Chapter 2

Randy hopped into the shower and tried to get warm again and wash the chill from her body. It was just her luck that it would be hotter than a kiln one second and then torrential rain the next. Knowing how things happened in her world, it wouldn’t surprise her if it had only rained on her car and nowhere else in the whole county.

As she lathered up her hair, she smiled. The ghost she’d been seeing for longer than she could remember, had actually spoken to her. Finally. She didn’t know why today, after all the years of waiting, but it seemed to take the sting out of her completely rotten day. She quickly rinsed and turned off the water. She should have asked for a time when he’d said he’d come by “later.” Did he bother with time in his state? She wrapped a towel around her chest and tucked it under her arm, grabbing another one she began to dry her dripping hair.

She stood and looked in the mirror as the steam started to clear. She scattered her fingers through her hair to separate some of the wavy locks, so it wouldn’t dry a complete mess. “What does one wear for a meeting with a ghost?” She shook her head.

Turning, she opened the door and headed toward the stairs; she stopped as she glimpsed him standing on the landing.

Jareth let his eyes travel from her still damp ankles up to where the towel sat high on her thigh. He jerked his eyes to her face then lowered them quickly and looked at the floor near to where he stood. “I am... I apologize for being too early.”

Her lips quirked like she was trying not to smile. “It’s okay.” She placed her hands on her hips and looked at him. “I guess it’s been a few years since you’ve seen an almost naked woman.”

Jareth cleared his throat. “It has,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on her face. She wore no makeup and was still the most alluring woman he’d ever looked upon. Those round dark eyes seemed to draw him in and make him wish he was still in his true form.

Biting her lip, she studied him for a moment. “Okay, I’ll run and put some clothes on... I’ll be right back.” She didn’t wait until he answered, just turned and quickly ran into her room.

Randy still lived in the same house she’d grown up in. Her mother had left it many years ago, and she liked having it all to herself. She used her old bedroom as a studio, and now slept in what had been her mother’s room. She barely remembered her father. He had left on her seventh birthday.

She stood in front of her closet trying to decide what to put on. Shrugging, she went over and grabbed her favorite worn jeans out of the dresser and pulled them on. Zipping them, she turned and quickly dug around for a tank top or something to wear on the top half. Her arms were already in it when she realized she hadn’t put on a bra. She chuckled. What was she thinking? He was a ghost, not a date.

In her bare feet she jogged back down the stairs and found him still standing at the door. She stopped and smiled at him. “Come in. We can sit in the kitchen or—”

“That would be fine.” He motioned for her to lead.

He followed along behind her and accepted that modern fashions did have many advantages. The curve of her bottom was clear for him to see in her trousers as she walked in front of him. Looking up from it he watched over her head as she led him into a room with a stove.

Randy motioned to the table. “Have a seat; I’m just going to make some tea.” She hesitated and turned to look at him. “I guess you don’t...or can’t...have some?”

Jareth sat in the chair, or at least he made it appear like he was. “It is my fondest wish to taste something again, but no, I cannot.”

She busied herself filling the kettle and putting it on before finally turning around and leaning back against the counter. “You are real, right? I’m not hallucinating? Because I have to tell you, when I was growing up I seriously thought I had just imagined you so I wouldn’t feel so alone.”

He remembered her childhood all too well. “I am real, or I am for you. No one else has ever seen me before.”

“Really? That sucks!” Her brows furrowed in deep thought. “How long have you been like this?” She waved a hand up and down his body.

Jareth heaved a sigh. “I believe, if I’ve kept accurate count, it is close to two hundred and forty-eight years now.”

“Wow!” She shook her head. “So you were alive in...seventeen...” She closed her eyes, trying to calculate.

“The year of seventeen sixty-one was when I last walked on land.”

Randy blew out a breath. “That’s really kind of cool.” She frowned. “Well, maybe not from your point of view, but it’s not every day I get to talk to someone from the eighteenth century.”

He slowly smiled. “I can see how that would be interesting for you.”

