Chapter Three

"C allum!" His body shook as Sorcha's voice called to him, and when he opened his eyes, she leaned over him, shaking his shoulders and crying. Were those real tears streaming down her cheeks? "Callum! Wake up!"

Gasping, he sat up and clutched at Sorcha, pulling her down atop him as he caught his breath. The familiar musty-floral scent surrounded him, pulling him back into the present. He was still inside the basement, even if he'd somehow transported through her memories. He wasn't sure why he felt this intense need to cling to her other than personally experiencing her final moments and feeling her terror.

"Sorcha…" he croaked as he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her heartbeat against his. "How…"

Silently, Sorcha clung to him. She was real. Her tears soaked through his plain white tee shirt. Her breath fanned his chest. Her heart beat wildly in rhythm with his, and her skin was now warm and soft. "How is this happening? I… felt it."

"Felt what?" she asked, propping herself up with confusion glazing her eyes.

"Your… your death. When I touched ye, I saw it through yer eyes. I felt yer fear. Och, Sorcha." Callum sat up and, overcome by emotion, pulled her into his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and held her while silence surrounded them. She rested her cheek against his chest and curled up so that his chin rested on the top of her head. Her arms curled around his waist.

"It was long ago, Callum. I'm only sorry ye had to experience that. I havenae interacted with another person since that day. I didnae ken touching me would cause such a thing."

Sorrow creased her face, and Callum's stomach twisted as an odd fluttering gripped his belly. The desire to lean in and take her lips with his was strong… too strong.

So, he did. Gripping the back of her neck gently, Callum leaned closer, slowly placing his lips on hers. She audibly swallowed, and her breathing hitched before she gave herself over to his kiss. Her lips were warm and soft, as was all of her. She felt so good in his arms, so right in his lap. He could imagine himself with her, laughing, loving, and sharing memories… then, he realized what he was doing, where they were. Had he been too forward, too aggressive? He pushed away.

"I'm sorry, Sorcha. I dinnae know what came over me."

"Dinnae apologize, or ye shall break my heart," she whispered, looking down at the floor. Her dark lashes fluttered before she spoke again. "I have been so alone. I've watched ye come and go from this place for so long, unable to speak to ye. Unable to tell ye that my heart and stomach hurt whenever ye are near. Now, ye can see me. I can… I am… here ." She looked around the room with wonder as she ran a finger along the wooden floor's grain. "I can feel the world around me for the first time since my death. I dinnae ken why, but ye gave me this gift. Please, Callum, dinnae take it away. I havenae felt the touch of a man. I died before I had such a chance. And I've longed to speak to ye for many moons. Now, ye can see me. Ye can feel me. If this is the only time I shall ever feel yer touch, please dinnae deny me the simple pleasure of it."

Overcome by her plea, Callum pulled her closer as he sat on the floor, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing her with a fever he'd never experienced. He wasn't sure if it was the strangeness of the encounter that drove him wild or simply the beautiful woman in his lap, begging to experience a wee jot of affection before she lost the chance forever. Deep down, Callum knew it was more. So much more. There was something between them that he'd never experience again if she disappeared.

Sorcha simpered and tugged at his hair as his tongue slid into her warm, sweet mouth. If she appeared to him exactly as she had the day she died, then Sorcha had truly been the bonniest lass in all of Pinnata Castra, and he wondered how she could have remained untouched for so long during a time when girls married quite young. Either way, she was here now, solid and whole. She wanted to feel alive, and he'd gladly oblige her.

His cock throbbed painfully in his jeans, but he did his best to ignore it. He'd not push his luck and take advantage of the lass, even if she was technically nothing but a manifestation. To him, she was real, and she deserved his respect.

But when Sorcha began to shift atop him, Callum groaned and pulled away from her lips, trailing his tongue down the creamy column of her throat, nipping her sweet flesh as she wriggled in his arms.

"Callum." She sighed his name, and he clenched his fists into her tunic's fabric to prevent his hands from wandering to her small, perky breasts or even lower beneath her tunic. Lord, he'd never had to use so much restraint. The energy surrounding them crackled in his ears and buzzed through his bones, sending currents of desire through his every cell.

Releasing her tight grip on his shoulders, Sorcha leaned back and looked into his eyes. Her chest rose and fell as she slowly pushed her tunic down her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Callum watched as her nipples puckered, responding to the chill in the room. How was this happening? It may be Samhain, but he'd never thought such a thing was possible.

