The Pirate Ghost Read online

  “I’d like to see to it that you get out more.” His voice was soft, a masculine purr that resonated deep within her. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” she said uncertainly.

  Before she could offer an excuse to slow down the progression of intimacy, he asked, “How about dinner at my place?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I enjoyed tonight, but I’m not up to socializing every night.”

  “And I thought I was being quite charming and gentlemanly.” He smiled as he spoke, but the tightness of the smile betrayed a certain inner tension.

  “You were a perfect gentleman,” Tess returned.

  “Then come to dinner. I know how to continue being a gentleman. Or, we could go out again.”

  “It’s not that,” Tess said quickly. “It’s just that, well, I was married for five years. Five years of seeing the same man every day.”

  “I wasn’t asking for a permanent commitment,” he countered. “Just a dinner date.”

  “I know, but going out again so soon feels awkward to me.”

  “Okay, Tuesday. What about Tuesday?”

  “Oh, all right.” Tess laughed at his speedy accommodation to her terms. “Tuesday would be nice.”

  “Wonderful. Now, since tomorrow is a workday, I suppose it would only be fair to get you home early.”

  “I am a bit tired.”

  “Well, then, we’ll get the check and be on our way.”

  CHARLES PARKED HIS CAR in front of her bungalow and clasped her hand in his before she could open the car door. “I had a wonderful evening,” he said again quietly. “And I hope that you did, as well.”

  “I certainly did, Charles. I’m glad you caught me on your beach.”

  “Me, too.”

  He dipped his head toward hers and kissed her quickly, his move catching her off guard. “What time should I come for you on Tuesday?” he asked, a note of determination coloring his voice now.

  “Seven would be fine,” Tess said. “I work close by, so it won’t take long to get ready.”

  “Great.” He opened his car door and hurried around to meet her as she opened her door and stepped out. “You might want to bring a bathing suit, too.” When they reached her front door, he said, “Good night, Tess. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

  “Good night.”

  She watched him walk back to his car, feeling strangely uncertain about the man. There wasn’t anything wrong with him and he hadn’t behaved badly, yet she wasn’t terribly eager to see him again. What was it about him that put her on guard like this?

  Unlocking the door to her dark house, Tess decided that it probably wasn’t him as much as all men she was on guard against. Maybe the problem was the shadowy man named Dyer.

  She knew even less about Dyer than she did about Charles Dumont but she felt that she could trust him more. While he, too, had stolen a kiss, his had been more graciously bestowed.

  Tess changed out of her dinner dress quickly and put on her favorite pair of men’s cotton pajamas and a light robe. She’d simply relax for the rest of the evening. She had just begun a new novel and was eager to return to it. Now, if she could only find some relaxing music on the radio, she would brew a cup of tea and settle down for a good read....

  But her doorbell rang. She went to answer it with a sigh of resignation. It was probably Betty Crown, a friend from work who was chronically unable to manage her life and who was constantly in a state of alarm. She was about due to come running to Tess for aid and comfort.

  But it wasn’t Betty. It was Darrell Cage.

  “Good evening, dear, glad to catch you in,” he said sarcastically as he began to step through the door.

  “Hey,” Tess shouted, barring his way, “I’m not inviting you in, Darrell.”

  “Oh, come on, Teresa. What’s wrong with my coming in to talk over old times?”

  “I’ve signed all the papers, Darrell. Your precious business is free of any claims from me. The least you can do is let me be free, too. Our divorce is final.”

  “I’m not here about business, Tess.”

  “I’m not dressed,” she protested, still blocking the door.

  “I’ve seen you in less,” he replied with a leer.

  “But you won’t again,” she assured him. “Now go away.”

  “No.” Darrell ducked beneath her arm and stepped into the house. “See? Nothing happened. I’m inside and you’re still safe and sound.”

  “What do you want?” she asked, her tone resigned. “It’s nearly ten o’clock.”

