Ravens Deep (one) by Jane Jordan Page A

was a long time ago, but being in this house again . . .” he paused briefly. “I remember it like no time has passed,” he concluded reflectively.
                  I put the flowers in water and offered him a glass of wine.  To my amazement he
    accepted , and I wondered, could ghosts drink. Taking the wine he walked to the doorway.
                  “Would you mind if I looked in the library?  It used to be my favourite room,” he added casually.
                  “Of course, go though,” I replied agreeably, “I will just finish here and join you.” 
                  I finished with my arrangement picked up my wine glass and walked through to the library.  I was surprised to find Darius sitting at the desk reading a page of my manuscript. I regretted not putting it away before he arrived. 
                  “Please, don’t read that, it’s really rough,” I said, feeling embarrassed. But Darius ignored my objection and continued reading.
                  “You write with great sentient.  A quality most people do not possess. There is an
    intensity and understanding in your words.  This is the book you told me about?” he indicated to the manuscript in front of him.
                  “Yes it is, or it will be,” I said.  “I have only just started and still have a long way to go.”  
                  “You never told me about the content of the book,” Darius remarked, as he looked up, and I felt extremely self conscious as his piercing green gaze followed me across the room.
                  “Well,” I said walking closer to him, “my heroine will discover that she has connections back to royal lineage. She uncovers a murderous past that calls into question the birthright of monarchs that are on the throne today.  She will discover her own ancestry remains linked in more ways than she knows with her present.”
                  “I would like to read this book when it is complete,” Darius said, putting the manuscript down.
                  “You will have my very first copy,” I said demurely.
                  “Your heroine, is she based on you?” I shook my head.  
                  “At first she was, but now, I find I can have more creative license with her if she is entirely fictitious.  that is why I needed to come to a remote place like this, to create and to be inspired without any distractions of modern or city life.”
                  “Am I a distraction?” he asked curiously without taking his eyes from mine. Again the air was filled with that intense magnetism, an underlying current of electricity that seemed to resonate between us.  My skin had become suddenly warm and it was with great effort that my voice remained even in tone.
                  “Yes you are, but a good one I hope.”  I felt even more self conscious of the words I had just spoken.  My face felt as if it was burning as Darius’s eyes gazed hypnotically into mine.  I searched for a distraction and raised my wine glass.
                  “To my book and to actually finishing it.” I smiled at him. He too raised his glass.
                  “To you and your book,” he said, watching me closely. I took a large gulp of wine and promptly started choking. Darius was at my side in an instant. 
                  “I’m fine,” I said half spluttering, “really I am.”  I composed myself quickly and laughed nervously. “Maybe it’s an omen, I may choke to death before I ever finish my book.”
                  “Don’t joke about such things,” he remarked, and seemed genuinely concerned. I
    was touched by the sincerity in his voice.
                  “Don’t worry,” I reassured him, “I really am fine.” I turned and indicated back through the doorway.