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“Are you sure?”
Elly grinned at her friend. “Sal, I think you’re doing this wrong. You’re a realtor and I’m looking for a house. Your job is to talk me into buying, not out of it.”
Sally, her lifelong buddy and trainee real estate agent, looked dubious. “It’s old.”
Elly let her gaze wander over the deep red bricks of the cottage, which were almost obscured by the climbing white roses. She saw the faded paint on the window frames and doors, the cracked tiles on the roof. None of that mattered. Something about this place called to her, tugged at her. “Imagine it with snow on the roof.”
“I’m imagining the roof collapsing.”
“Just look at those flowers. Whoever heard of roses blooming so close to Christmas?”
“It’s a freaky property. The climbing white roses bloom all year round. The bushes in the front garden don’t bloom at all, ever.”
“Imagine lying in bed and letting the fragrance waft over you.”
“Imagine lying in bed and letting the freezing cold wind waft over you from the cracks in the wall, caused by the climbing roses penetrating the mortar between the bricks.”
“You do realize, Sal, you have no romance in your life.”
“I have plenty of romance in my life. It’s six inches long and comes with batteries.” Sally turned to her. “Are you sure you want to rush into something now? So close to Christmas?”
“Yes. I’ve spent the last twelve months travelling. It’s time to come home.”
“But....” Sally’s words trailed off.
Elly put an arm around her shoulder. “I know it’s the first Christmas without my parents. Life goes on.”
“You’re so brave.”
“No, I’m not. Even after a year. Maybe it’s because I know I’ll see them again one day. You can’t avoid bringing up the subject of Christmas with me. It’s everywhere I look.” She gestured to the fairy lights in the trees and the snowman in the garden next door. “Just because I’m not up to all the festivities this year doesn’t mean everyone else has to suffer.”
“I don’t know why you don’t buy a lovely, new place with the life insurance money.”
“My folks always wanted a country cottage. Maybe, in some way, I’m fulfilling their dream.”
Sally yanked the collar of her coat higher as a chilly breeze flew along the quiet country lane. “You know she died there,” she whispered. “The previous owner, I mean.”
“Miss Hardy was ninety-two years old. She had to die somewhere.”
“Doesn’t it freak you out?”
“Nope, from what I hear, she had a long and happy life.”
“Really?” Sally shivered. “I don’t know where you get that idea. She was a recluse who wouldn’t let anyone inside the house to do repairs or renovations. That’s why it’s so cheap. Did you hear the rumors? Some people say she used to talk to herself, and strange noises came from inside late at night.” Her voice dropped back to a whisper. “Maybe it’s haunted. I heard another rumor, too. They say a witch might have lived here a couple of hundred years ago.”
Elly laughed. “Sal, honey, I think you need to go back to realtor school. Your selling method leaves a lot to be desired.” Her eyes turned once again to the faded beauty of the old home, and her voice was determined. “I want it.”
* * * *
“WATCH THE LAMP,” ELLY called out to the moving man.
With his work-worn shirt hanging over a large stomach, his trousers drooped alarmingly over a pair of what looked like canary-yellow boxer shorts. “Sorry.” He looked back at her with a grin, sidestepping the glass Tiffany lamp to place a box of her kitchenware on the counter.
“Why are you keeping all this stuff?” Sally asked, staggering through the front door, carrying another box and blowing a lock of hair off her forehead.
“It’s my stuff.”
“No, I mean Miss Hardy’s furniture and things.”
Elly glanced around the sunlit room, with its elegant furnishings and photographs on the mantel. She walked over and picked up a silver, gilt-edged frame. “The house came fully furnished. You know that. The furniture is lovely, much nicer than mine. Why shouldn’t I keep it?”
Sally huffed out a breath and dropped the box on a walnut coffee table. “That isn’t furniture.” She gestured to the photo in Elly’s hand.
Elly traced the frame with her finger. “I know. I can’t just throw it away. This was her life, her story.” The black-and-white picture in her hand featured a dark-haired woman in her thirties with sparkling eyes. “Is this Miss Hardy?”