  “But you’ve never been one for an early bedtime, so I knew it wasn’t too late.” He sat in a bentwood rocker. “I just wanted to know how your date went.”

  “What date?”

  “The blond twerp who dropped you off half an hour ago—that date, dear. How was it?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “But I remember a whole evening spent with your telling me how I had turned you off men for good. I clearly remember that.” He stood quickly and strode over to stand in front of her. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Yes,” she replied, swallowing hard. “So what?”

  “So what? So here you are running around town. Even though you spoke out in public and declared that I caused you to be unable to trust men.”

  “My dating is none of your business,” she said again, stepping back from him. “I’m not your wife anymore.”

  “Three months ago you still were my wife!” he shouted.

  “We’d been separated for over a year!”

  “Three lousy months! You coulda let the ink dry, Teresa!”

  “I did!” she shouted back, loosing her temper. “What’s wrong, Darrell? Can’t bully me as often as you like? Run out of papers for me to sign so you’re left with spying on me to make me miserable?”

  “You were my wife!” he repeated angrily, his fists tightening.

  “Well, I’m not now!”

  “You’ll never marry anyone else, Teresa!” he threatened, his voice rising. “I promise you that!”

  Seeing the explosive anger in his face, Tess froze. Now she wished she had invited Charles inside and avoided Darrell’s jealous outburst. But that would only have postponed the confrontation, and she didn’t expect that Charles would have been much of a protector anyway. No, Mr. Dyer might fill that capacity, but Charles Dumont was surely more of a negotiator than a fighter and would be useless against the likes of Darrell.

  Darrell stepped up to within a foot of her, backing her against the couch. “Was that the point of the divorce? To get a chance to go out with new men?”

  “No, to get away from you,” she replied evenly. She wasn’t about to back down from him, not now or ever

  “And where is he now? Or maybe he wasn’t your type. What kind of man were you looking for when you made up those lies about me and threw them around in public?” He grasped her shoulders.

  “Let go of me, you animal!” Tess struggled, trying to escape his hold. “Get out!”

  “What kind of man do you want?” His grip on her tightened. “Tell me!”

  “Any kind but your kind!” she shouted.

  Darrell pushed her away, sending her sprawling to the floor in the center of the room. Shakily, she rose to her knees, weeping.

  “A man like Gabriel Dyer,” she whispered, marveling at how the name had come to her. “Gabriel Dyer.”

  “So that’s his name!” His eyes glazed, Darrell headed toward her, seeming capable of murder. Suddenly, Tess heard a voice imploring her from behind.

  “Use your head, lass,” the voice said. “Butt him hard in the stomach! Do it now!”

  Without thought, she launched herself forcefully at Darrell’s middle and knocked him back against the couch.

  “Now cup his ears hard while he’s reeling,” the man said. “Then twist an arm up behind his back if you can.”

  Once more, Tess complied, slamming her cupped hands hard against Darrell’
s ears as he was beginning to rise. Darrell cried out and reached for his ears, but Tess took one wrist in both hands and twisted the arm down and around, pinning him to the floor.

  “That’s a fine show, lass,” Gabriel said. “Fine indeed. But you’ve got to do better. Pull his arm hard up behind his head or he won’t believe you mean business. Hard!” he insisted when she failed to increase the pressure. “Snap it up as if you mean to break it, dear, for you’ve got to walk him out the door now.”

  She did as he said, pulling Darrell’s arm up until he groaned. Then she pulled until Darrell rose to his feet. She pushed him, half-crouched, toward the front door. A moment later, Darrell was standing in the yard massaging his shoulder.

  “You lousy...” he began.

  Tess slammed the door, cutting off the rest of his invective. She locked and chained the door and leaned back against it with a thankful sigh. Then she tensed again, suddenly aware of what bad just happened.

  “Gabriel?” she asked timidly. There was no one to be seen in the room with her. “Gabriel Dyer? Where are you?”

