waiting to listen for shouts and sounds as Maria tried to fight her way out

of the shroud of the dustsheet, Jane spun around, unlatched the front door and

slammed it behind her. She inserted the key with shaking fingers and tried to turn it.

From a distance she heard Maria pound on the powder room door. “My eyes! I

can’t breathe! Open this door. I need help!”

At last the heavy key slid into place and turned in the lock. Jane stumbled down the

steps and raced for her car.

“You did what?” Pierce stared at her, for once at a loss for words.
Jane was in her robe. As soon as she had arrived home she’d stepped under the

shower, cleansing herself of every vestige of pepper spray and Maria’s perfume. Her

hair was still damp and she’d lifted it from her neck in a loose ponytail. “You heard me.

I locked Maria in the house. Selma says she’ll die very quickly.” Jane had a flash of a

neglected houseplant, withering and fading. “She won’t suffer.”

“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you love me.”
Pierce kissed her. “Haven’t I said that enough?”
“Never, it’s never enough.”
“She could have harmed you.”
“I was prepared. More to the point she could have killed you again and taken you

from me. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.” She tucked her head beneath his

chin, listening to the thump of his heart under her ear. She thought of the blood rushing

through his veins, of the life in him, growing stronger every day.

“I still can’t believe it. I would never have thought—”
“Believe it. Although I don’t think I ever want to use that powder room again.”
“I’ll have something done about it.”
“Please. Let’s change the subject. Tell me about the documents Alex showed you.”

Margrett Dawson

148

“We had a really good time going through those old papers…” Pierce slipped his

hands under her robe and stroked her back. “But they’re not nearly as interesting as,”

he brought his mouth close to hers, “what I can do with you.”

She swept her hands over his hair. She loved to feel every inch of him. She thought

she would never grow tired of touching him, making sure he was real.

He lifted his hands to her neck and pulled her mouth to his in a sweet and tender

kiss. When she made a sound in her throat he pressed harder and his tongue pushed

inside her mouth. She felt the familiar spark in her belly.

“I love you, Jane Chartraine.”
“I love you too.”
How could anyone be so happy without their heart bursting?
His lips fastened once more to hers and he loosened her robe, pushing it off her

shoulders. It slid to the floor. His hands knew her so well, knew every curve and secret

place of her body. Heat and moisture pooled between her legs.

He turned to click off a lamp, leaving only one small light burning. The sun was

almost set and little light penetrated into the reaches of the room. She could make out

the pale blur of his features and the long lines on his body.

She touched her side where the skin burned with an inner flame.
“Do it here. Right now.”
“On the floor?”
“Wherever.”
“God, you make me hot, woman. Hot and wild.” He released her and stepped

away, unzipping his jeans. His eyes darkened like the storm clouds outside. “But I’m

going to need a bed for what I’m going to do to you.”

She sank to her knees as he kicked off his shorts and unbuttoned his shirt.
“Hurry,” she whispered and lay on her back, legs spread. His cock was thick and

long. She ached to feel him inside her.

Naked, he followed her to the floor. She knew she would come in an instant when

he fucked her.

He knelt astride her, that delicious cock just inches from her eager mouth. He held

her face between his hands, stroking her lower lip with a gentle thumb, his eyes boring

into her, challenging her. “I need time for this,” he said. “No quickies, right?”

Her heart was beating too furiously to speak. With an effort of will she drew in her

breath and exhaled on the one word. “Right.”

He leaned over her and touched his lips to hers, his mouth soft yet demanding.

They moved closer and the kiss went deep, dizzying in its effect. She sank below the

pleasure like a drowning woman, lost and moaning.

Jane’s Prize

149

In her subconscious she was aware of his hands under her body and instinctively

she reached for him. “Just wait a moment, beautiful lady,” he whispered.

Suddenly his hands were hard and sure on her waist and lifted her onto the bed.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him down closer. Their lips

clung together for an eternity until he broke the kiss. Supporting himself on his hands,

he gazed down at her.

“I want to see you.” Her robe lay spread open and she watched him feast his eyes.

