Page 7 of Madly Deeply

"Especially that."

Spreag watchedAlexandra take another bite of pie, treasuring how the light caught her ebony curls when movement near an arched doorway caught his attention. Another ghost--a woman in dated clothing—drifted in, her shoulder and puffed sleeve passing smoothly through the bricks. Nothing unusual about that. In his current form, he'd seen plenty of spirits going about their business as if still alive.

But this one headed straight for him. Manners brought him to his feet, and he offered the woman a slight bow.

"The lass can see ye," the spirit said, pointing a wobbly finger at Alexandra. "How is it possible?"

Before he could answer, Alexandra's eyes tracked to the woman's voice. "Spreag? Who said that?"

His chest tightened. It wasn't possible. But there was no denying it--Alexandra had heard the other ghost.

The woman gaped. "She can hear me too!” She lunged halfway across the table before resting her hands on the wood. “Please, I need her help. My grandson--"

"Not now." Spreag growled between his teeth while he studied his wife's face. He'd assumed his own force of will had allowed him to appear to her. But if she could sense other spirits, the power was hers...

“If she has the Sight, she could?—"

"I said not now. Leave us be." When the woman opened her mouth again, he cut her off. “Go!”

Alexandra hid her mouth with her hand. “But Spreag, she sounded like she needed help. Something about her grandson?—”

“Nay, lass. Any grandson of hers died hundreds of years ago. She’s out of her time and doesnae ken. Dinnae fash over it for a second, do ye understand?”

Alexandra sighed loudly, then nodded and went back to her meal. Once the old woman’s form passed back through the arch, he sat again and pondered what had just happened. And just as smoothly as a ghost passing through a brick wall, truths began sliding into place.

He couldn't have passed his Sight to his wife. That kind of gift came from bloodlines, from...

His gaze dropped to the table as if he could see through the wood to Alexandra's middle. And suddenly he knew. Images flashed through his mind--a child with his gifts, with his curse, who would be able to see the future coming.

Before his death, he’d prayed he could leave her with his child. But he never expected to be around long enough to know for certain.

"Spreag?" Alexandra's voice drew him back. "Is something wrong?"

He forced himself to smile, to keep his voice steady. "Nothing, love. Just...thinking about tonight's dinner."

His mind raced. He hadn’t expected to stay on for long. Being haunted by her husband couldn’t be healthy for her, so his intention was only to ease her through her mourning. But how could he leave now?

CHAPTER FIVE

Where the ranch was located north and west of Inverness, Wyndham's house was on the opposite side of town. And though Alex wanted nothing more than to be alone with Spreag and talk until she couldn’t keep her eyes open, there was nothing quite as cheery as a large driveway packed with the cars of good friends.

She parked behind Duncan Houser's truck and took a deep breath.

"Ready?" Spreag asked from the passenger seat.

"As I'll ever be." She glanced at him. "You're sure we want to do this? It might be…awkward."

"Ye need to face the world again, love. Only now, you won’t have to face a house full of former ghosts and their wives entirely on yer own." His eyes crinkled. "Besides, I’d like a gander at their ugly mugs myself."

"What if it takes too much energy?”

“Then I will disappear from sight, but I’ll still be with ye.”

“But you can’t move something to let me know?—”

“Speaking takes energy, aye. But not as much. Dinnae fash, lass. There is every reason to believe I’ll be visible the entire evening as long as I keep my hands off ye.”

They exchanged a long, wistful look that spoke volumes. And though touch was no longer possible, it was a gift to know that he missed their physical connection as much as she did. As a ghost, she had assumed he no longer cared about such things. Now, it was nice knowing he was still the same man he used to be.

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