The mover turned, wiping his face on his shirt. Elly tried not to look at the vast expanse of stomach the action revealed. “Yes, that’s her, not that I ever met her. My dad did, though.”
“She’s beautiful. Look, Sal. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Was,” Sally said pragmatically. “She’s dead, and her stuff is now cluttering up your ancient, falling-down house when you should be in a shiny new apartment, bought with your inheritance.” Sally squeezed her friend’s arm. “Sorry. That came out horrid. I didn’t mean to bring up your parents’ death again.”
Elly gave her a warm smile. “Poor Miss Hardy’s death is fine to talk about, I guess?” She put the photo back on the mantel and pulled her friend close for a hug. “It’s fine, Sal. Yes, I miss my folks. The car accident was a dreadful shock, but don’t worry about me. I adore this house.”
Sally peered around the room. “There’s just so much stuff.”
Elly held her at arm’s length and gave her a pitying look. “Says the woman whose house looks like an art gallery, all white with the occasional piece of strategically-placed, tiny designer furniture. Even the most fanatical minimalist would have a burning desire to fill your space with clutter. If it makes you feel better, once I’ve settled in, I’ll have a thorough clean-out. In the meantime, everything is fine where it is.”
Sally gave a delicate shudder. “Fine, live with the chaos. At least you bought a new mattress.” She sidestepped another two workmen, struggling to get the cumbersome object through the cottage’s narrow entrance.
“Watch the lamp!” Elly said. “And the vase and the painting.”
Sally rolled her eyes. “A modern apartment...that’s all I’m saying.”
Elly pulled one of the hand-stitched cushions from the floral couch and threw it at her. “I love you but go home. I’ll ring you tomorrow.”
“I bet you ten bucks the phone doesn’t work. And did I mention this place is a dead zone for cell service?” Sally tossed over her shoulder as she headed to her car.
Elly worked through the afternoon, unpacking and rearranging. Late in the evening, she raised her arms above her head and stretched, groaning as her lower back complained. The heavy, wooden bed, with its brand-new mattress and linens, looked gorgeous in the country-style bedroom. It didn’t matter what Sal thought. Elly loved the cottage and its clutter.
Stripping off her soiled clothing, she padded into the bathroom with its freestanding claw-footed tub. “As inviting as you look, I think a quick shower will suffice for tonight.” Thankfully, a shower attachment had been fixed to the wall over the bath. After some head scratching and fiddling with knobs, she managed to get it to work.
Feeling much less dusty and even more exhausted, Elly pulled out the first item of night-suitable clothing her hands came into contact with in the box marked clothes. She yanked it over her head and collapsed face-first onto the mattress with a groan.
“Under the covers,” she muttered into the pillow. “Under the covers would be better.” Sleep rose up and dragged her under.
Voices invaded her consciousness.
She snuggled into the pillow. Great. Her new home had insomniac neighbors. She should have closed the bedroom window. Her love of fresh air, regardless of temperature, was coming back to haunt her.
“Maîtresse de la nuit.”
Make that French, insomniac neighbors.
“Beauté noire.”
Dark beauty? Elly sleepily translated. Mistress of the night? Wonderful. She had French, insomniac, Goth neighbors. “I’m tired. Please go inside and go to bed.”
The voices stopped for a few seconds, until someone whispered.
“Peut-elle entendre?”
“Of course, I can hear you. I’ll introduce myself in the morning.”
“Parle-elle français?”
“Yes, I speak French.” Elly turned onto her side, groped until she found a pillow, and pulled it over her head.
Her neighbors must have gone in, as the night returned to silence. She breathed out a contented sigh and went back to sleep.
Dreams...Whispered words, erotic suggestions, spoken in French.
Elly moaned as someone talked about oral sex in a particularly exotic way. Someone whispered into her ear, “Je te montrerai les délices...”
I will show you delights.
A tongue flicked over her earlobe. A hand slid along the satin of her nightgown. She shivered. Someone kissed her lips, a feather-light touch, leaving her yearning for more. Fingers trailed along her thigh, creating heat in their wake.
“You wish this?” The words were spoken in accented English.
“Yes.” A hand brushed over her breast, making Elly catch her breath.