She loved him looking at her nakedness, knowing what her body aroused in him,

anticipating what that clever mouth and supple hands would do to her.

His eyes still locked on hers, he sank to his elbows and at last his cock was in reach.

She raised one hand and stroked it almost tentatively. She felt him harden even more

under her fingers.

He stroked her breasts, curling his fingers over each one in turn and tickling the

hardened nipple. Her hips rose in an ancient rhythm, begging for completion, but he

ignored her silent pleading. She moaned as she felt her flesh swell and throb between

her legs.

“More,” she whispered.
He rolled one nipple between two fingers. “More of what?” he teased. “I suppose I

could give you just a little more.”

He cupped one breast and brought it to his lips and tongue. He licked and sipped at

it as if he were tasting a fine wine.

“Maybe you should taste me,” he murmured. He swung his legs around and

shifted his position to lean over her, facing her feet, bringing the wet tip of his cock to

her mouth. With a sigh of pleasure she parted her lips and let him slip inside her warm

wetness. She fitted him inside her and teased the flaring tip with her tongue, tasting the

pearly saltiness that seeped from him. She drew her lips in tighter and sucked, pulling

him deeper to her throat.

His hand floated down her side and fluttered over the curls at her thighs. She

arched, desperate for more, every nerve quivering. She felt his fingers dive into her

wetness, gliding up, down and around, touching her throbbing clit and caressing her

aching opening.

Her mouth full of his pulsating flesh, she could only moan in her throat as she

longed to beg him to enter her.

At last his probing fingers slid into her and she writhed in gratitude and pleasure.

Thrills vibrated all through her and her toes curled. She could feel the creamy moisture

pouring from her. Her stomach muscles jerked as he pinched and caressed the soft flesh

between her legs. At last he removed his fingers from her hot mound and she groaned

in protest.

Margrett Dawson

150

He pushed back a little and she took him more firmly in her mouth. Her head was

empty of all thoughts save the one crying out for release. She knew she would have

done anything, promised anything if only he would drill her, nailing her to the bed.

“Not yet,” he said, reading her mind. “Just one more pleasure for us both.” He sank

his face down between her thighs and she lifted her legs, locking her ankles behind his

neck, holding him tight to her.

The tremors ran through her in time with his probing tongue, like an unending

wave of tiny orgasms. Her hands fluttered onto his strong back, feeling the muscles,

smoothing his warm skin. Her whole body floated in a delicious stupor in which she

was conscious of every touch to her sensitive body, but her mind seemingly incapable

of functioning.

Her mind and her body were totally under his control. She had been his teacher and

his mentor ever since he came back from the world of ghosts. Because she knew what to

do she had taken charge and found what he needed. But their lovemaking had always

been his domain. He had called the shots every time, making her want him more as the

days went by. But he had never dominated her or forced her. She had given willingly

what he asked.

Somehow she found the willpower to release him from her mouth. He groaned and

lifted his head. Suddenly she wanted him back where he had been, but more than that

she wanted to feel the length of his body locked against hers as he took her completely.

Yet again he seemed to know instinctively what she wanted. In a supple movement he

twisted around until he lay alongside her.

“You’re trembling,” he said. He caressed her belly and her nerves jumped

obediently. He pressed his flat palm to her abdomen.

“That’s where it aches,” she said. “Deep inside.”
“Only one remedy that I know of.”
He stretched out beside her and she rolled into his arms. She felt his throbbing

erection against her thigh. Soon she would feel that hardened shaft inside her.

“Are you ready for me?”
“You know I am.”
He held himself over her as he had done before while she lay open and flowing

with fragrant juices. She lifted her hips, touching her nakedness to his shaft. Another

white-hot tremor snaked through her from the spot where their flesh joined.

He nodded as if in agreement with her unspoken plea and lowered himself to her.

He found her opening, easing himself inside her. For a long moment he held himself

over her, watching her, pinning her with his penis. Her muscles tightened around him

and fire blazed inside her.

She gasped. “Now!”

