Elinor Hawthorne has in inherited a house that is haunted by the ghosts of two medieval knights, Basil Manneville and Guy Guiscard. Basil is the man of her dreams, her knight in shining armor. She falls in love with him and he with her. Basil soon realizes she needs to live a normal life, a happy life with a mortal.
A lifetime later fate intervenes. Basil, still in love with Elinor, is told her spirit lives on in a young woman and is given another chance at life to find her.
HEROES LIVE FOREVER
“Did you see a ghost or not?” Elinor asked.
“I don’t know,” Lucy said at last and glanced around the room again. “I’m not sure what I saw.”
A gust of wind ruffled the sheer curtain behind Lucy, the hem brushing her elbow. She screamed and bolted past Elinor, down the stairs.
“It’s only the breeze,” Elinor called after her, but Lucy continued her dash for the kitchen.
Unafraid, Elinor walked around the bedroom. She dragged her hands over the newly plastered walls as she circled the room. It had needed a brighter and fresher look. The paint and repair work on the house was one of the first things she did after inheriting the manor.
Elinor checked the bathroom and second bedroom. Like her bedroom, everything seemed normal. At the top of the stairs, goose bumps suddenly dotted her skin and the hair on her arms stood on end. Weird. She glanced back, but didn’t see anything strange, or more to the point, Lucy’s ghost. She shrugged and continued down.
He turned her around and untied the laces of her dress. His fingers lingered at each sliver of exposed skin the open laces left. The gown fell away from her shoulders and rough palms eased the sleeves down, freeing the arms. He inched the dress over her hips, unwrapping her like a gift, the silk pillowing at her feet like a bronze cloud.
Basil brought his lips to her ear. “I want to make love to you with each of my senses. I want to smell, inhale your scent,” he told her and nuzzled her neck.
She tilted her head to give him full access to her throat.
“The perfume you wear, it is L’interdit, yes?”
“L’interdit.” The word sounded almost holy when he spoke it. “I want to know where on your body the perfume lingers strong and where it grows faint. Here on your neck it is exotic and bold.” He buried his face in her breasts. “Here it is tantalizing but distant.” He knelt again. “I want to feel the intake of your breath when I touch you.”
As he intended, she gasped softly as he dragged his tongue along her abdomen, blowing warm air in its wake.
A man stood a few feet away. At least what was visible looked like a man. He appeared to be a knight, similar to the one in her favorite painting, except semi-transparent. He wore mail and a dark blue surcoat with a leopard embroidered on it in bronze silk. Tall, with shoulder length hair, in the soft lamplight, his eyes were as black as his hair.