“From both?”
Both? Hands stroked her thigh, along her arm, and brushed over a nipple. Too many hands. Elly’s sleep-dazed mind tried to make sense of the sensations. When did my dreams get this hot? “Yes.”
“Bon.” Lips returned to hers, a weight settled against her back, and fingers sank into her hair. The two men in her sexy dream touched her with light strokes, skimming over her skin, above the nightgown.
The dream lover behind her spoke erotic suggestions in French in a low, sensual hum. His hands skimmed across her stomach and along her thigh, gently pulling up the satin gown as he went.
The man in front teased apart her lips until he could gain entrance. Tracing the outline of her mouth with his tongue, tangling it with hers, catching the breaths that escaped her in short gasps.
“Such pleasure we will share this night, Mistress.”
With a hand at her waist, the lover at her back rolled, taking her with him. The sudden change of position was dizzying, and her eyes flew open. She ended up sprawled face up across a wide chest, her head resting in the crook of a muscular neck. Her legs fell apart, draped over his hips, and her arms dropped to the side. She was spread-eagled, with the hard body beneath her forming a new erotic type of mattress. His strong hands kept her in place.
In the pitch darkness of the room, she sensed, rather than saw, the second man rise and take a position at the foot of the bed. She quivered as his hands ran along her parted thighs.
The man holding her steady moved his hands up to grasp her breasts, his fingers softly kneading. Elly moaned, and her lids drifted shut.
He spoke again of sensual imagery hot enough to make her stomach muscles clench.
Kisses began at her calves, working upward. His lips were soft and cool as they travelled along her body, pausing when they reached the juncture of her thighs.
“Belle.”
One single finger traced over the crotch of her satin panties, causing her hips to buck. He repeated the action, over and over, just a tiny gentle stroke, back and forth. Within seconds, the satin was soaked, the scent of her arousal permeating the air.
“Tres belle.” His mouth touched her, his lips nibbling at the satin, and she cried out from the sheer pleasure of it. The man beneath her was aroused. She could feel the ridge of his erection pressing against her buttocks as she lay on top of him. She undulated her hips and his fingers tightened on her breasts, teasing the nipples.
Her head fell backwards, resting on a broad shoulder. The multiple sensations, hands on her thighs, lips and tongue teasing her damp panties, hands kneading her breasts, were almost too much to bear.
The lover between her legs pulled on her clitoris, sucking at it through the soaked satin. Elly’s hips rotated. The bulge of the second man’s erection rubbed and throbbed against her. His fingers pressed her nipples between thumb and forefinger, through the nightgown. She wanted nothing more at the very moment than to be naked.
Fingers trailed across the seam of her panties. “Are you a maiden?”
Maiden? Virgin.
“N-No.” It took three attempts to get the single word out. He pushed aside her panties and inserted one finger inside.
“Oh God, please, yes.”
His lips returned, sucking at the sensitive nub of flesh now free from its satin prison. The man beneath her slid his hands beneath the nightgown to pull gently at her nipples, tugging and releasing in a sensual rhythm that matched her gasps of breath.
A second finger joined the first inside her, slick with her moisture. He withdrew and returned with a tantalizing torturous motion, driving her insane as his mouth nipped and sucked, spinning her higher and higher.
A third finger stretched her quivering muscles until they clenched around him, pulling him deeper. Elly wanted to close her legs, capture him, but she was trapped in her spread-eagled position.
The sucking on her clitoris intensified, drawing a pulsing beat from her body. She twisted and turned, trying to find release, but her two lovers seemed determined to prolong the exquisite torture. Her nipples were so sensitive she raised her own hands to cover his. Instead of pulling his teasing fingers away, she pressed down, encouraging him. His low laughter sounded in her ears as he answered her silent plea, rolling the hard nubs between thumb and forefinger.
The fingers inside her rotated, pressing a spot on her vaginal walls. Pleasure so intense it was almost pain raced through her. Elly had never believed in the G-spot, until that moment, when the world shattered into a million stars, and her cry echoed around the room.
I’m going to pass out, but how can I? It’s a dream.
* * * *
“YOU HAD A WHAT?”