The kettle whistled, and as she turned to pour the water, she smiled at him over her shoulder. “So how old are you...or were you? Because I have to tell you, you do not look like you’re over two hundred years old.”

He grinned. “I was thirty-two years when I last drew breath.”

She nodded as she turned around with the cup of tea and set it on the table. She sat right across from him and looked at him for a moment. “What exactly happened?”

Straightening up, he studied her for a moment. “If I were to say I wasn’t completely sure, would you believe me?”

“So...did you die?”

“Not exactly, not yet.”

“Yet?” Her eyes went wide as she said it.

Jareth looked down at his hands. They looked as if they were resting on the table, for her sake, and maybe for his, as well, so he could feel normal for a few moments. “I had a run-in with a...gypsy, I believe you would refer to her as...and she cursed me to live in the in-between for all years to come.”

“That sucks!” She sipped her tea. “So you’re not dead, but you’re not alive, either?”

He nodded once abruptly.

“What did you do to piss her off?”

He smirked at her words. “I refused to tell her where I had hidden some objects.”

“Objects—like treasure?” She grinned.

Chuckling softly, he winked at her. “Treasures to her.”

Randy studied him silently for several moments. Her eyes moved over his billowy cotton shirt and then up to caress the scar on his cheek. “You were a pirate?”

He sent her a blank look. “I was a privateer more than I was a pirate, but I won’t deny it completely.”

“What’s the difference?”

Suppressing a smile, he looked at her; she was being so careful not to offend him with her inquisition. It appealed to him. “Privateering was legally sanctioned during times of war. Pirating was not.”

She beamed at him. “So you were a bad boy?” He gave her a genuine smile and watched as color flushed her cheeks.

“Indeed,” he finally said softly.

“What type of ship did you sail?” She watched his eyes.

“I had a sloop and seventy men who sailed under my command.” He shrugged. “She was a fairly small vessel, compared to the large galleons as such, but she handled well even in the shallowest regions...and if the wind was with us, not many could catch her.”

“You’ll have to see my ship collection then. I have a few sloops.”

A surprised look appeared in his eyes. “Truly?” He paused for a moment. “I could never understand why a child would want to collect such things.”

Randy leaned back. “I don’t know why I started it. The first time I saw one I felt a peace and wanted it more than any other toy my mother could offer.”

He nodded. “I understand that well enough.” He studied her for a moment. “I cannot believe how much you’ve changed over the years.”

Biting her lip for a moment, she squinted at him. “How long have you been lurking in my life?” She frowned. “I can’t remember anything before I was four that involves you.”

Looking down, he had an uncomfortable feeling. “I felt drawn to you the first time I heard you cry...you weren’t much more than a wee infant in your mother’s arms at that point.”

“Really?” She offered him a soft smile. “That’s kind of sweet. You’ve watched me since I was born?”

He felt he should explain. “I tried not to be intrusive.”

She shook her head. “You weren’t, trust me. I know intrusive and it’s not you.”

“Good, then.” He studied her again, trying his hardest not to let his eyes wander down over the tight shirt she wore. There seemed to be more skin showing than not and despite himself he liked it. “How many years are you now? I lose track from time to time.”

“Twenty-six.”

His was shocked that so long had passed. “And yet still unmarried.”

Humour filled her eyes. “This isn’t the seventeen hundreds, Jareth. Women don’t get married when they're children anymore.” She stood up and set her cup in the sink, then turned back to the table.

His gaze was moving over her, without his permission, and if he’d been a real enough man he would have wanted to express how much he appreciated how she looked. His gaze stopped on her belly. She smiled at him. “It’s a belly ring; do you like it?”

Jareth stared at the small stone dangling from her navel and was surprised to find it very arousing. “It is...very appealing to look upon.” He looked back up at her face and clenched his jaw shut when he saw the sensual look she had in her eyes. He stood up and cleared his throat. “I would like very much to see your ship collection.”

