Chaste Kiss by Jo Barrett Page B

Clenching her eyes closed, she imagined the feather like caress to be his long slender fingers.
    "We are more than friends, you and I,” he said. “But naught can come of it."
    She opened her eyes and was stunned by what she saw. The same need, the same desire flooding her senses burned in the deep blue depths of his eyes. It couldn't be possible? “You really—you want—” Her voice quivered faintly.
    "I am sorry, sweeting. I should not speak of such things."
    "No, I'm just stunned that you would—I mean, I'm just—me. Plain old Isabel,” she said with a shrug.
    William's brow creased deeply. “You are more than a man could wish for. With emerald eyes that sparkle when you laugh, burgundy tresses, no doubt, as soft as an angel's wing, and curves that would tempt a saint. I could not help but want you, ache to touch you. You will never know how much I wish to inhale your soft fragrance, feel your warm body pressed against mine, and taste the sweetness I know is you."
    He brushed the petals across her trembling lips, and her body quaked with need. She wanted to jump with joy, she wanted to yell from the rooftops, she wanted to—die.
    "There has to be a way,” she whispered, barely finding the breath to say the words.
    He drew the flowers away from her face. “Hold out your hand."
    Isabel did as he instructed, curious as to what he intended. He reached behind his head and tugged at the leather tie binding his hair. The midnight strands fell forward, brushing the upturned collar of his shirt.
    Gorgeous . She swallowed hard at the mental image of his long lean body pressed against hers in a heated moment of pure rapture, her fingers entangled in his hair.
    He carefully placed the strip of leather in her upturned palm, driving the image of their lovemaking from her mind, but only for the moment. She would return to it later in the privacy of her dreams.
    Lowering her eyes, she studied the strap, touching it reverently. “I feel it. I feel the leather. It—what's happening?"
    "'Tis fading. As I would do if I were to touch you."
    "It isn't fair,” she whispered tremulously.
    "Nay, sweeting. ‘Tis not. But ‘tis how it will always be. Oh, sweet Isabel. You should leave this place. Go far away from me and find a man who can hold you. A man who can love you.” His jaw clenched. “And one you can love in return.” He stepped back and glanced toward the house. “I must leave you."
    "Please, don't go."
    William reached out, stopping inches from her cheek. “I am sorry, love, but the chamber bed summons me.” Slowly, he faded away.
    Isabel clenched her now empty hand, the truth more bitter, more painful than she had ever imagined. She could never have him. They could never be together the way a man and woman were meant to be. She had to stop fantasizing about him. The images were too powerful and would eventually tear her apart.
    Oh no, had she fallen in love with him? It would be so easy. He was everything she ever wanted in a man, and he wanted her, but he wasn't a man. He was a ghost with a powerful curse on him. She had to try and give him his freedom, if nothing else.
    Isabel spent a scant few minutes in the garden regaining control over her emotions and focusing on the positive before making her way upstairs. Plastering a smile on her face, she entered the room and glanced around for William.
    "Come out, come out wherever you are,” she trilled, remembering their games of hide-and-go-seek when she was little.
    "I am here, Isabel.” He appeared seated in one of the chairs next to the small table with the chessboard atop it. His long fingers toyed with one of the playing pieces, his mind obviously somewhere else.
    She was a little disappointed he wasn't lounging on the bed, even though it was almost impossible to concentrate when he looked so—edible. Not to mention it only served to remind her of the things that couldn't be. Things she was supposed to be forgetting.
    She turned her thoughts back to what her