“A wet dream, I told you.”
“A wet dream.” Sally stared at her. “You mean you...you know...in your sleep?”
Elly grinned. “Yes, Sal, I you-knowed in my sleep. I you-knowed so hard I thought I was going to die from it.”
Sally sat back in her chair, her expression one of open-mouthed disbelief, tinged with envy. “Have you ever done that before?”
Elly sipped her coffee. “Nope.”
“Are you sure it happened?”
She raised a brow. “Trust me, Sal, I woke up this morning after the best sleep ever, with a twisted nightgown and soaked knickers. I swear even my nipples were overly sensitive from being tugged on. I tell ya...it was some dream.”
Sally leaned forward again. “What was he like?”
“They.”
“Sorry?”
“They, you mean what were they like.”
“They?” The word came out as a squeak. “Two of them?”
“Yep.”
“What did they look like?”
“I have no idea. The room was pitch black. They were French. Hey, maybe that’s it. My French neighbors woke me up, and let’s face it, I’ve been celibate for way too long. I guess I concocted two French lovers and, you know...you-knowed.” She grinned.
Sally looked confused. “What French neighbors?”
“The ones who were standing outside last night, talking when I was trying to sleep.”
“You don’t have French neighbors.”
“Okay, then, my non-French neighbors had French visitors.”
Sally peered out of the window. “Mr. and Mrs. Teal? I don’t think they’ve ever left England.”
Elly waved her hand. “Oh, well, someone was out there. Do you want to hear about this dream or not?”
Sally blushed, an unusual occurrence. “No, of course not.”
Elly waited.
Sally rested her elbows on the table and held her chin in her hands. “Fine, tell me everything. Leave nothing out.”
A while later Elly crossed back to the table with a fresh pot of tea, as Sally waved a coaster in front of her face. “For goodness’ sake, stop fanning yourself, Sal. It isn’t that raunchy.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re wasted designing webpages. You should be writing naughty books.”
Elly smiled around her cup. “I was reading one the other day. Maybe that’s what put ideas in my head. It’s a good sign, Sal. For the first time since that drunk driver hit my folks’ car, I feel like I’m starting to act normal again. If a sex dream is my brain’s way of telling me to jump back into the dating pool, who am I to complain?”
Sally squeezed her friend’s knee. “I’m glad to have you back, Elly. If this house makes you horny, I might start to actually like it.”
“Speaking of my lovely house,” Elly narrowed her eyes. “Did you find any next of kin for Miss Hardy?”
“Nope.” Sally sat back with a sigh. “I checked all the records. There isn’t a single living relative. She did have a fiancé, a soldier. He died before they could get married. Her will, including the proceeds from the house sale, go to charity. It looks like you’re stuck with all her belongings. I did find out where she died. Not in the house, thank goodness.” Sally gave a delicate shudder. “The people who delivered her meals found her in the back conservatory. They said she looked very peaceful, with a rug over her knees and a white rose sitting on her lap.”
Elly glanced around the room. “I don’t mind keeping her things. I just didn’t want to deprive her family of them. See all the photos? She was a nurse and so beautiful.”
“Yes, she was.” Sally stood. “I have to go. I’m showing a house. By the way, I finally managed to find you an electrician. He’ll come up next week to talk about updating the wiring. Is there anything else I can do?”
She stood and hugged her. “You’re the best friend ever. Once I’m sorted out, we’ll have dinner.”
“On that ancient stove? Good luck.”
“Will you stop disparaging my cottage?” Elly swatted her on the arm. “Or I won’t share any more sexy dreams with you.”
“Oh no, please,” Sally stretched out the word. “Please share your sexy dreams with me. If I stay single too much longer, I’ll need rechargeable batteries for my vibrator. At least you’re getting action, even if it’s in your head.”
Elly laughed as she showed her to the door.
* * * *
STILL CHUCKLING THAT night, she ran her hands through the bubble-filled water of the clawfoot tub. Sal was outrageous. That’s what made her special. Her friend had been a cornerstone in the year since her parents’ death. “She healed me.” Elly spoke to the room. “I believe this house is healing me too.”
