Elphi slipped her hand free of Rufus's slackening grip and rubbed the tender flesh while studying her husband.
He stared straight ahead down the empty scorched hallway, his brow creasing in his familiar frown as he tilted his head to the side as though straining to hear quiet conversation.
Was this a regular part of his investigating, or did he see something she couldn't?
The thought had barely crossed her mind before she stiffened, her heart hammered against her ribs, blood rushed in her ears, and tingles of awareness whispered across her skin.
She couldn't deny it made sense. Especially after Lord Waltham admitted the castle was haunted and that regular apparition sightings occurred.
How many ghosts did he see?
Considering the castle's age, there could be hundreds—or thousands. Elphi swallowed and took a step back. That was a sobering thought. Was he overwhelmed when coming to a place like this? She certainly would be.
She had so many questions to ask him but clenched her mouth shut, knowing she would have to wait until they were alone. And then, of course, it would depend on whether Rufus trusted her enough to answer them, which could take years.
Or it might never happen at all.
Roderick hadn't known about Rufus's ability, and they'd been best friends for almost two decades.
But then Elphi stifled a gasp when a moment of insight struck. Rufus had never invited Roderick along on an investigation.
At least, not to her knowledge.
So she had to believe that was a mark in her favor, proving... well, she didn't know what it proved, but it had to mean something. She was sure of it.
A dark shadow passed over the castle, bringing a sense of foreboding and impending loss. It was a familiar sensation, yet after not feeling it since Percy died three years ago, so unexpectedly oppressive that it broke Elphi's trance, and she blinked, unsure how long she'd been standing there, watching Rufus.
He'd moved farther away from her during the last few minutes and had walked past four scorched doors covered in blistered and peeling paint. Elphi shielded her eyes and looked to the sky, worried they were about to get rained on.
"That's odd," she murmured, her brow puckering in a frown, her stomach knotting, and her heart pounding as the feeling of doom escalated.
Rufus glanced up, a look of embarrassed surprise on his face, and Elphi wondered if he'd forgotten she was there. "What's odd?"
Elphi shook her head and returned her attention to the cloudless blue sky. "It must have been my... "
Her words dwindled into silence when a low moan reached her ears, and she could have sworn she saw the charred rafters that jutted into the sky shift. She looked to Rufus.
Had he heard the noise or witnessed the beams move as well? It didn't appear that way; he seemed lost once more in communing with Kernwith Hold's dead.
But wouldn't the spirits tell him if there was imminent danger? And if not, surely Rufus would sense it—unless he was too distracted, which she'd noticed seemed to happen relatively easily and rather frequently.
Chewing the inside of her cheek, Elphi was torn between alerting Rufus to what may be nothing more than her overwrought nerves and keeping silent until he finished his investigation.
However, when Rufus took another step down the empty corridor, Elphi not only heard the problematic rafters pop and groan again, but a beloved voice she hadn't heard in six long years distinctly told her, "Save him."
Rufus clutched Elphi to his chest as a choking cloud of dust and soot settled around them.
Elphi's panicked shout, mixing with what he'd thought to be a banshee scream until he saw the roof collapsing, still echoed in his brain.
His alarmed and horrified gaze traveled from his wife laying atop him to the broken and charred rafters on the ground where he'd been standing seconds earlier.
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, "You're the one who got knocked to the ground."
His hand trembled as he tucked an errant lock of dusty auburn hair behind her left ear. "In that case, you're welcome for breaking your fall."
Elphi's throat convulsed on a swallow, and she couldn't stop touching him, not that Rufus was complaining. "Is that what you think happened? Not that I saved you?"
"Isn't it?" He tried to tease as she scooted off and sat beside him on the dirty floor.
Rubbing his sore right shoulder, he stood with a groan and helped her to her feet. "What else should I believe when one minute I'm investigating the paranormal, and the next my wife is doing an unexpected—and rather impressive, I might add—impression of a charging bull, with me as her target?"
"Well, this is a quandary I never expected to find myself in," Elphi chortled, brushing at the thick smears of dust and cobwebs stuck to her torn left sleeve.
He pulled a twig and what very well might be the femur of a rodent from her hair. Rufus's stomach clenched, and his heart thumped against his ribs as visions filled his mind of what could have happened if her timing had been even a fraction slower. "What quandary is that?"