  “Right here.” The man rose until he was standing in a stooped position behind the large reclining chair she used for reading.

  “My goodness, how did you get in? How did you know to come?” Tess began walking toward the man, smiling gratefully even as she began to ask the first of dozens of questions that had suddenly come into her mind.

  “Wait there,” he commanded, thrusting one palm toward her over the chair. “I haven’t a stitch of clothing on me, lass! If you have any modesty, you’d turn out the light!”

  “What?” But his chest was indeed bare, so she had no reason to doubt him. “How did you get here naked?”

  “It’s a long story,” he replied, grinning. “So humor me and give me some darkness in lieu of clothing.”

  In spite of the strange circumstances, she was about to do just that when a singular occurrence stopped her movement back toward the door. When Dyer lowered his hand, it dropped directly through the chair as though it was nothing but a shadow!

  Chapter Four

  Tess couldn’t believe what she’d just seen. His hand hadn’t just passed through the chair, had it? No, no way. But then she was neither drunk nor crazy, and she saw what she saw, didn’t she? She wasn’t really sure at all.

  “You are...?” she began. She really wasn’t sure what she intended to ask.

  “I am what I am, I imagine,” he said, smiling. “Naked, mostly, at this time. Could you? The light?”

  “Oh, yes.” In shock, she switched off the light, the only remaining illumination coming from the hallway light in a long rectangle on the floor.

  “There,” he said. “I feel better for the darkness. We haven’t exactly been properly introduced. My name is Gabriel Dyer.”

  He extended his hand toward her, and Tess eyed it skeptically. How could she shake hands with a man who couldn’t even touch a chair?

  “Yes, I know,” Tess said. She walked over to him and took his hand, jumping slightly when she found herself holding a very solid and surprisingly warm and strong hand. “I’m Tess Miller.”

  “And I know that, as well,” Gabriel said.

  He held her hand a moment longer, looking into her eyes, then released it and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Do that again,” Tess said. “What you did earlier. Drop your hands down.”

  “Oh, that.” He did as she asked, and both his hands swung through the chair. He placed them on his hips hidden behind the chair. “I’ve a bit of a problem getting hold of things, lass,” he told her. “Did you think I didn’t want to grab the wharf rat that was doing you harm?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about that,” she said, wondering if she was losing her mind. “I’m still trying to understand how you can put your hand through my chair.”

  “Well, I’m not all here, you might say.” He laughed then, filling the air with a musical sound. “What year is it?”

  “It’s 1995.”

  “Well, then, my ciphering isn’t the best, and long out of practice I am, but I’d say it’s been three hundred and fifty odd years since I’ve managed to touch anything at all. Until you, that is. Aye, I’ve found I’m well able to touch you, lass.”

  “Three hundred and fifty?” Whatever this guy was trying to pull on her, it wasn’t making sense so far. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, it was September, in the year of our Lord 1641, when my crew threw me from the foredeck of the Maria Louisa.” He laughed. “That was the end of me for certain.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Mutiny,” he said, emphasizing the word as though talking to a slow child. “They killed me!”

  “Who killed you? No, wait a second. Why should I ask who did it when I can’t believe for a moment that it’s been done? Killed? You mean killed dead?”

  “There’s no other type of killed I can think of,” he replied easily. “Not in this world anyway.”

  “But you’re here,” she said. “I can see you, Gabriel. And I can touch you.”

  “I’m not conversant with the mechanics of this thing,” he said. “I’ll admit as much. But the fact remains that they threw me from the ship and left me to drown—which I did, I assure you. Until last night, when you came splashing so close to my own fate, I hadn’t made contact with another human being in three hundred and fifty—no, fifty-four years. It’s a fact, miss. I’m not lying.”

  “Get real.”

  “What is it you’re saying?” He cocked his ear toward her in curiosity. Then he smiled, saying, “Oh, that’s a current phrase of sorts, I take it. You don’t believe me? Well, here, keep your eyes on me, then.”

