He’d had all he could take. His temper was slow to ignite, but when it did, it flamed. He reached out and took hold of her bare arm, just beneath the fluttery little sleeve of her floaty white dress.
And then he froze.
The woman who called herself Mary Anna Cameron might have looked real enough, but Dean knew from the moment he touched her that his entire world, every belief he’d ever held, had just been irrevocably changed.
4
True Love is Like Ghosts,
Which everybody talks about
and few have seen.
—François, Duc de la Rochefoucauld
IT WAS LIKE holding a woman made of marble. Her skin was unnaturally cool and smooth. There was no friction when he moved his fingers, no warmth, no ...life.
She had gone very still, watching him with wide, wary eyes. Because he couldn’t resist, Dean lifted his free hand to touch her face.
She didn’t flinch when he stroked her cheek—her icecold cheek—or when he slid his fingers down to the hollow in her throat, where her pulse should have throbbed.
He felt nothing.
Their gazes locked. Dean couldn’t have spoken, even if he’d known what to say.
It was almost a shock to
hear her voice again. She wasn’t speaking to Dean. “No, Ian, it’s all right,” she said, her tone soothing. “Just give us a minute.”
Somehow, Dean managed to speak. “What are you?” he asked hoarsely.
“I told you,” she said in that same, soothing voice. “I’m Mary Anna Cameron.”
“Mary Anna Cameron died seventy-five years ago.”
Her expressive dark eyes turned sad. “Yes.”
“Then you’re...”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I suppose one could call me a ghost.”
“I don’t ...” His words trailed away.
“...believe in ghosts,” she finished for him. “I know. You’ve said so often enough. But as you see—and feel—I’m here. It’s very odd. No one’s been able to touch me before, though a very few have seen us.”
Us. He looked cautiously around, but still saw nothing more than that scraggly cedar tree. “Your brother is here?”
“Yes.” She nodded toward an apparently empty space beside her. “Right there.”
“Why can’t I see him?”
“We don’t know.” She looked genuinely perplexed. “It doesn’t make sense to us, either.”
“This is crazy,” Dean muttered, shaking his head.
She brushed that useless observation aside. “Dean, we think you can help us. Or at least, I think so. Ian isn’t so sure.”
“Help you? What do you mean?”