DREAM LOVER (13 page)

“You look like a hungry wolf that’s just spotted a stray lamb.  And that was
not
an invitation,” she admonished when Nic leaned in for a kiss.  “I need to get busy making sketches and you promised to get a locksmith out here, remember?”

“It’s too early to call for a locksmith.”  Nic teased her with feathery kisses that slowly migrated from her lips to the column of her elegant neck and back up again.  “Too early for sketching,” he murmured before launching into a full scale seduction.

Rachel’s resistance had the consistency of liquid goo by the time Nic lifted her in his arms and carried her back to bed.  She’d attempted a few feeble protests at first, but he was extremely adept at making her forget everything except the feel of hands on her skin and the delicious things he was doing with his mouth and tongue. It didn’t take long before she was soaring into oblivious rapture. 

After a lifetime of being responsible and playing it safe, Rachel should have felt at least a little guilty for letting Nic coax her into another erotic love making session instead of getting right to work. Guilt, however, was the last thing on her mind as her hands began a shameless exploration of their own.

                        ***

Rachel started in the foyer and did a quick assessment of every room downstairs before making preliminary sketches of the foyer, reception hall and grand staircase.  She was just starting on the first of two ballrooms when Nic finally returned to let her know the locksmith couldn’t make it until the following day.  She didn’t want to admit she was relieved about putting it off. She’d already deduced the locked attic room could only belong to Rochelle Beaumont, and it gave her an eerie feeling she couldn’t quite dispel, regardless of how silly it seemed.

As she moved onto the ladies parlor, Rachel could almost imagine the women in their formal gowns sitting on the edge of velveteen sofas and ornate chairs, sipping tea and gossiping in hushed tones while their men retired to the gentlemen’s room for cigars and hard liquor.  All the rooms were elegantly furnished with expensive antique pieces that had probably been in the mansion at the time of Rochelle’s unfortunate tenure.

Though it had been abandoned by the Covelli family eons ago, caretakers had done their best to maintain it.  But even the most well tended house felt cold and empty without someone there to breathe life into it; a fate the Covelli mansion suffered from. Despite its unquestionable beauty, it seemed more like a museum to Rachel than a home.

“If no one wanted to live here, why go to all the expense of keeping full time caretakers instead of just selling it?”  Rachel asked as they entered the formal dining room.

“I can guess why my great grandfather wanted to hang onto it even though he couldn’t bear to live here any longer.  To insure that it always remained in the hands of a Covelli, an enormous fund was set up specifically for maintaining the mansion.”

“Why didn’t Antonio or your father ever live here?”

“Grandfather’s memories of the mansion weren’t very happy ones, and my father had no desire to live in a place this big, which is why I inherited it instead.”

“Are you really planning on living here someday, or are you just going along with the reconstruction to appease Antonio?”

“I suppose it was just to appease Grandfather at first, but now that I’ve had a chance to look around, I think it would be a great place to raise a family.  I’m not very fond of a lot the furnishings, and some of the wall paintings don’t suit my taste, but that’s easily remedied.”

“Well, now would certainly be the best time to start shopping for new furniture and whatever else you want replaced since everything will have to put into storage while the restoration is taking place.  You may want to consider having an estate sale or holding an auction for the things you don’t want to keep.”

Nic glanced around the elegant dining room.  “To be honest, I don’t have experience in restoring a house, but it doesn’t look to me as if there’s much to do.”

“That’s because you’re only focusing on the cosmetics.  It’s the structure itself that needs work, either by strengthening the current foundations that have suffered over time, or by reconstructing some of it altogether to modernize it a bit.  Granted, it shouldn’t be altered too much, but there’s a lot of little things you probably haven’t even noticed.”  Rachel crossed the room and stood in front of the door leading into the kitchen.  “Look how narrow this doorway is.  It’s also too low, which wouldn’t be a problem for someone my size, but for a man of your stature it really needs to be raised at least five or six inches.”

“Now that you mention it, I
have
found myself gauging the height of a few doorways before passing through.”

“Look Nic, if you’re worried I’m going to make unnecessary changes….”

“No!  I wasn’t inferring that at all.  I was just curious because nothing really seems to be in disrepair.”

“Trust me, if you lived here you’d find out soon enough just how poorly the structure has been maintained.  I’m not surprised, considering no one’s bothered to do more than dust and polish the place to make it look pretty. B-ut if the foundation isn’t tended to just as carefully, you may just find one of those fancy chandeliers crashing down on your head.”

Nic eyed Rachel with genuine admiration.  “You’re very passionate about your work, aren’t you?”

The smile she gave him was as suggestive as the sultry look in her eyes.  “That’s not the only thing I’m passionate about.”

He nearly groaned out loud from the jolt of desire that shot through him, something that happened quite frequently whenever Rachel was anywhere within eyesight.  Nic’s gaze wandered over her full breasts. He couldn’t help notice how taut the peaks had grown, or the way they strained against the white cotton blouse she’d worn, practically begging for his touch.  Rachel shifted her weight, drawing his attention to her small waist and the snug fitting jeans that hugged the gentle flare of her hips and long, shapely legs like a second skin.

“I still have a lot of work to do,” Rachel said, shocked by the huskiness in her voice.  “I mean it Nic,” she warned as he continued to advance on her.

Bracing his hands against the door on either side of her face, Nic didn’t have to do anything but look at her to make Rachel’s knees go weak.  Her heart was pounding so hard she half expected to hear a couple of ribs cracking under the pressure, but that quickly became a secondary concern when Nic leaned into her and lightly traced her lips with the tip of his tongue.  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stand there while her mind turned to mush and the rest of her body was consumed by the scorching fire that raging through her.

