Chapter Two

M agnolia Montgomery spun around on her heel and searched the air for the thing that had gone through her and left her shaking. She hugged herself, shivering against the biting cold he left behind. It covered him in icy chains. She felt the weight of it all. The danger of the hatred and unforgiveness of what remained of his heart, seeped deep within her.

Her teeth chattered.

The Ghost of Graven. She knew of him. She'd been raised in the States but she'd been hearing of him for the last six years since she moved back to England. He was believed to be Lord Oliver Gracehaven, Earl of Harwich, husband of Lady Eleanor Montgomery, Maggie's great-grandmother, six times removed.

Normally, Maggie found no interest in such fancy tales. But when it had become known to her that she was the only living descendant of Lady Eleanor, thereby granting her title and ownership of Graven Fortress, she dedicated her life to learning everything about it, including about its ominous ghost.

She had no idea why she had been able to see him earlier. She'd never seen a spirit before. She believed that what she felt and smelled while he went through her was an illusion meant to frighten her. She would have either fainted or wept for such a sorry soul. She might have offered him her sympathy if he hadn't intruded on her like a virus. What right did he have to barge through her, to go where no other man, or any human for that matter, had gone, and without her consent? Why had he done it? It was like the most extraordinary kind of intimacy. It left her wanting to feel it again. It angered her for the same reason. She glared up at the sky, then below to the sea. He was somewhere.

Bastard.

"Miss Montgomery?" She almost stumbled as she turned around. It was the foreman, Dave. "Are you all right?"

She nodded and managed a smile, then stepped around him to head back inside. She was shaken to her core, and she felt…wet. She shivered and wiped her hands over herself as if something unwanted covered her.

She hurried down the stairs with Dave the foreman chasing behind her.

When she reached the first landing, she paused, seeing at least fifteen men carrying ladders and various heavy tools filing into the broken-down hall.

"Those are the carpenters," Dave informed her from behind. "Over there, are the electricians, and the masons are outside setting up the scaffolding."

She was going to be here for the next three months with that ghoul. It was all she could think about. Though Graven technically belonged to her, because of the number of generations that had passed, there was no proof besides the claim of a mysterious person known as T. Ashmore that they would deliver birth records from over a dozen centuries proving that Maggie was Eleanor's relative. The fortress was placed in trust. That's when she returned to England, proved her citizenship and landed a job at Essex Trust.

The restoration of Graven Fortress was her project. She'd worked hard and tirelessly to see this endeavor through. She'd fought for the grant, built an online site where people could donate funds with incentives. She trudged over the city applying for all the licenses she needed. And that was all before the grant came through and she had to hire everyone. She was exhausted but elated to see all her hard work coming to fruition. Her heightened mood had to be the reason she'd seen a gorgeous, vampire-looking guy working hard to get her to leave, to give up on Graven. Never.

She looked up the stairs behind her. Soon, the repairs would begin and the stairs would be cut off. Would the Ghost of Graven leave the battlements and enter the fortress to haunt her—haunt everyone? Work would never get finished.

She'd read about all the failed attempts at restoration due to workmen and -women quitting soon into starting, claiming a ghost threatened to kill them.

She stomped her foot. He better not come down here and try to scare everyone. Sure, she was afraid of him at first but she'd stopped being afraid when she realized he might truly be real and planned on scaring her men away.

"There she is!" Henry Hyde, who'd been with her on the battlements first, hurried forward, followed by four other men. Henry was the senior head manager at Essex Trust and had insisted on overseeing this project, his reasons more than professional. But Maggie didn't care if he was on the project or if he wanted to ask her out. She would decline. Everyone in the office knew Maggie didn't date. She'd been dubbed The Frozen Flower of Essex. If Henry thought he was any different, he'd be severely disappointed.

"Tell them you saw the Ghost of Graven," Henry urged, reaching her.

"I'm not sure what I saw," Maggie let him know.