Jane’s Prize

151

In one quick movement he thrust deeper inside her and collapsed onto her. She

closed her eyes and gave herself over to the bliss of the moment. He was hard and hot

and perfect in every way.

He pounded into her and she opened her throat to release the cries that spilled from

her.

In seconds the orgasm seized her. The contractions squeezed his cock as they swept

through her. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him tight as he cried out and

came hard.

When it was over and they had caught their breath, Pierce swept her hair from her

face and looked into her eyes.

“My dearest treasure,” he said.
“My prize beyond price.”

Margrett Dawson

152

Epilogue

Snow lay thick outside on the trees and the bushes, reflecting the Christmas lights,

turning the scene into a fairyland. Jane looked out at the peaceful scene from the tower

room of the mansion. The day had been crazy and it was good to savor peace and quiet.

So at the end of her wedding day, here she was in Pierce’s favorite room in the

mansion, married, satisfied and stark naked but for an embroidered Chinese wrap in

deep jade green. The mansion had been partially renovated but there was still work to

do. It was a beautiful house and she loved it as much as Pierce did. She stretched a hand

and stroked the silky finish of the windowsill. It was smooth and warm with hardness

beneath like a man’s muscle.

It had taken a while before Selma convinced her the ghosts were all gone and there

was no fear of any returning, but at last she had accepted it all like a strange and distant

family story to be retold and refurbished with each generation.

This day her mother’s house had been in total turmoil from the moment the sun

rose. Jane, in her white velvet gown, watched the activity swirl around her like eddies

in a turbulent sea. Her mother ran by every few minutes, already dressed in her mother

of the bride outfit and worried about caterers, flowers, programs and ten thousand

other things.

“Mother,” Jane said firmly, “it’s far too late to worry about anything now. If it goes

wrong it goes wrong.” She caught Elaine’s arm as she whisked by. “Slow down, Mom.

Enjoy the moment.”

“Oh, darling.” Elaine blinked back tears. “I thought this day would never come!”
Jane refrained from a sarcastic “thank you” but in truth she had wondered herself if

she would ever find the man she dreamed of. She smiled.

“Where’s Jim?” she asked.
“Oh, he’s doing some last minute thing with the car people.”
“Good.” James had soon become Jim and had proved to be invaluable over the last

months, providing a steadying arm for her mother. It had been good to see her mom

blossom.

Maybe there would be another wedding soon. She kissed her mother on the cheek.
“Are you sure, dear?” Elaine asked.
“Absolutely sure.”
Immediately after the end of the Newland assignment she had admitted to herself

that there was no doubt in her mind that she wanted to be with Pierce for the rest of her

life. It had just taken a little effort to make sure it could be so.

Jane’s Prize

153

He never lost his addiction to horror movies and they’d seen every blood-spattered

offering as it appeared on the screens of TV or theater. He took her for picnics and to

good restaurants. In so doing he completely captivated Elaine and all the matrons of her

acquaintance.

The vibrator had gone in the garbage before the end of July.
They had managed to wait a few weeks before venturing back into the Newland

Mansion. There was absolutely no trace of Maria or Stan or of anything that could link

Pierce to the murder that had happened so long ago.

In the turret room the reflection of the flames from the blazing fire shimmered and

danced in the glass against the blackness of the night. Every surface in the room bore a

lighted candle, shedding an amber glow over everything. The bed was made with fresh

white linens and deep pillows.

She sighed in anticipation. She would always have a soft spot for their little

apartment in town and the sturdy bed that had served them well but this would be

different.

Pierce had refused to bring her to this bed until after the wedding and it would be

new, sacred to their love.

She turned with a smile at a sound from the doorway.
Pierce appeared in a matching robe of crimson silk. He carried a tray with a bottle

and two fluted glasses. Setting the tray on the dresser between two golden candles, he

held out his hand.

“May I take you to our bed?”
She placed the tips of her fingers in his and allowed him to lead her. He stopped her

beside the bed and untied the sash of her robe, then pushed the rippling silk from her

shoulders. The robe slithered to the floor as it had done so many times before and

would do again.