Sinking into the water with a deep sigh, she stretched out, luxuriating in the warmth. Various creaks and groans broke the silence of the evening, the old house stretching and flexing. Elly let her thoughts drift back to the previous night of hands on her skin and lips nibbling on her most sensitive flesh. Her own hands drifted over her breasts, the slippery water turning the action into a sensual caress. Her soapy fingers trailed lower, over her stomach and thighs. She hummed as she let her legs fall open and gently stroked.
A jaw-cracking yawn startled her. Time had passed, and she was sinking lower in the water. Pulling her exploring fingers away, she sat up with reluctance. “Web designer drowns in bathtub whilst masturbating. Yeah, Elly, great epitaph.”
Drying herself briskly with one of her new giant fluffy towels, she rubbed her hair until it sat in damp, messy curls then padded naked to the solid wood dressing table. A short black nightgown sat on top and Elly pulled it over her head, shivering with a sigh as it settled on her skin. She reached for the matching panties, paused, and on impulse, returned them to the drawer. “Step one in the sexy rebirth of Eloisa ‘Elly’ Waters. No knickers in bed.”
Snuggling under the covers, she let her fingers wander down her body again, contemplated continuing her play. Another yawn interrupted her. Elly sighed and burrowed into her pillow instead. Sleep. I need sleep. Who knows, maybe I’ll get action in my dreams. On that thought, weariness claimed her and sent her tumbling into slumber.
Something tickled her face. She muttered a sleepy complaint and brushed it aside. It returned, touching her cheek, leaving a light, heady fragrance in its wake.
“A night blooming rose does not compare to the softness of your skin or its scent, ma belle.”
The petals of the rose touched her mouth, swept over her lips. The delicate sensation made her shudder. Soft lips replaced the petals, nibbling until she parted hers and allowed the questing tongue to tangle with hers.
“You taste like snowflakes wherever I kiss you, here.” His tongue swept over her mouth again. “And here.” Fingers slid into the slick folds between her legs.
Elly arched her back, coming into contact with a firm body behind her. The second man kissed her shoulder, pushing aside the shoestring strap of her nightgown.
“Why do I keep dreaming like this?” She murmured the words.
“Because you need at this moment to see it as a dream. Do you wish to play, beautiful Mistress?”
“Yes, oh, God yes.”
Low, sexy laughter surrounded her before the lover at her back caught her under her arms and lifted her until she was sitting between his legs, her back to his chest. He rested against the headboard. She nestled into his body, the fine wool of his trousers tickling her as his drawn-up knees cradled and held her in position. Elly dropped her head back into the crook of his neck. He made a soft sound of pleasure. The room was once again pitch black, and as before, she sensed, rather than saw, the other man move on the bed until he sat in front of her.
The dream lover supporting her tugged down the strap of the nightgown until it fell. He lifted her own hand and placed it on her breast, covering it with his. “Did you enjoy doing this, my beautiful one, as you sat in your bath?”
“Yes.”
He lifted her other hand and moved it between her legs, using her own fingers to stroke herself, but controlling the speed and pressure. “And this?”
Elly’s breath hitched. “Yes.”
“Why did you stop?”
“I thought I might drown.”
The deep, sexy laughter turned her on as much as her fingers stroking over her wet folds. Her nipples tightened, pushing into her palm like a hard pebble.
He moved her hand down, pushed on her index finger until it slipped inside her passage. “I love that you are bare here, sleek and naked. Feel how wet you are, feel the contractions of your muscles, and savor the sensations of pleasure.”
His finger joined hers, pushing against her vaginal walls. Her inner muscles clenched.
He moved again, pulling back until her fingers, slick with her arousal, brushed over the clitoris. Elly tried to move faster, but he stilled her hand. “Do not rush the enjoyment.” He pressed the hand at her breast, repositioning her fingers until she rolled the nipple between the thumb and forefinger.
The heavy curtains moved at that moment, catching the chilly breeze coming through the open window. A shaft of pale moonlight covered the bed, highlighting the man kneeling before her, still and silent.
“Are you watching me?”
“Oui.” He used the rose in his hand and trailed it over her ankle, up along her calf.