Sorcha straightened her spine and took a fortifying breath. "I want ye to touch me, Callum."

He wanted to do that more than he'd ever wanted anything in this world. But it didn't feel right. She was untouched by a man. Moreover, she was a ghost. He had to remind himself that she wasn't real, even if she very much was at the moment.

"I… I want to, but I cannae." He shook his head and closed his eyes.

"Is it because I'm dead?"

That made him open his eyes and look at her. "From where I am sitting, Sorcha, ye arenae dead. It's about honor. Ye are untouched by a man. I dinnae want to take advantage."

"When I was alive, I had to fight lads off with a stick. Now, I've found the one man I wish to touch me, and he willnae. Callum, I have been stuck here for… what year is it again?"

"2023."

"I cannae even count that high. How long have I been here, Callum?"

He swallowed hard and felt his stomach tighten as he did the math. "About 1,337 years… approximately."

"Do ye ken what it's like to be stuck in one place that long? Of course, ye dinnae. One has nothing but time to ponder their life, death, and all they never accomplished. One day, ye showed up, and I have never been the same. Callum, ye arnae a stranger to me, and I am not a young lass—not truly. I ken what I want, and I want ye. If this is too hard for ye, I understand. I will leave ye be."

Sorcha began climbing off his lap with dejection in her eyes, and Callum growled in frustration, grabbing onto her tunic skirt to tug her back into his lap. The fabric tore just above her knee, and then her slim, silky legs encircled him as she heaved for breath, making her breasts rise and fall before his gaze.

"Ye cannae know how badly I want ye," he said through gritted teeth. "But then what? Ye disappear, and I'm left with nothing of ye but memories of this moment?"

"Aye," she whispered. "Mayhap tonight is all we have. Perhaps once a year on Samhain, ye will see me again. I cannae say. Does that change anything? I want to feel alive while I can, Callum!" she said with frustration. "I want ye and nobody else!"

He'd heard enough. Gripping the back of Sorcha's neck again, he pulled her in, slashing his lips across hers until she gasped, opening her mouth so he could slip his tongue inside and taste her. She was warm, soft, and womanly in his arms. His hands slid up her smooth arms to cradle her breasts, making her arch into his palms.

When he rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, Sorcha cried out and gripped his shoulders as her hips began to move. He knew exactly what that meant. She wanted more… and he desperately wished to give it, though he wasn't sure how far to take this. Slipping one hand beneath her torn tunic skirt, he sought out her core, swallowing his groan when he felt her slick heat against his finger.

Sorcha mewled against his lips and shifted, seeking his touch. His fingers explored, grazing her nub and making her cry out for more. When her hands slid down his chest and stomach to finally rest on his restrained erection pressing against the front of his jeans, she growled in frustration. "Where is yer trouser string? I dinnae ken how to undo this odd fastener!"

With a chuckle, Callum unbuttoned his jeans and dragged down the zipper, allowing Sorcha to reach in and take him in hand. Her hot palm clenched him, and he groaned as he leaned in to nip at her ear. Dear God, she was a temptress.

"I admit that I dinnae ken what to do next," she whispered as her fingers explored his manhood. "I have never seen a man's…" her voice trailed off, and he saw her cheeks redden.

"Cock?" he asked with a raised brow. She nodded shyly.

"Aye… cock." She giggled as she said the word and something about her innocence only drove him over the edge.

"Are ye certain ye want this?"

"More than anything, Callum. I've wanted ye for so long. Make me feel alive again."

Her plea was genuine, and Callum pushed aside his reservation. Aye, she was a ghost. Dead. Dust. Yet, by some miracle, she was here now in his arms, begging him to give her something no man had ever given her before. On any other day and with any other woman, Callum would refuse. This was madness. Yet, she had appeared to him for a reason. Moreover, he sensed a connection with her on a level deeper than just the flesh. After all, if all that was left of Sorcha was her soul, then it connected with his on a level he simply couldn't explain, and his body reacted to her in a way he'd never experienced.

A powerful sense of possession washed over him as he looked into her eyes, pushed his jeans down to his knees, and slowly guided her down onto his throbbing erection. She slid her arms around his neck as she straddled his lap, though she didn't know what to do, so Callum gently gripped her hips and urged her to move as he pushed deeper into her, careful not to hurt her.