Her nipples puckered and she felt the sharp dart between her legs as if this were to

be her very first time with him. She let him admire her and he ran the back of his hand

from her breast down to her mound, smiling as she quivered.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He reached out to skim the underside of one breast and the

heat sizzled right to the precious spot between her legs. “Do you care for me?” he

whispered.

“You know I do. I care for you more than I ever dreamed possible. I married you.”
“I love you, plain Jane. I loved you the moment I saw you when you tackled my

stepmother.”

He shed his own robe and her breath caught in her throat. The lights played over

his muscles, deepening the shadows, highlighting the sensuous curves. His cock stood

out strong and ready.

“Lie down for me.”
She sank back. The bed was high and wide, scented with sweet lavender.

Margrett Dawson

154

“How would you like it? What’s your favorite?”
She sighed. “I love every position we’ve tried. Everything you’ve ever done to me. I

love riding you and you riding me.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and drew him down toward her. His skin

was like satin beneath her fingers. “But I think I like it best…”

“How?”
Without answering, she pulled him closer until he stretched out over her and she

began to feel his weight.

She kissed him slowly, lingering, taking her time, for they had their whole lives in

front of them. Running her tongue around the edge of his lips, she made him open them

enough for her to nip his tongue between her teeth and draw it into her own mouth.

She sucked on it gently and heard an answering moan from deep in his throat. At last

she released him and looked at him, stroking her palms down his spine, cupping his

buttocks in both hands and pulling him into her smooth wetness.

“I think I like it best when I can look into your eyes, watch your face and you can

watch mine as you make love to me, so slowly, so long.”

She dug her fingers into him and arched into his thrusts. She felt his whole body

tensing, building up for the final moment when he would go over the precipice and she

would go with him.

“Love me, Jane,” he whispered.
“Always. Forever.”

The End

About the Author

Margrett Dawson has been a nomad most of her life, and has lived in six different

countries. She is settled for a while with her own romance hero on Vancouver Island on

Canada's Pacific Coast, where she loves to craft sexy stories about people who fall in

love. She will move on again (this time to Africa for a few months) but will continue to

spin tales, especially about people who find romance when they least expect it.

The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Tell Us What You Think

We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at

Comments@EllorasCave.com.

Also by Margrett Dawson

Bella Donna
Heat
Heart’s Delight
Hot to the Touch
Secret Services

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning

publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC

on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you

breathless.

www.ellorascave.com

Wyszukiwarka

Podobne podstrony:
Regina Carlysle [High Plains Shifters 05] Lawman [EC Twilight] (pdf)
Lexxie Couper [Fire Mate 02] How to Love Your Dragon [EC Twilight] (pdf)
Camryn Rhys Airship Seduction [EC Twilight] (pdf)
Lexxie Couper [Fire Mate 01] Ty the Sexy Dragon [EC Twilight] (pdf)
Anya Richards Arctic Destiny [EC Twilight] (pdf)
Dena Garson [Emerald Isle Fantasies 03] Ghostly Persuasion [EC Twilight] (pdf)
Aubrey Ross [Undercover Embassy 03] Codename Spring [EC Aeon] (pdf)
Iris Astres Alien, Interrupted [EC Aeon] (pdf)
Katherine Kingston [Passions 04] Healing Passion [EC Legend] (pdf)
Katherine Kingston [Passions 01] Ruling Passion [EC Legend] (pdf)
Katherine Kingston The Last Candle [EC Moderne] (pdf)
J L Taft Ain t No Angel [EC Breathless] (pdf)
Madeleine Oh [Dominant Lovers 02] Touch of a Dom [EC Taboo] (pdf)
Aubrey Ross [Undercover Embassy 04] Codename Summer [EC Aeon] (pdf)
Emily Ryan Davis [Taken in Bondage 03] Tangled & Bound [EC Taboo] (pdf)
Jaid Black The Possession [EC Taboo] (pdf)
Katherine Kingston Checkmate [EC Aeon] (pdf)
Katherine Kingston Walpurgis Night [EC Legend] (pdf)
Katalina Leon Noblesword [EC Exotika] (pdf)

więcej podobnych podstron