“Does it excite you to watch me?”
“Oui.” His voice dipped in pitch. “Does it excite you to have me watch?”
“Oui.” A low chuckle of sensual laughter came from both men at her French answer.
The lover controlling her movements slid her finger back inside her. Elly moaned. The smooth petals of the rose ran along her skin, moving up and down her legs. As her fingers were drawn back to press against her hard nub again, the petals brushed her inner thigh, then swept along her folds. The delicate touch, so soft, made her whole body shudder with sensation.
Again and again, the petals touched her, and she touched herself, her fingers drenched in her body’s arousal.
His fingers closed over hers on her breast, pressing the nipple, tugging on it. At the same time, he increased the pressure between her legs, rubbing and rotating until the heated burning started in her toes, working upwards. It hit her with the force of a thousand suns, pulling a cry from her mouth and almost violent spasms from her body.
He pushed her fingers inside, so she could feel the rapid contractions. The added sensation made her moan and shudder anew.
Delicate rose petals ran along her thigh, leaving behind a cool trail as the moisture on the bloom, captured from her body, dampened her skin.
She lay, nestled against the wide chest, quivering in the aftermath of exquisite pleasure. The second man moved up the bed to place a soft kiss on her mouth. “Sleep, ma belle, and dream of us.”
“I’m already dreaming,” she murmured, closing her eyes as they stroked her skin, gentle petting caresses, soothing her as she drifted on a sea of sated calm.
* * * *
ELLY WOKE AND SAT UP, pushing dark curls out of her eyes. The blankets fell to her lap. Full sunlight came through a crack in the curtains, and she squinted against the invasion. One of her straps slipped off her shoulder. She tugged it up automatically. Strong, tender fingers moving the strap aside. Elly’s nipples responded immediately, pushing against the slippery satin. Her thighs clenched, and she rubbed them together. “Wow, seriously wow. Maybe Sal’s right. Maybe I should take up writing erotica as a second career.”
She flopped back to the bed with a sigh, only to jerk up again, a squeak torn from her lips when something brushed her cheek. Spider? She saw instead a perfect white rose, like the ones clinging to the house. With trembling fingers, she picked up the bloom. Lifting it to her face, she inhaled the delicate scent, overlaid with something else, a hint of musk.
Soft petals brushing against her wet folds.
Elly peered around the room, a shiver running up her spine. What’s happening to me?
She pushed aside the covers and stood. Think, think. She’d picked roses from the conservatory the previous afternoon after Sal had left and put them in a vase on the dining table. Maybe she’d brought one into the bedroom.
And put it between my legs?
Elly shook her head. She’d been distracted when she’d run the bath, thinking about her need for updated wiring and mind-blowing orgasms. She must have brought one of the roses into the bedroom without even realizing it. She was imagining the musky scent of her arousal clinging to the petals because of her dream, and the fact that she was soaking wet. God, the whole room probably smelt like sex.
Miss Hardy was found dead in the conservatory with a white rose in her lap.
“Stop it, Elly. You’re being silly. Your wet dreams are frying your brain.” She stood in the bathroom, with her hands on the vanity, and stared at her reflection. She concentrated on her features. Her dark hair was a tangled mass of unruly curls from being slept on. Her face was pale, her blue eyes were huge and wary.
“Let’s think about this logically. What are the options? Option one. Two men broke into your house two nights in a row, fulfilled all your sexual fantasies, including touching you up with rose petals, then left.” Elly glanced back at the bedroom window. “Okay, note to self, sleep with the window shut, just in case. Option two. You are going nuts, one mind-blowing orgasm at a time. Not a bad way to go. Option three. You brought the stupid rose into the bedroom with you and just forgot. Option four—let’s just put this out there—you’re being haunted by two highly-sexed ghosts.”
Elly chuckled at her reflection and screamed as something moved behind her.
Spinning around, she banged her knee on the solid bathtub and cried out in pain. Stumbling from the bathroom, she grabbed her can of deodorant and held it in front of her like pepper spray. “Where are you? Come out now or I’ll fire....”