Randy took a moment to look at him. His pants, though worn and faded, were tight enough to let her know that a nicely shaped man lay under the cloth. He wore a single faded dark sash around his waist, the fringed ends falling over one hip to mid-thigh. She looked up to the chest she could see in the vee of his shirt. He was nicely shaped everywhere, or so it appeared.

His dark hair rested on his shoulders, and she wished she could touch it, just once to see if it was as thick as it appeared. When her eyes moved over his strong jawline and up to the scar, she once again wished she could touch it lightly with her fingers, for just a moment. His pale blue eyes were the shade of steel when she looked back to them. An unexpected heat moved through her.

Jareth stepped ever slightly closer to her and looked down into her eyes. “I must ask”—his voice was deep and husky—“that you refrain from looking at me so. I may be stuck between, but I can assure you I am still a man inside, Miranda.”

A shiver shot right down her spine at the sound of her name spoken in his deep voice. She swallowed. and fought the urge to step closer to him. “If you weren’t a ghost, I would be strutting around everywhere I could with you, just to make every female who saw us drool.”

He stepped back from her and smiled as he put his hands behind his back. “I thank you for the compliment.” He frowned. “drool is a compliment, is it not?”

She laughed. “Yes, it was.” She turned toward the door. “Come see my ships.”

Jareth mentally scolded himself as he followed her. He hadn’t felt urges like this in...he couldn’t remember when, but he knew it was well over a hundred years ago. And feeling them now, with the only person to see him in close to two hundred and fifty years, wasn’t a good thing.

Having longed for someone to talk to, he wasn’t going to botch it completely by lusting after her. His eyes went to her swaying bottom again, causing him to groan inwardly. Just think of her as that cherub-faced child, he told himself.

He felt better at that thought; until she walked to her shelves and bent over to slide open the pane of glass. Tamping the lust that quickly shot to his groin, he quickly went over to the case to look inside, rather than at the curve of her ass.

“Are any of the sloops I have close to yours?” She leaned on her knees and looked up at him.

Jareth reached his hand in and then remembered he couldn’t touch anything. He pulled it back out, put it behind him, and nodded. “The pale one on the end is quite like my Calico, if it had a few cannons on it.”

Straightening, she smiled. “We’ll have to get some and add them then. Your ship’s name was the Calico?”

He inclined his head. “It was.”

“Named after the notorious pirate John Rackham? Or was there another reason?”

“I was bold in my youth. The most feared pirates to ever sail were captured and hanged at least thirty years before I had my own vessel, but I’d grown on the tales of them and thought it would be a bold move to name my ship after Calico Jack.” He shrugged.

She chuckled. “I probably would have done the same thing.”

“I know you would have,” he said quietly. “I have watched you battle and win over all these years.”

Randy snorted. “And yet I still haven’t gotten very far.” She shook her head. “So what else can I add to this sloop to make it a replica of yours?” She reached into the cabinet and pulled it out carefully, then set it on top of the shelf. She watched his eyes as he looked at it.

He could not stop yearning for his ship.

“Did you have a Jolly Roger? I could make one to match yours.”

Continuing to look at the tiny vessel he answered. “I had two, one to fly when we were doing what we’d been commissioned to do, and one for when we were not.” He longed to touch the small wooden yardarm on the model. “Do you really wish to make it look like my Calico?”

Randy nodded. “Yes.”

Glancing at her briefly, he looked back to study the ship again. “Her name was painted across the back.”

Randy turned the ship to face the wall and looked at it. “I can do that. You’ll just have to tell me how the letters were formed.”

Jareth nodded and looked at her small delicate hands holding the miniature likeness of his ship. “I would like that.” He clasped his hands behind his back once more so he wouldn’t reach out to her.

She set the ship back in its place before she turned to him again. “I still have so many questions to ask...”

He looked down at the floor and then back to her. “I have more than my fair share of time if you want to talk.” He smiled. “As you are the first person I’ve spoken to in all these years, I’m not in a rush to finish our conversation.”

“Good.” She turned toward the door. “Come upstairs and you can look through font styles and tell me which one the name of your ship looked most like.”

