Charon's Crossing

"And I don't regret coming here," Kathryn whispered, "because if I hadn't come... if I hadn't..."

He stopped her words with another kiss and, as he kissed her, he knew that he should tell her she was wrong, that coming to this damned place had been the worst mistake of her life.

But she was warm and sweet in his arms. A sudden fierce sensation swept through him. For a moment, he didn't know what it was.

And then he did.

What he felt was joy.

Chapter 15

Joy? He felt joy?

What the hell kind of an emotion was that, for a man like him to feel?

He had no right to any emotions, dammit, except perhaps the rage that had drawn him out of the darkness in the first place.

And he had no right whatsoever to hold this flesh and blood woman in his arms, as he was doing now. Or to want her. Or to exult in the knowledge that she wanted him. Hell, there was no sense being modest about it, she did want him, with the same driving need as his own.

> Well, what was wrong with, that?

Dead though he might be, he had all the bodily urges of a mortal. As for Kathryn... hadn't she told him herself that women of her time weren't troubled by issues of feminine chastity and virtue?

Dammit, it was so simple. All he had to do was kiss her again, lift her into his arms and carry her up the stairs to the bedroom.

It didn't matter that he had no right to her, that she was human and he was whatever in hell he was; that she was betrothed to another man. Nothing mattered, but this driving need to have her.

And, after he'd had her, then what? She would leave the island and he would be alone again, and the loneliness would be more desperate than ever. Images of Kathryn, of a woman and a life he could never have, would torment his mind and heart for the rest of eternity.

Never mind all that, you scurvy bastard. What of her? Doesn't she deserve more than being bedded by the likes of you?

Kathryn stirred in his arms. "Matthew?" she whispered.

He looked into her eyes and he knew, with absolute certainty, what he must do next.

He bent his head, crushed her mouth under his.

"Good-bye, Kathryn," he said.

And he was gone.

* * *

Matthew was gone.

One minute, he'd been holding her in his arms and the next, Kathryn was swaying on her feet, all alone.

At first, she thought it was some kind of joke. A ghostly version of hide-and-seek. But if it was, he'd picked a strange moment for playing the game.

"Matthew?" she said.

There was no answer.

"Matthew, where are you?"

She went from room to room, calling his name.

"This is silly," she said. "I know you're here someplace. Come on out and show yourself."