A rapid flow of urgent French came from her left. She cried out again, spinning to the noise and pressing the nozzle. A high-speed mist of fragrant spray coated the two men standing in front of her. The feeble attempt at defense achieved nothing.
The men were transparent.
For the first time in her life, Elly fainted.
* * * *
“EST-ELLE BLESSE!”
“Peut-être s’est-elle cognée sa tête?”
Elly moaned. “I’m not hurt, and I didn’t hit my head. Can you speak more slowly and in English? My French skills deteriorate when I’m in pain.”
“Pardon...sorry, English. You frightened us.”
Her eyes snapped open. “I frightened you?” She scrambled backwards. “You....” She swallowed. “You’re...dead.”
She hadn’t imagined it. Two men knelt on the floor beside her. Two drop-dead gorgeous men, no pun intended. One blond and one dark-haired, they were dressed in some sort of period costumes. Regency, if she had to take a guess. It appeared as if they were standing behind a film of gossamer-thin material, giving them an unusual translucent look.
“Eloisa, please....” the blond man said.
Elly scrambled backward a few more feet. “How do you know my name?”
“You talk to yourself,” he replied with an elegant, one-shouldered shrug.
“Oh, right, yes I do, but that doesn’t excuse the fact you’re dead.”
The dark-haired man, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Eloisa, yes, you are correct. We mean you no harm. We are always here. You are seeing us now because you needed to.”
Having the dead theory confirmed snapped Elly out of her shock. “Ghosts don’t exist.”
A hint of a smile tilted the blond man’s mouth. “I thought that too, until I became one.”
“What do you mean I’m only seeing you now because I need to?”
“We are here for you, Eloisa. We came in the night because you wished desire. We appear now because you are experiencing fear. We needed to put that fear to rest.”
“What do you mean you’re here for me?” Am I repeating myself?
“It is the curse.”
“I’m cursed?” Her words came out as a high pitched squeak.
“No, we are.”
He tried to continue. Elly put up her hands to stop him. She rose shakily to her feet, stepped backwards until her knees hit the bed, then sat down.
“You’re cursed.”
“Oui, sorry, I mean yes. May we introduce ourselves?”
One of you has had your tongue inside me, and the other made me masturbate myself to orgasm last night...so yeah, why not do introductions? “Yes, please.”
“I am Anton,” the dark-haired man said. “This is Phillipe.”
The blond man gave a deep, regal bow. His shoulders were broader than Anton’s. Okay, you were behind me, Anton in front. Oh, goody, so glad I got that sorted.
“Who cursed you?”
“The woman who owned this cottage during our lifetime,” Anton said.
“Why? What did you do?”
Phillipe answered her. “We seduced her daughter, Mary.”
“Against her will?”
Both men looked affronted. “Certainly not,” Anton said. “Mary worked at the local tavern. Her favors were given freely with the greatest of pleasure, and not just to us.”
“Did all her lovers become cursed?”
Phillipe shrugged. “I do not know. I suspect in our case it was simply bad luck. Our carriage overturned near this house when we were returning home after spending an evening with Mary. Anton and I were severely injured, near death. Her mother came up to us while we lay on the ground, told us we would never rest, as punishment for deflowering her only child.”
“Did you deflower her?”
“No, I believe her mother was disapproving of Mary’s love of life and uninhibited, passionate nature. She sought vengeance on someone. We were available, so to speak.”
“You’re trapped here?”
“Yes.” Both men replied at once.
“To do the bidding on, did I just say on? I mean of the woman who lives here?”
“Yes, first Alicia and now you.”
“Alicia?”
“Miss Hardy.” Phillipe said.
Elly’s mouth dropped open. “You were her lovers? She was ninety-two.”
Anton chuckled. Elly remembered that chuckle from the night. “Not always, Eloisa.”
“Oh, right.” Elly blushed. Sal told her Miss Hardy lived in the cottage for over seventy years.
Phillipe took a step towards her. “We came to you, Eloisa, because you wished it. Nothing will ever happen to you without your permission or your desire.”
Elly looked from one to the other. “No offense, but you look a little...insubstantial. I remember you being,”––she blushed again—“firmer.”
