Page 75 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

‘It doesn’t matter when I did it, it just matters that you read it.’

Kate looked up quickly. The girl was so faint, she could barely make her out. Her dimples dipped in and out as she smiled. She had an armful of something that resolved itself as Hector, and even he grinned at her. Kate blinked and they were gone.

‘Did you see that?’ she asked Theo. ‘Right there? In front of us?’ She turned to him, her heart thumping.

‘See what?’

‘That!’ She flapped her hand in the direction of the dimpling ghost. ‘Her!’

‘I saw nothing. I was looking at you.’

He said it so matter of factly, that it didn’t even sound odd. She got to her feet hurriedly, shaking more than she care to admit. Little daydreams and glimpses into the past, she could, kind of, cope with. But this was a real ghost — someone who had lived years ago, yet someone she felt so close to, even now. ‘Thanks for the tea and the loan of the tools. I need to get these back to the museum. And I’m not hanging around a haunted bridge any longer than I have to.’

‘I don’t think there are any ghosts here — you’ve maybe got sunstroke? Ghosts generally don’t come out in broad daylight, or so I’ve been told.’ Theo stood up as well, collecting the mugs almost as an afterthought. He nodded towards the photographs. ‘I’ll have to come and see the photos at the museum.’

‘Yes — yes, do that. And ghosts can come out during the day.’ Hadn’t Millie already appeared to that blonde girl? Kate shivered. She could still feel Cat’s old friend around them, still smell her favourite perfume of bluebells and lilies. She jumped as something like a cold, wet nose pressed against her ankle, nudging her towards Theo. She had to get away — Millie and Hector were clearly in collusion.

He smiled, a little sadly. ‘I’ve loved spending time with you this weekend. You’re one hell of a ballet dancer. I’d kiss you goodbye, but it’s probably too dangerous. And you’ll probably tell me you have to go. I hope we meet again. I hope it is our time soon.’

He headed back down the slope of the Faerie Bridge towards the gypsy caravan as Kate stood on the bridge, seemingly unable to move despite her proclamations earlier. She understood that the whole place wanted to keep her — them — on that bridge until they’d sorted themselves out — but Theo chose that particular moment to be a gentleman, damn him, despite the electricity that was crackling in the air between them.

As Theo reached the bottom, he turned and looked back up at her. This time his smile was a little wistful. ‘I meant everything I said this weekend, Kate. Don’t forget that. I really don’t want to leave Hartsford. I’m trying to justify some more time here, just so you know.’

Kate was usually pretty good at reading double-meaning into innocuous comments — and she definitely thought that Theo meant more in those few words than he actually said.

Hector’s nose nudged her more sharply this time, and she stumbled a little. It would have been a whole lot easier if Theo had seen or felt the ghosts as well.

He might not have continued to walk away from her.

He’s coming back to me. He promised.

But would he?

* * *

One day, one bright, sunny, joyful day, it finally came to him. Will lifted a mallet, and the sun glinted from the head, almost blinding him with shafts of fire.

At the same time, a horse whinnied and he heard the hooves pounding as it came close to him — he turned quickly, and there was a girl riding it; a red-headed girl with her hair flying free. Felicia, of course, silhouetted against the sun, flames glinting through her hair.

Will dropped the mallet and sank to his knees, staring up at her, images flying through his mind, his heart pounding and his stomach churning. An intense pain shot through his head and he covered his eyes, his hands shaking . . .

He was at a forge, the smell of horses and metal around him. Sweat was dripping between his shoulder blades, and it was a hot, hot day, He had stripped to the waist, tied his hair back and was repairing some metal tools he needed to take back to the Hall. To Hartsford Hall. Then he swung the mallet over his shoulder, and strode outside. There she was — his red-headed Cat, sitting by his front door. The front door of his Suffolk cottage, with the horseshoe nailed onto the front of it.

‘Hello, Blacksmith Will.’

‘Cat!’

Conversation, laughter, as he swung her up and cradled her in his arms—

He must have called her name aloud, as he was aware of a hand touching his shoulder, and a slight figure leaning in to him, blotting out the pinky light behind his closed eyelids.

‘Will — are you unwell? What is wrong?’ A shaky laugh. ‘Did Louis scare you?’ Louis was the farm cat, a feral, tabby thing that patrolled the barns and woe betide any mouse that crossed his path.

Will uncovered his face properly and stared up at the young girl. ‘No — not Louis. It’s my Cat. My Catriona. I have to go. I know where I belong. I’m a blacksmith, and I work for her family!’ The words tumbled out as he scrambled to his feet and towered above her. ‘But I belong with her and I have to go back.’

‘Will!’ Felicia looked astonished and then threw her arms around him. ‘Oh, you do have a cat, after all. But she is a lady. A woman. Tell me,’ she pulled away and, winking at him, teasing him out of sheer joy, ‘is she as pretty as I am?’ She did a little twirl, her cotton gown spinning out around her.

‘Ah, Felicia.’ Will picked her up around the waist and spun her around, laughing. ‘She is the most beautiful thing I ever saw. But you, you my pretty Felicia, are the second most beautiful.’ He dropped a thankful kiss on her cheek and, releasing her, turned and ran back to the farmhouse.