“Pronto!”
“It’s me,” she said at a rush, ashamed of the tremor in her voice. “Can you please come down to my suite? Now!”
His answer was sharp. “You’re okay? What’s happened?”
“I’ll tell you when you arrive.”
She needed his strong arms to enclose her. His powerful presence. At least whatever she had seen was long gone. How did ghosts come by their clothes anyway? she pondered weakly. Did they have access to communal wardrobes? She began to feel mildly hysterical. Jewellery pools? How did he manage to hold onto the medallion he wore around his neck?
What she had so briefly experienced had opened up a nest of snakes. She didn’t feel at all foolish. She had her wits about her. She had seen what she had seen for long enough to be sure.
Vast relief swept her as Corin strode in. His thick, lustrous hair was tousled into deep waves. He wore a white T-shirt and jeans, hurriedly pulled on.
“For God’s sake, Miranda, you’re as white as a sheet. What’s happened? Did something frighten you?” He looked at her, then beyond her, obviously searching the room, and then just as she had hoped he reached for her and drew her into his arms, clamping her close. “It’s okay. I’m here.” Solid warm flesh, strong arms, vibrantly male. She could feel the strength and power in him. The dizziness eased.
“And am I glad!” she muttered into his warm chest. “Listen, I don’t want to make an issue of it—wake up the manager, demand an exorcism—but I think I’ve had a visit from Signor Vivaldi.” She was capable now of attempting a joke.
He drew back a little so he could stare into her eyes. “What are you talking about? Did someone get in here?”
She shook her head. “Trust me. It was Signor Vivaldi. Only he wasn’t carrying his violin. Don’t let go!” she cried out as his grip slackened in his surprise.
“I won’t.” He sounded gentle, but perplexed. “Come and sit down.” He led her, still with his arms around her, to the sofa, upholstered in rich scarlet, amber and gold brocade to match the bedspread and the hangings around the canopied bed.
“Do you believe in ghosts, Corin?” she asked, staring into his eyes. “Serious question, here. And please don’t laugh.”
“Who’s laughing?” he answered soberly. Indeed, there was no trace of a laugh in his face or his voice. “Are you telling me you saw a ghost?”
“Right there in the mirror,” she said. “Go on. Take a look. You’re so tall and strong you’ll probably frighten him off.”
“More like he’d frighten me!” Corin rose to his feet, moving position so he could stare into the ornate antique pier glass.
“I confess I’m only getting a reflection of you,” he said. She looked profoundly shaken, but it was obvious to him she was trying hard to keep herself together. That impressed him. “The brain does funny things sometimes. Miranda,” he said very gently. “Both Zara and I saw our mother in all sorts of places for ages after she’d gone. On the landing. The stairs. The end of the hallway. The rose gardens especially. It’s grief. It’s trying to come to terms with it. The sense of loss drives you to conjure up the loved one’s presence.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Of course, Corin. I understand about you and Zara. I’ve had my own moments with my grandparents, but I knew them for what they were. I don’t know this guy. I’m pretty clear-headed. Strong-minded, if I say so myself. I wasn’t hallucinating. I’m not losing my marbles. I know what I know. I saw what I saw.”
Corin resisted any attempt to convince her she had to be mistaken. “Well, it wasn’t Vivaldi. He had red hair. He was called the Red Monk.”
“Then it was one of his cronies. The whole place is intrinsically spooky. It wasn’t my imagination. The whole experience was beyond eerie. He didn’t look particularly dangerous, but I don’t fancy seeing him again.”
“I bet you don’t !” Corin agreed on the instant. The weird thing was he believed her. Or believed her enough not to contradict her. “We’ll swap suites.”
Miranda reacted fast. “How do I know he won’t follow me to yours?”
“I wouldn’t blame him if he did.” His answer was wry.
“This isn’t a joke, Corin,” she told him sharply. “You have to stay with me.”
“What? Share the bed?” He had to try to inject some humour into a situation that was threatening to get out of hand.
“You can have the bed,” she said magnanimously. “I’ll sleep on this sofa. It’s big and it’s very comfortable. We might shift it closer to the bed, though.”
“So we can hold hands?”
“Do you believe me or not?” she challenged. “Or do you think this is some kind of idiotic ploy to entice you here?”
“Never occurred to me.” He kept his voice serious.
“If he’d been real I would have attacked him with my hairbrush. But there was no one. I suppose the fascination of Venice, apart from its beauty, mystery and exoticism, is that it’s tantalisingly spooky. Part of the mythology, isn’t it?”
He fetched up a sigh. “So my mother always said. As for me, I keep an open mind about ghosts. I have to admit it would take a lot to convince me. I do believe, however, you are convinced. Now, I have a suggestion. Why don’t I take you down to my suite? Let you see what you think?”
“No way!” She rejected the offer. “You have to stay here with me. The air changed, you know. It was like I had wads of cotton wool stuffed in my ears, except I could hear the tinkling of the chandelier.”
“It isn’t tinkling now,” he said somewhat dryly.
“Of course it isn’t!” She struck his arm. “He’s gone. Buzzed off. Maybe he has a full roster tonight? Some people are into the paranormal bigtime. The thing is he looked just like he would have looked in life. Not some ectoplasm I could walk through. Stay with me, Corin. This is the most beautiful place in the world, but it is scary.”
He released a long groan, feeling the onset of a raging torrent of emotions. “How can I possibly sleep in the bed and leave you on the sofa?”
“The bed’s big enough for both of us,” she said, trying to persuade him with the appeal in her turquoise eyes.
He groaned louder. “Miranda, there’s not a bed in the world big enough for both of us. What do you think’s going on here? You’re a beautiful girl, and I’m as frail as the next guy.”
“No, you’re not,” she said. “Not once you make up your mind. And you have made it up, haven’t you?”
He gave a soundless laugh. “How do you know my best intentions won’t fall into ruins?”
“If they do, it’s our secret,” she said. “We have secrets, don’t we, Corin?”
“Boy,
