Emerald Embrace by Shannon Drake

merely the thought of your ancient ancestors, prowling about the halls.”
    “Ah, yes, the haunts of the castle. Are you sure that you wish to brave them longer?”
    She thought there was a challenge to the soft taunt in his words, and she did not know if he wanted her to stay or to leave. And she wondered if he knew himself what he wanted.
    “I told you—”
    “But you see, Martise, you do fear the ghosts.”
    “I dreamed and nothing more.”
    She felt his gaze, though she could not see his eyes in the darkness. “Bolt the door, then. Rest well,” he said, and then he was gone.
    For a moment she was still, but then leapt to her feet and raced across the room to slide the bolt. She hesitated there. She could have sworn she had done this before, but then …
    She walked across the room to the doors to the balcony. She tried them and discovered that they were firmly bolted. Exhaling slowly, she returned to her bed and lay down upon it.
    His scent seemed to linger on the air. She ran her hand over the bed where his heat still remained.
    She closed her eyes and prayed for sleep. Images of the day kept running through her mind. She saw Clarissa, laughing through the wrought-iron bars of the gate. Beautiful, bold Clarissa, who so evidently wanted the master of Creeghan.
    Faces swam before her: Father Martin’s, Dr. MacTeague’s. Elaina’s … the doctor’s again, earnest before her as he swore that Bruce Creeghan had been devastated.
    But things happened. He had never told her what, he had only alluded to the full moon. Strange things happened by the light of the full moon. The people were superstitious. They still worshiped, in their ways, phallic symbols and fertility gods and goddesses.
    At last, the images began to drift away. And in time, she slept.
    And she dreamed again.
    But this time, there was no horror, no terror-filled run along the stone halls of Creeghan. This time, she was here, within this room, and she was alone with Creeghan.
    And in the dream she met his eyes. He cast the elegant smoking jacket from his shoulders and began to walk toward her. He was naked and sleek and magnificent, and she should have been shocked, and she should have looked away, but she could not.
    She waited, barely breathing, waited, with her arms outstretched. And then he was with her, and he touched her, and it seemed she was consumed with flame, and the sweet magic overwhelmed her … and she knew no more.
    But it was with her, the dream was still with her, when she awoke to the bright light of morning. Mortified, she drenched her face in the wash water again and again, and even then, she sat at the foot of the bed and shivered, and wondered what power it was he wielded that could do this to her. Was it something in the wine, or in the water?
    She knew that it was not. It was in the man, and in the man alone.
        Elaina was the only one in the great hall when Martise came down for the day. She was quickly up, pulling back one of the dragon-footed chairs for Martise to have a seat. “I’m so glad to see you. I thought that I was all alone for this meal. Ian and Conar are out in the fields and Bruce has gone to see the harness makers. And even Uncle Peter is occupied this afternoon, something about water seeping into the cellar. Castles, you know,” she said with a wry grin. “They are the very devil to keep up.”
    Martise smiled, taking the chair Elaina had drawn out for her. “I imagine that it must be so. I’ve never lived in a castle, but I have seen many rather great manor houses, and even those are often victims of time.”
    “Of course. Tea?” Elaina asked. “Hogarth has left us to serve ourselves since we are alone. We’ve chafing dishes on the buffet. May I fix you a plate?”
    Elaina seemed so eager that Martise smiled and agreed. “Please.”
    Elaina poured the tea first, then set about preparing a plate for each of them. Finally, she sat once again and picked up her fork, but did not really seem to want