She watched him flick the small bone aside and shuddered. "Shall I be offended at being compared to a bull or take it as a compliment that you thought my impression of one was impressive?"
He wanted to laugh, or at the very least, chuckle. Elphi's sense of humor was one of the many qualities he liked best about her. But all it took was one look at her bedraggled state, and the tiny bubble of mirth fizzled out into nothingness.
Forcing his lips into the semblance of a smile to hide his inner turmoil, he tried to keep his tone playful. "Perhaps the question I should have asked is how did you become so fast and powerful?"
"Years of sibling rivalry against Roderick," she grinned. But as she continued to look at him, the teasing light dimmed from her eyes, and the smile faded. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
He shook his head and stared at her, determined to hold his tongue even as he opened his mouth and said, "You could have been killed, Elphi."
Elphi took his hand in hers and gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. "I wasn't—"
"But you might have been—"
"So might have you, Rufus."
"If anything had—" He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. She was right, but it didn't make the thought of her in danger any easier to bear. Gripping Elphi by the upper arms, he gently shook her, "Why?"
A wealth of feeling and meaning was loaded into that single, tiny word. For several heartbeats, Elphi stared at Rufus, her eyes shining with a tangle of emotions he recognized but refused to put names to this early in their relationship.
She was quiet for so long that he didn't think she would answer, and never in a million years did he expect her to say, "Because Bradford told me to save you."
"What?"
Rufus glanced at the ghost in question, but Bradford refused to acknowledge his presence and kept his gaze trained on Elphi.
"I know what it sounds like—" Elphi snapped her mouth closed and shook her head. Her throat convulsed on a swallow, and she whispered, "But I would have done it regardless because I... I think I need you, Rufus... as much as you might need me."
She had no idea.
Rufus worried for a split second that he'd uttered the thought aloud and then realized within the next heartbeat that it didn't matter.
Because there in Kernwith Hold's burnt medieval corridor, he hauled Elphi into his arms and drank from her lips as though he'd been dying of thirst in a desert for the past decade, and she was the oasis created just for him.
The contact branded her forever on his heart and exhilarated his soul.
His right hand trembled as it cradled her jaw, then moved to cup the back of her head, holding her in place as his mouth settled more possessively atop hers.
He didn't care that they were covered in soot, cobwebs, and who knew what else, or that Bradford, Percy, and Fitz stood witness among the other ghosts.
All that mattered was that every primal instinct demanded he kiss her or perish.
When he deepened the kiss, Elphi curled her arms around his waist and clung to him as passion erupted between them with such blinding speed that Rufus began shaking with need. His mouth slanted over hers again and again.
Finally, when he realized that with every passing second, he was perilously close to seeking out the nearest bed, regardless of its ruined condition or any promises made, Rufus forced himself to stop.
Even though doing so went against every male fiber in his being.
Elphi stared at him with confused passion-glazed eyes, her lips swollen and glistening, and Rufus desperately wanted to kiss her again.
"TREADWAY," Lord Waltham shouted, his voice ricocheting up the stone staircase. A series of hurried footsteps soon joined the last of the reverberations.
Thankful for the interruption, even as he cursed Lord Waltham's timing, Rufus swooped in and delivered one last frantic kiss to Elphi's lips, then another when it proved insufficient to quell his renewed thirst for her, before taking a cautious step away.
"LORD AND LADY TREADWAY!" Lord Waltham shouted again, his voice shaking with panic as he, Mr. Lane, and five footmen reached the top of the staircase, gasping for breath.
"Oh, thank the heavens, you're both safe," he panted, pressing a hand to his heaving chest. "We heard a tremendous crash and feared there'd been another—" He noticed their disheveled appearance, and then his gaze dropped to the charred debris on the floor and paled.
"We're unharmed," Rufus rushed to call out as he helped Elphi maneuver over the rafters and then hurried to join the two men by the stairs. "A little startled perhaps, but none the worse for wear, and I think I—"
"It's too much."
"My Lord?" Rufus said, unable to hide his confusion.
Lord Waltham shook his head and settled a hand on Rufus's dust-covered left shoulder as he stared at him, stricken. "I was a fool to believe things could go back to how they were before."