"What?" Henry's expression faltered. "You told me you saw him. I saw him too," he let her know. "He was swollen and his skin had gaping holes in it from being eaten by fish and—"

"Enough," Maggie scolded, holding up her palms. "There are no such things as ghosts—and even if there is, he's not going to take Graven from me."

She moved around Henry and almost stepped right through the brooding apparition from the battlements. So then, he wasn't confined to the wall.

His arms were crossed over his chest while he dripped water on the floor around him.

She looked up at his face, into his eyes. She knew she shouldn't have. She was afraid to see the dark rage that filled him, but he only stared at her with lavender eyes. Or were they blue? They pierced through her as deeply as his body had. She looked away and walked around him, pretending he wasn't there. The last thing she wanted was for the men to see her interacting with a dead guy. They'd all quit.

She had to stop short again to avoid walking through the slightly transparent spirit blocking her path again. "Leave me alone," she warned in a hushed whisper between her teeth. She waved her hand in front of her, swatting at the air. "Flies," she explained when she noticed the men watching her.

A box to her left slid across the floor as though it had been kicked. Everyone looked at it.

"The rumors about this place are true," one of the men said and backed away.

"The Ghost of Graven hates intruders," someone else whimpered.

"It's the wind," Maggie said calmly. "Get a hold of yourselves. I'm not paying you to stand around shivering in fear."

The ghost stared at her and then gave her the slightest smile. It was unnerving that she was finding the Ghost of Graven so starkly handsome. She took in the full sight of him standing in the foyer, droplets of water glistening on his pale face, in his jet-black hair. He wore a black shirt with a high neck. Chain shoulder shields dripped over his shoulders, and his hands were covered in heavy-looking gauntlets. No, just one hand was covered. The right gauntlet was missing. She swallowed. She knew where it was. It had been handed over to her by the Trust, along with a number of other artifacts a week ago.

Maggie knew the Ghost of Graven was Lady Eleanor Montgomery's husband. Maybe he could help her prove to all the doubters that her grandmother was indeed innocent—his wife hadn't killed him. But Maggie remembered his rage when she mentioned him killing himself.

But if he hadn't leaped to his death, then did that mean her grandmother had killed him for certain? No. Maggie chided herself and continued on toward the fortress doors. She didn't want to believe that besides the monster in her family, aka, her mother, there was also a murderer. No. If Lady Eleanor was guilty then Maggie would not have been given Graven Fortress. Maggie raked her scorching gaze over him and then left.

When she stepped outside, she was hit with the harsh rays and heat of the sun. A familiar sense of the tortures of hell filled her. She almost turned to race back inside, but she heard the door being bolted shut on the other side. Was it real, or had she imagined it?

She looked around, not knowing for an eternal moment what to do next. The stone masons were measuring and cutting while the carpenters and electricians left the fortress and then returned. Everything went on just fine without her. It didn't matter if she was here, or not.

Her mother's words echoed through her mind. Who would care if you disappeared, Magnolia? You're nothing but trouble and will always bring trouble to our doorstep. So why don't you just go? Get out! Get out!

Maggie had been twelve when her mother had kicked her out. Stepping out of doors had always been difficult after that. Miraculously, she'd survived alone on the streets until Thomas Black, a kind old man in a long coat, a narrow-brimmed cap, and a neatly trimmed mustache and beard, took her off the street and paid for her private education. She loved the man she came to know as Grandpa B, until a guy she was dating from college broke into their house with the intention of robbing them and ended up killing her grandfather. How could she ever trust anyone again? She tried, but carrying around mistrust was toxic and soon destroyed everything she had. When she learned about Graven Fortress belonging to her, she committed herself to the fortress alone.

She thought finally getting ready to begin the restoration would make her happy, but the Ghost of Graven was real. He was very pissed off, and he was ruining everything. She was well-informed on how the ghost used fear and terror to chase everyone away. She remembered Henry claiming to have seen a hideous, rotting corpse. How would she keep her workers safe from him?

She shook her head clearing her unwanted thoughts while the hot sun beat down on her. When she turned away from the fortress, she saw him. He'd followed her outside. Just how far from the fortress could he go? Could he follow her home?