“We become corporeal with the rising of the moon. We are in this form in the daylight hours.”
“Really?” Yes, really. I’m having a conversation with two ghosts cursed to be slaves to the woman of this house...sex slaves, if I so desire.
“Oui, Eloisa.”
“So, I can’t touch you now?”
“You may try.” Anton approached the bed. Elly put her hand out to touch his arm. It felt odd, like a cushion of air, a soft feeling of vague substance.
“That’s very strange.”
“I am very sorry.” Something twinkled in his eyes.
“Are you teasing me?”
“Only because you desire it.”
She tilted her head. “I’ve never had two men in my bed before.”
“Would you prefer only one? You may choose.”
“You would do that?”
“We are here to–”
“See to my desires, do my bidding, yes, I’m getting that. What if I want you to go away?”
She detected sadness in the eyes of both men. “If you make such a choice, we would leave you in peace,” Phillipe said. “You would not see or hear us again. We would linger in this house until someone else comes. Is that what you wish?”
A sliver of sympathy shot through Elly’s heart. “No, it isn’t what I wish.”
Anton gave her such a beaming smile her toes tingled and other bits as well. “So, we may stay? To give you pleasure in the night? And our company during the day?”
“I...I mean, of course I....” What on earth am I doing? “I’m going to take a shower.” Rising from the bed, she backed carefully towards the door, ducking inside and leaning against the solid wood. “You can’t do this, Elly. It’s insane.”
“Are you speaking to us? Shall we come inside the room with you?”
She jumped. “No. I mean, no, thank you. Stay there, I’ll be back in a minute.” She tore off the nightgown and stepped in the shower, keeping an eye on the door.
Tying a robe around her waist, she peeked into the room a short time later. Both men stood by the window. “Did you watch me shower?”
“No,” Phillipe said.
“Anton?” she asked when he didn’t respond.
“Not this time, Eloisa. If you wish it, I would be willing to provide the service.”
“Um, thank you, but probably no. I’m going to the kitchen now.” They walked behind her, and she turned to glance at them. “This is a little odd. You sort of glide.”
“It is only that you cannot hear our footsteps. You will become accustomed to it.”
Elly made herself cereal and sat at the dining table. “Tell me I’m not going insane.”
“I do not know if you are going insane.” Anton tilted his head, a mischievous look in his eye. “We are, in fact, standing before you, if that is what you are asking.”
She chewed her cereal and watched them. “Tell me, again. The two of you and Miss Hardy were lovers.”
“Yes,” both men responded. “We were the lovers of Alicia, not each other,” Phillipe added. “Alicia was the most graceful and wonderful of women. We miss her.”
Elly nibbled on her lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way. She was ninety-two when she died, so I’m guessing it was a long time without any...nighttime naughtiness.”
Anton lifted a brow and gave her a steady look. “Do not assume love is only for the young. Of course, ultimately her passion waned, but our friendship remained. We would sit, in the conservatory, or in here, and talk and listen to music. She loved to hear stories about our lives, to talk about the man she loved and lost so long ago.”
“The soldier,” Elly murmured. “Were you with her when she died?”
“Yes.” Phillipe’s eyes held a genuine sorrow. “She was reunited with her solider. The look upon her face was one of elation. She had never appeared so beautiful.”
“You know that for a fact? That they were reunited?”
“We do.” Anton told her. “It was her wish, and it became so.”
“I’m glad. My parents have passed away. It’d be wonderful to think I’d see them again one day.”
“You wish this?” Anton asked.
“Of course. Anyone would.”
“Of course.” Phillipe echoed her words. “Anyone would.” He looked away, but not before she saw something in his eyes. Sorrow? Regret? Elly glanced at Anton, but he too had turned away from her.
The doorbell rang, startling her. In between one blink and the next, the men disappeared.
“Hi,” Sally said as she opened the door. “Why aren’t you dressed? I thought we were going shopping for groceries. Oh my God, did you sleep in? Did you have another one of those dreams?”
“A dream?” Elly told her with the utmost honesty. “Nope, not a dream. Give me five minutes and we’ll go. Remember, you promised to help me clean the kitchen cupboards too.”