Rufus frowned, "Lord Waltham, if you'll only let me explain—"
"There's too much death trapped in these walls, Treadway. If I couldn't see it before, then I do now. Don't you understand? It was a mistake bringing you here and putting you in danger. Kernwith Hold must be torn down." He heaved a weary sigh that deflated his entire body and nodded.
Rubbing his brow, he stared at the space between Rufus and Elphi, pursed his lips, straightened, squared his shoulders, and met Rufus's gaze. "I appreciate all you've done and will honor my agreement concerning your fee, but I must insist you and your lovely wife leave before further harm befalls you."
"Lord Waltham—" Rufus began.
"I'll hear no more on the matter," the Earl interrupted. "My mind is made up, and Mr. Lane can attest I'm immovable once that occurs."
Mr. Lane lowered his head in a resolute nod but remained silent.
Seeing nothing he could do or say would change the Earl's mind, Rufus settled his right hand at the small of Elphi's back. "Very well. If that is your wish, we'll honor it."
"It is." Dipping his head in a perfunctory nod at Rufus and Elphi, Lord Waltham turned on his heel and motioned them to follow him downstairs.
Elphi took one last glance at the dilapidated castle before climbing into the carriage and was surprised by the amount of sorrow the ruins stirred to life within her.
"Are you all right?" Rufus murmured as he entered and sat beside her before the carriage rolled into motion.
She nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from the mournful pile of stones until they'd passed outside the main gate, and it was obscured by a grove of trees. "Do you think he'll actually do it? Destroy Kernwith."
Rufus hesitated. "I do."
Elphi fidgeted with the edging of her cloak, pleating, and un-pleating the thick material. "What will happen to them... when it's gone?"
"Lord Waltham has many other properties to—"
"Not them," she whispered, flicking a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. "I meant the ghosts, Rufus."
He stiffened beside her so there was no question that he'd heard her, but Rufus was quiet for so long that Elphi didn't think he would answer.
And then, finally, to her surprise and delight, he took hold of her hand and quietly said, "The newer ones who remember who they were will leave... move on and let go of what was holding them there. Others may stay... for a while."
"How long is a while?"
Rufus lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "It's difficult to say; I don't think they measure time the same way we do."
She looked at him in surprise. "I'd never considered that."
His lips curled in a shy smile as he met her gaze and whispered, "Normal people usually don't."
There was a wistful tone to his voice that, when coupled with his last statement, struck a chord deep in her soul.
Here was a man who knew what it was like to experience aching loneliness and wish to be someone different. Even if only for an hour.
Just for the chance to feel like an ordinary person.
"You consider me normal?" She whispered, her lips bending in a tender smile. "Even though I'm—"
"You're not cursed," he interrupted, his gaze and voice intense, "not any longer."
Elphi convulsively swallowed to dislodge the lump of emotion clogging her throat and asked, "Are they cursed... or is Kernwith Hold keeping them there against their will?"
He stared at her in silence, his eyes softening as he shook his head. "Neither—many of them are still grappling with the shock of being dead, or they feel lost and confused. Some move on once their situation is explained; others don't take the news well and need more time and motivation to leave."
Rufus's gaze fell on the empty bench for several minutes, and his face took on the same peculiar expression she'd seen back at the castle.
But Elphi didn't ask if ghosts traveled with them or who he was conversing with. There was no need. Because with increasing regularity, she saw her parents or Bradford, Fitz, or Percy's reflections shimmer to life in mirrors and windowpanes, caught glimpses of them out of the corner of her eyes when walking from one room to another, and heard their voices.
However, never with such startling clarity as today.
Elphi turned to watch the scenery roll by, desperate to ask more questions. Important ones that had plagued her since Mother died eleven years ago and others she'd tucked away with every traumatic death over the years since then.
Rufus nudged her gently with his elbow and murmured, "Penny for your thoughts?"
She met his gaze, knowing if anyone would be able to understand and make sense of it all, Rufus would. But doing so would bare her soul, and she wasn't ready for that.
So, she cradled his hand in hers, threading their fingers together, rested her head on his left shoulder, and hoped he would know what she meant when she softly said, "Not all haunted places are crumbling castles, Rufus."