To his surprise, Sorcha sighed and tilted her head back as she got comfortable with the movements, with no sign of pain or discomfort on her face. Only pure pleasure shone in her eyes as her cheeks pinkened, and she gripped his neck.

Callum groaned and slipped his hands beneath her skirts, cupping her backside as she moved against him. She felt more real than any woman he'd ever been with. Responsive, pure, confident, and eager. All of his reservations left as he became caught up in the moment—caught up in making love to a woman who died over 1,300 years ago.

No. He pushed that thought away. He may never see Sorcha again, and that thought stabbed his heart but only made him even more determined to treasure her every movement and breathy sigh.

Leaning in, Callum took her lips with his, slipping his tongue into her mouth as she moaned and moved against him with a heightening fervor that matched his own. For a lass who'd never done this, she had a natural talent that drove Callum to the brink. But he didn't want her first time to end without her finding pleasure, so he slipped a finger between them and stroked her nub, making her gasp and quiver at the new sensation. Within moments, Sorcha cried out and tensed around him, making him reach his boiling point just as she went slack in his arms.

Panting, Callum held her against him, wrapping his arms around her back and pressing her against his heaving chest, terrified she'd disappear into a puff of smoke.

But with each breath, she remained in his arms, her chest rising and falling with his.

"Ye havenae idea how much this meant to me, Callum." Sorcha rested her head on his shoulder and nuzzled into him. The intense need to hold onto her was relentless, but they were still on the hard wooden floors. Callum looked around the room for something to lay upon. Spotting an extra tablecloth sticking out from a nearby box, Callum reached to the side, pulled it out, and carefully laid her down upon it, wrapping his limbs around her, wanting nothing more than to relish this moment.

"Ye arenae going to disappear on me, are ye?" he asked. He wanted it to sound lighthearted, but a sense of dread laced his words. He knew she wouldn't stay—couldn't stay. He wasn't sure how she'd been able to show herself in this manner as it was, but it couldn't last… could it?

"I dinnae want to leave… but I fear I shall. I cannae control it."

A thought came to Callum. "Ye can manipulate yer environment." When she scrunched her nose and lowered her brow in confusion, Callum clarified. "Ye pushed the stool away from the door so I couldnae leave. Ye knew ye could do that."

She shook her head. "I didnae ken I could do that. I never have before. I've never been seen. Never been heard. But when ye heard me, I panicked and kicked the stool away from the door. All I could think about was ye running away in fright after I'd spent 1,300 years alone and invisible. Mayhap, the pure fear of ye running away from me gave me some unexpected strength. I hope ye arenae angry that I trapped ye. I didnae ken the door would lock."

He nodded his understanding. "I am not angry at all, Sorcha. But I was never frightened. I was shocked, confused, and perhaps shaken, but I wouldnae have run from ye. I have seen other spirits. Ye know Anya McLean?"

Sorcha's eyes lit up, and she smiled. "Aye! She was the auld healer in our village. She lived nearly 100 years, rest her soul. She passed away last year. Ye have seen her?"

"Och, she is a well-known spirit in these parts. We see her dressed from many eras. Her soul has lived many lives. I am her descendant."

"And Ronan's," Sorcha added.

"Aye. My family has never lived anywhere else but the surrounding areas." Callum looked at Sorcha and gently scooped a red tendril of hair behind her ear. "I'm going to save ye."

Her eyes widened, and she swallowed. "I dinnae understand."

"In the morning, when I get out of this basement, I am heading for the cave. I will find ye in yer time. And I will save ye."

Sorcha smiled and opened her mouth to respond but paused as terror washed over her features. She gripped his arm and pushed herself up to a seated position. "I… I grow weak. Callum…"

The wooden clock on the wall began to ding, and Callum realized it was midnight. All Hallow's Eve had ended, and her spirit was fading. One…two… Her hand began to fade before his eyes.

"Sorcha!"

Then, she became translucent. Three…four…

"Callum…" she whispered. "I want ye to ken… that I love ye…" Her bright curls dimmed, grew almost pink, and then he could see through her. Five…six…

"I will find ye, Sorcha! I promise! I will save ye!" Seven…eight…

She smiled and put a hand out to him, and her lips formed the words again. Nine…ten… "I love ye," Eleven. No sound came out. The only thing Callum heard was the last strike of the clock. Twelve.

"Sorcha!" He yelled and dove forward.

But Sorcha was gone.