“I want you,” Nic whispered.  “Let’s go back upstairs so I can…”

Rachel stumbled backwards with a startled yelp when the door suddenly gave way, but it was the impact of Nic’s body crashing down on top of her as they fell to the floor that drove the air from her lungs.  She was vaguely aware that he’d lifted his weight from her but could only lay there gasping as he fussed over her, repeatedly asking if she was okay.  It wasn’t until after he’d helped her up and she’d drawn in a few good gulps of air that she realized they weren’t alone.

Nic must have seen her eyes widen in surprise when she spotted the woman who’d obviously been responsible for opening the door and sending them flying, because he stopped in mid sentence.  The woman was pressed against the wall, stark fear etched into her face as she gaped at Rachel.  Her hand flew to her chest and clutched the crucifix that hung around her neck, her gaze briefly settling on Nic while she muttered something in Italian before returning warily to Rachel.  It came as quite a surprise when Nic responded in Italian, his deep voice as soothing to her as it apparently was to the older woman, even though Rachel didn’t understand a word he was saying.

Nic leaned down and scooped up the sketch pad and pencil Rachel had dropped and handed them to her.  “Celia is the full time housekeeper here,” he explained.  “I’m afraid she’s had quite a scare, so I told her to take a few minutes to settle her nerves before joining us out on the terrace.”

Rachel glanced back at the badly shaken woman as Nic ushered her out of the room.  “Judging by the death grip she has on that cross and the strange way she was looking at me, I get the distinct impression Celia thinks I’m a vampire or some other hideous creature of the night.”

“You’re not too far off,” he said with a grimace.

She waited until they were outside before asking what he meant.  “Is that why we came out here, so you could prove to her I wouldn’t go up in flames in the direct sunlight?”

Nic laughed.  “Coming outside was my idea, but in a way the concept is the same.”

Rachel’s eyes widened.  “You mean she really thinks I’m a vampire?”

“No, not a vampire,” his expression sobered.  “She thought you were a ghost; more specifically, the ghost of Rochelle Beaumont.”

For a few moments, Rachel was too stunned by what Nic had told her to even reply.  “Why would she…I mean, how does Celia know about Rochelle and why on earth would she think I was her ghost?”

Nic took the sketch pad and pencil from her hands and tossed them on the table, then asked Rachel to sit down.  “She wasn’t making a lot of sense,” he said as he took the seat beside her.  “I’ll try to get more information from her when she comes out, but from what I could gather Celia has seen Rochelle’s apparition on many occasions.  Normally it doesn’t frighten her, but she’s used to seeing Rochelle’s sprit roaming the halls upstairs, so it caught her by surprise when she saw you in the kitchen.”

“I think I’m missing something here.  Did she actually tell you I resemble Rochelle Beaumont?”

“Except for the clothes you’re wearing, Celia claims you look exactly like her.  She used the term
gemelli
, which is Italian for twin.” 

The color leeched from Rachel’s face.  “How can you sit there looking so calm when I’m on the verge of a complete melt down?” 

Nic reached for her hand and was shocked to find it was cold as ice.  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of this, honey.  Maybe you and Rochelle are related.  Your names are similar, you’re both French, and now we’ve discovered you look alike.  It makes sense.”

“You’re kidding, right? 
None
of this makes sense!  How is it possible for us to dream about each other without ever having met?  How could I have nightmares about a woman I know nothing about, a woman who died over a hundred years ago?”  Rachel could hear the rising hysteria in her voice but was helpless to stop herself.  “Now I find out I’m a clone of your great grandfather’s lover, which is so far out on the unbelievable scale I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around it.  In case you haven’t noticed, Nic, I’m flipping out here.  A ghost I can handle, but a ghost who looks just like me?”

“Would it make you feel better if we held an impromptu séance and called up the spirit of my great grandfather?”

She gaped at him in disbelief.  “Have you lost your mind?”

“Just think about it, Rachel.  I’ve been told I’m the spitting image of him.  If we could get him to drop in and pay a little visit, then you wouldn’t be alone in this ghost look-alike thing.  Or better yet, we could hook him up with Rochelle again and they could fly off somewhere to elope just like they planned to.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed.  Oh, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping a straight face, but she could see the laughter in his eyes and just the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  She should have been angry at him for teasing her when she was so distraught, but it was impossible to be upset with him when he was so obnoxiously adorable.  On the other hand… she couldn’t just let him off without extracting
some
sort of retribution, now could she?

“You know, that might not be a bad idea,” she said thoughtfully.  Silently congratulating herself when Nic looked a bit startled, she couldn’t help embellishing just to see how far he’d let it go before confessing he’d meant it as a joke.  “I did some work for a woman that’s psychic.  She’s helped the police on numerous murder investigations, so she might even be able to clear up the mystery of Rochelle’s death.”

“Rachel…”

“I’m not sure if she does séances, but she might know someone who does.  We could set up a card table in the attic, light a few candles… or should we do it in the bedroom?  Never mind, she’ll probably want to pick where we set up anyway.  Are there any pictures of your great grandfather here or even a portrait?”

“There’s a portrait in the study but…”

“Good, it will make it easier to make you look just like him if we have an example of how he dressed.”

Nic was so preoccupied with trying to figure out a way to tell Rachel he’d been joking about the séance that he was only half listening to what she said.  He nodded absently and let her continue to ramble until it finally sank it that she was actually suggesting they visit a vintage clothing store and find something similar to what his great grandfather wore.  Granted, it was his fault that she was so enthused about having a séance, but he had to draw the line at dressing like Nicolo Covelli so he’d have a better chance of luring Rochelle’s ghost out into the open.  Not that he believed in ghosts, Nic assured himself.