Page 10 of Madly Deeply

Like newlyweds. Like they all were.

It was difficult not to be jealous of Shug and his red-haired wife. Wren came with a ready-made family. Three children, Charlie, Isobelle, and Maddox. Though the couplewere complete opposites—Shug the tallest of this bunch, and the largest, and Wren a delicate thing who didn’t seem sturdy enough for farm life. His colorful Buchanan plaid of yellow, red and green suited his outspoken personality.

Alex didn’t know if they were even aware of how often they touched each other in passing. It was like watching two blind people always reaching out to ground themselves in their surroundings—if their surroundings were each other.

A brief brush of fingertips to fingertips, the quick squeeze of a hand. A loving stroke down her arm as he headed into the kitchen. The way they leaned against each other if they happened to be standing still in the same vicinity. It was precious. And it broke her heart each time she saw those magic sparks ignite between their touchpoints.

Because she used to have that.

For a year, she and Spreag had that.

Then there was Wyndham and Bronagh. If anyone was going to appreciate Alex’s dilemma, it was always going to be Bronagh. The woman had nearly gone crazy trying to reconcile the fact that the mortal hottie she called Wyn was actually her ghost muse from Culloden’s battlefield come to life. Maybe if he hadn’t cut his dark blond hair or shaved off his grizzled beard, she would have recognized him right away.

Bronagh had the same coloring as Meg, but her black hair was longer, and she wore bangs. She was as practical as Wyndham was Idealistic. If you needed someone to indulge in an idea, it was the man in the portrait.

It was Wyndham who would support the idea of her taking Spreag home to Arizona, if only she were sure his spirit could leave Scotland…

The strainof trying to ignore the handsome but ghostly man she loved finally grew to be too much for Alexandra. "Excuse me," she said, and rose to her feet. "Just need to use the loo."

She felt their concerned gazes follow her down the hall. As soon as she closed the bathroom door, Spreag materialized beside her. She turned on the faucet to cover her voice.

"That was getting uncomfortable," she said.

"Aye. Though ye handled it well enough."

"Did I?" She leaned against the sink. "It was killing me not to look at you. I didn’t want you wasting all that energy for nothing."

"I noticed." His eyes crinkled. "I thought I might bite my tongue clean off trying to keep my comments to myself. Though I have to say, it was lovely hearin’ ye laugh again."

"It felt good too.” Then her smile faltered. "What are we going to do? I can't keep pretending you're not here. And I can't stay in Scotland forever, hiding in my hotel room."

"What do ye want to do?"

She straightened. "I want to go home. Back to teaching, back to our house in Arizona." She met his eyes in the mirror. "With you."

"Even if I'm just a ghost?"

"Even if."

A whisper outside the door made her jump. "Alexandra?" Bronagh called. "Are you alright in there?"

She took a deep breath, opened the door, and found not just Bronagh, but the entire dinner party gathered in the hallway with serious concern on every face.

They'd heard every word.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Alexandra lifted her chin. "You know what? I've made a decision. I'm going home." She looked at each of them in turn. "Back to Arizona, back to teaching."

Wyndham lifted his hands to interrupt her. "Alexandra--"

"That is," she continued, "if you all can help me figure out how to get a ghost on an airplane."

CHAPTER SIX

The tension that followed was like an over-inflated balloon about to pop. Alexandra lifted her chin higher, refusing to look away from their stunned faces. Spreag stood beside her, his defiant expression visible to no one else.

"I know it sounds crazy," she said. "But--"

"Ye can see him?" Bronagh leaned forward, her artist's eyes searching the space around Alexandra. "Like I could see Wyndham?"

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