  With that, he disappeared.

  “Where are you?”

  Tess turned around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him running to a hiding place in the room. She saw nothing, but she seemed to feel a breeze and catch the scent of sea air for a moment.

  “Okay, I’m impressed,” she said. “You can come out now.”

  And he did, appearing right in front of her not more than five inches away, and she found herself suddenly staring at his smiling mouth.

  “Oh, God,” Tess moaned. Her knees went suddenly weak and she stepped back to sit heavily on the couch, staring at the man. “Oh, my God.”

  “I’m still not dressed, lass,” he said. The hallway light picked out his shadow.

  “I think I believe you,” she said. “You’re really a dead man?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid that I am.”

  “But how did you come to be here? Why?”

  “I have not the faintest idea. I heard you splashing about and went to help you. You can imagine my surprise when I was actually able to grab hold.”

  “Do you mean you’ve tried before? You’ve been up here—up in the world—before?”

  “Yes, many times, but never to shore and nobody ever sees or hears me. I have never been able to make contact at all.”

  “You’ll have to tell me the whole story,” Tess said then. “This is so strange I can hardly grasp it.” Or else the trauma of seeing Darrell had unhinged her.

  “I wish I could cover myself first,” he said. “I’m not normally a modest man, but you’re neither my mother nor a lady of the evening, so I’d like to be a gentleman if I can.”

  “How can you wear clothes when you can’t touch a chair?”

  “I don’t know as I can.”

  Tess stood. “You know, if you can touch me, maybe you can touch my clothing, too. I’m afraid I’m smaller than you, but I’ve got some sweatpants that might not look too horrible Just a second.”

  She ran to her bedroom feeling nearly giddy about the whole thing. She’d either gone crazy or she had a ghost standing in her living room! A naked ghost! It was too outrageous to be believed, and yet it was also too good to be true.

  He was a handsome man after all, and he had rescued her like a knight in shining armor. Rescued her twice, really. Could she b
e imagining this? Could she have gone off the deep end and made up some masculine fantasy figure?

  You’re not crazy. You didn’t make him up. Tess, you only just got rid of one man. Why on earth would you make up another?

  She pulled the sweatpants from her drawer. They were her black ones; she didn’t think he’d appreciate wearing the pink. Turning back toward the living room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the long mirror on the back of her bureau. She saw an ordinary-looking woman wearing men’s pajamas and a light robe, hardly a feminine sight. No makeup or anything! She couldn’t imagine what he must think of modern women!

  But that couldn’t be helped now; the first impression had already been made. She took the garment out to him feeling glumly certain that he must have found her quite unappealing. Tess held the garment out. “All right, Mr. Dyer, see if you can hold on to these.”

  He reached out and grasped the sweatpants and then bunched and stretched them happily in his hands. “The first cloth I’ve held in ages!” he exclaimed. “They’ll be tight, to be sure, but it is truly amazing that I have something to wear at all.” Gabriel moved into the darkest corner of the room and struggled into the pants. A mild oath escaped his lips when his toe caught the elastic in the cuff. “All right, then,” he said. “Let’s have some light in the room, shall we?”

  Tess switched on the light and regarded the man in front of her.

  He was just under six feet tall with a broad chest and thickly muscled arms. The pants were stretched tightly over his muscular hips and legs, and stopped at midcalf. Rather than his appearing ridiculous in them, the inherent confidence of his stance allowed him to sport a rather dashing look.

  His hands were strong and callused, but with long, artistic fingers like the hands of a piano player. His face was just as she remembered it from the night before. A square-cut study in manly confidence, it bore a small scar on the ndge of his left cheekbone and another on the jaw below it. His lips were wide and full, ready for smiling, and the teeth were surprisingly white and even. The eyes set beneath thick, expressive brows were a lively shade of green that sparkled with his smile. His hair, a dark auburn shade, was long and pulled back into a ponytail with a piece of red ribbon.