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to return to a more pleasant normal state, lacking the knife and green colored skin.
    "Oh my God,” Isabel rasped.
    "Isabel.” William turned and hurried to the bed, nearly taking her in his arms before dropping his clenched hands to his sides. “Are you hurt? Did that whoreson harm you?"
    "William?” She swallowed awkwardly. “Lord—William—Ashenhurst?” she asked, pointing at him with a shaking hand.
    "At your service, mistress.” He bent at the waist with a courtly bow.
    She dropped her hand to her lap and stared off into space. “I've snapped. I've really lost it. They say a crazy person doesn't know they're crazy, but obviously I am. Why else would I be sitting here looking at a man in full Renaissance dress and chatting with him as though he were real? I really should've gotten therapy. As soon as my legs start working again, I'm flushing those pills."
    William prayed she would remember him and not be afraid, but her rambling proved his visage too much for her. He hastened to waylay her fears.
    "I am real, poppet. You are not mad. We were friends when you were little. Do you not remember?"
    Her glazed eyes turned to him. “You're real? Not imaginary?” She shook her head weakly from side to side and swallowed. “I'm not losing it?"
    He smiled at her adorable perplexed expression. “Nay. You are quite sane.” Thoughts of her attacker returned to his mind. “Are you hurt, sweeting? Did he harm you?"
    "No—I mean, yes.” She clenched her eyes closed for a brief moment. “I mean, I'll be all right, I think."
    William looked back over his shoulder toward the door at the sound of hurried footsteps. “Your uncle is coming. He shall tend you. Anon, mistress.” He bowed again and vanished.
    Isabel stared at the empty space as Jerome bolted into the room with Constance on his heels.
    Rushing to her side, he took up her limp hand. “Are you all right? Chad ran out of here screaming. Scared me half to death. And the noise!"
    "I'm all right.” Isabel tried to calm her racing heart and figure out what to say. She was so confused. “I-I don't think Chad liked my breaking up with him. And—and he kind of threw a fit, I guess.” That's what really happened. Right?
    Constance picked up the mess while Jerome stayed by her side. “I'm glad you broke up with him, Isabel, but this is a bit much. What is he, some sort of nutcase?"
    Isabel nodded guardedly as she glanced around the room. “Yes. A nutcase,” she agreed absently. Or else she was.
    Her eyes froze on the shadowy corner near the door. Was there someone there?
    No, of course not. If there were, her uncle and Constance would see him, wouldn't they? She pressed her trembling hand over her eyes.
    "Are you sure you're all right?” her uncle asked.
    Peering between her fingers at his worried expression, she forced a smile to her lips. “I'm fine. I think I'll rest a while.” Yes, that's what she needed. Lots of rest.
    Isabel clutched the covers to her chest. She'd just overdone it with the bath, and Chad's visit, and all the excitement about her shop. Of course that's what it was. And those pain killers. She couldn't forget those.
    Releasing the death grip she had on the coverlet, she settled back against the headboard, but her uncle and Constance continued to watch her warily.
    "Really. I'm fine. I'm going to lie back and forget the entire incident,” she said, trying to reassure them.
    A flash of white caught her eye. Oh, God. He was there in the corner amid the shadows.
    "You call us if you need anything,” Constance said.
    Isabel nodded, staring at the dim figure standing with his arms folded across his chest. They really had talked during the night. She hadn't been dreaming. A full-fledged ghost haunted Derrington Manor.
    No, she had to be hallucinating. There was no such thing as ghosts.
    Her uncle rose, capturing her attention. “I'll check back on you in a little while."
    Isabel nodded numbly, words having completely escaped her as she continued