Even though he was not certain he knew what a font was, he was more than willing to follow her. He made a point of looking into the rooms as they passed, rather than at her backside.

She had climbed up four steps when she spun around to face him. “Okay, I need to know. Do you have any tattoos? I’ve seen movies and things and the pirates always had tattoos.” She said it quickly as an excited child would.

He moved back down a step, so his face was level with hers. “Yes, I do.” She gave him an excited look.

“Would it be rude to ask to see them?” She clasped her hands in front of her and gave him a wide-eyed look.

“No, I would not find it rude.” He lifted his right arm and began to flip the cuff up. When he’d pulled the sleeve up to his elbow, he turned his arm over to reveal his forearm. From elbow to wrist was a picture etched into his skin: a long, narrow sword blade with a thick, black, jagged line down its length; extending from that line were vines, making it appear as if the sword were attached to his arm.

“Does it have a meaning?” she asked quietly.

Looking down at the image on his arm. “It did once. When I was doing other than privateering, I was known by another name.”

She raised her brows. “Your pirate name?”

He inclined his head as he rolled the sleeve back down. “Yes. I was known as the Black Brand.”

“How did you get that name?”

Securing the cuff in place, he took his time before looking back to her inquisitive eyes. “That is a tale I’d no wish to tell a lady.”

She watched him for a time and then sighed. “Okay.” She offered him a soft smile. “I am far from a lady, but I won’t push.” She bit her lip. “Do you have any more tattoos?”

The eager pitch in her voice made him smile. “I have been amidst those who are not close to lady like...and you are not one of those.” He watched her closely. “I do have one more.” He stood there waiting for her to speak and then realized she wanted to see that one also. He shook his head and turned on the step, putting his back to her. With slow, jerky movements he pulled his shirt free from his pants and bunched it up to pull it over his head. He stood there with his shirt hanging from his wrists, looking over his shoulder waiting for her to speak.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It’s very detailed for something done that long ago.”

“It hurt like the devil, too; I was very nearly drunk by the time it was finished,” he rasped.

She nodded. “No doubt.” As she looked at the etching done in his skin hundreds of years before, a soft look appeared in her eyes. The tattoo lay from one shoulder to the other and extended down just past his shoulder blades, like wings of a hawk. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered again. “Does it have a meaning?”

“The answer again leans toward my boldness in youth. It matched the pattern on the back of my ship, where her name was. I claimed my ship when I was barely twenty-four, something to boast about at that time... I was a bit of a braggart then.”

She didn’t comment on that statement. “Can I touch it? Are you even touchable? Will I touch skin or nothing at all?”

He sucked in a breath and pulled the shirt back down over his head before he turned. “I tried for years to touch objects, but I was left feeling incomplete when I couldn’t make any contact...” He looked down at his hands.

“I didn’t mean...” she dropped her head to hide her face from him.

“It will run through your mind until you find out, so let’s get it over with.” He tried to sound carefree, but he wasn’t certain he’d achieved it. He pulled his cuff up in one motion to reveal the markings on his arm again.

She looked from his arm to his eyes for a few moments before raising her hand to hover above his arm. “If you don’t want me to...”

“It’s all right,” he whispered softly, then looked down at her hand over his arm. If he had breath to hold, he would have been holding it.

Randy closed the space between her palm and his skin. As it got closer, she knew her hand was going to pass right through his arm. She couldn’t feel warmth or cold as her hand got closer. She stopped millimetres from his skin and looked up. “Do you feel that? It’s like a mild static charge.” She moved her hand slowly, careful to hold it away enough from passing through him. She moved her hand from his elbow back down to his hand before stopping there.

He looked at her hand and then closed his eyes. “It’s like a whisper of the wind touching against me.” He looked back down at her hand. “I’m inclined to try to touch you as well, but just feeling something, however slight after so many years of nothing is overwhelming me.” His eyes rested on hers. “You were going to have me look at something?”

Randy swallowed and dropped her hand back to her side. She nodded and turned to head up the stairs. Without turning to see if he was following, she went into her little studio.