The Caldwell Ghost (3 page)

I lay back against Simon as he loosened his grip
-- only slightly; if he had released me I would have fallen. I was shaking. He inclined his head so it rested on me, chest heaving with desperate breaths.

When I opened my eyes, the fire burned brightly in the grate, the candles shed their merry glow and, in the mirror, the
painting of Randolph, Lord Caldwell was no more than a simple picture.

I will not
detail the rest of that night. Simon's care and consideration after intercourse were as remarkable as his forcefulness during the act (a trait which I enjoyed considerably, then and in the years that followed). He tended to me with an absurd attentiveness that moved and charmed me beyond words, until I was ready to walk the house with him to check for any evidence of further haunting, an exploration that ended inevitably in my bedroom.

I am pleased to report that t
he only moans and screams that disturbed the silence of Caldwell Place that night were mine.

The following month I resigned my staff post on the newspaper and entered
into my new life as Simon's colleague, friend, and lover.

The ghost never returned, its story concluded that frantic
evening. Simon called it a case of two centuries'
coitus interruptus
. One can only sympathise.

END.

The Caldwell Ghost

Copyright © 20
13 by KJ Charles

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Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / October 2013

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