He stood off to the side, transparent at first, then becoming almost solid in appearance. His raven hair grew as dark as shadows against his pale complexion. Was he real? Why could she see him? He stood tall on long, muscular legs draped in hose. She'd seen him in the hall, dark and dangerous in his chain mail and gauntlet, but under the light of the sun, he appeared more ethereal. Though he looked solid, she knew he was made of nothing. She'd reached for him when she was falling and also swatted him away when he came rushing at her, but both times her hands went through him.

Now, if she looked carefully enough, she could see the sun's rays going through him, saturating the air in tiny specks of gold.

Should she ignore him? How could she? He was bone-meltingly beautiful. No. She couldn't ignore him. Besides, he would just keep following her around.

"What is it?" she called out to him, then went to him. "Do you want to tell me something? Like, get out? Because I'm not going, and neither are the men. So, you better leave us alone."

He stared at her with a murderous, somewhat surprised glare. She would admit he could certainly look ominous. But the water droplets seemingly eternally dripping down his face were more heart wrenching than scary. How ever he died, the fact was that he perished in the dark depths of the sea. Why and how had he returned as a ghost? Was hatred and revenge his driving force? She felt compassion for him. She had the insane urge to reach out and wipe them from his brow. She didn't move. Why could she see him? She didn't want to see him.

"Look," she tried. Could one reason with an angry ghost? "I'm just trying to restore this place to its former glory. "Don't you want that?"

He opened his mouth and a vein in his neck bulged. She imagined he was shouting. She turned her ear directly to him and strained to hear.

At first she heard nothing. Then, a soft buzzing, like a bug. She should have stopped listening, but soon the sound became clearer, deeper, more dangerous.

"…a Montgomery! There can be no glory with you here. I'm warning you, I won't remain patient for long."

Huh? She stared at him. She had heard him! "I won't cause those men to lose their minds if you get them out now." His eyes scanned the workers in the courtyard, then came to rest on her. "Your mind won't be so fortunate though."

Great. Now she could hear him. She covered her forehead with her palm. Why was this happening? Was she sabotaging her dream by having hallucinations?

"Oliver Gracehaven, I presume," she said, more like an accusation than a fact. Judging from the way he hated Montgomerys, he wouldn't be of any help in clearing Eleanor Montgomery's name. "You keep threatening me and I'll stay for a year."

His smile was chilling and starkly malevolent. "You might even remain for the next millennium."

What kind of threat was that? She felt her blood run cold. Could he trap her spirit? No, she wouldn't let him scare her. She scowled and stepped forward. "And you might be evicted out of here by the next priest I find."

Did his snarl turn soft for the barest moment? She was sure she'd seen it. Amusement. Humor. And then surprise and shock.

"You can hear me?" he asked in a deep voice that resonated through her. His beautiful eyes widened when she nodded. "How?"

"I don't know," she told him. "I just tried to listen harder."

Something about the way he swallowed…the way his gaze took her in—like the longing look of a soldier when he thinks of home. Then he flicked his gaze off her and turned away to scoff and shake his head.

"I don't like it any more than you do," she let him know, folding her arms across her chest.

"I'm certain it doesn't come close to how much I dislike it," he countered. "Of all the people through time, a Montgomery is the one who can see and hear me."

"And what's wrong with that?"

Clouds formed in his eyes. "I hate Montgomerys."

Her scowl grew darker. There went him helping to prove Lady Eleanor's innocence. "For a dead guy, you're still pretty immature."

Her insult washed off him as if it were made of the water dripping off him. "I don't care what you think of me."

"Is that so?" She raised an auburn brow. "Well then, tell me, why did you throw yourself over the wall when you believed your wife betrayed you?"

She knew it would get him angry and it worked. His expression grew dark—or was it the atmosphere that had darkened? He glared at her for a moment, and then turned toward the fortress and the masons working.

She watched in horror as he swooshed toward the men and then wove between them. Maggie didn't know what they were seeing, but judging by the way they dropped their tools and took off toward their trucks, it wasn't good.