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My father conquered by force and fear, and still the Welsh defied him. I was determined to find another way to bring peace and prosperity to my lands and the people on them.”
    Melancholy fell over him. Despite the high standards he had striven for, he had tried and failed. And he had been so close…
    “I died in 1299, and I was taken to the between-worlds.”
    “The what?”
    “It is a place where the dead go to await their fate. I have slept there for seven hundred years, awaiting my second chance. To live again, to make right my wrong. And now I have that chance; I have returned to the mortal world.”
    Amy nodded slowly, as if she believed him, but there was a glitter in her green eyes that said otherwise. She set her empty glass down. “I’ve never heard of that one. Do many people come back to life like you? What’s the point?”
    “ The point is that I was responsible for many deaths. The men of my garrison, the folk of my castle, and the surrounding villages, and the Welsh who lived on my borders and under my care. I wanted peace, but instead I brought destruction. That is the point, lady.”
    She met his pale eyes, refusing to be intimidated, and he admired her for it. “All right, let’s say you really are the Ghost, returned to life. How are you going to right this wrong? You’re seven hundred years too late.”
    He inclined his head very slightly. “I have already told the witch this—”
    “Hang on…the witch?” Her eyes had widened.
    “The witch who rules the between-worlds. She is the being who oversees time. She told me that the answers to my questions lie here, in this time. She said that you will help me find them.”
    “ I will help you?” She stood up, clearly shaken. “Where is this witch? I want to tell her she’s wrong.”
    He smiled. “I already have, but she will not be moved.”
    “Take me to her.”
    He laughed, and her eyes flashed. “I cannot do that. She will not obey me. She will come to us when she is ready. In the meantime, you are to be my companion in this adventure.”
    “Oh no I’m not,” Amy retorted decidedly, and reached for her shoes. “Find someone else to be your companion, Rey. I’m here because of Jez, and after we’re done, I’m going home.”
    “But—”
    “I need to get back to the party.” She stood up, the heels on her shoes narrow and impossibly high. He watched her cross to the door, the sway of her hips holding his attention. “Maybe you should think about going home, too.” She turned at the door. For all her delicate, pretty looks, the expression in her eyes was strong and intelligent. This was no helpless woman to be dismissed lightly.
    The door closed and he was alone. Reynald reached out and touched something lacy with one callused finger. It seemed to consist of straps or bindings, and cups in the shape of a woman’s breasts. His hand shook.
    Hot, vivid images filled his head. He brushed the lace again, and this time pretended he was touching the soft swell of Amy’s breast. Her skin would be like the finest silk, with a smooth, bewitching sheen. And if he bent and licked her with his tongue, she’d taste like nectar and roses.
    A powerful surge of desire gripped him. For all his pretty, poetic thoughts, he knew he wanted her as basically as any man wanted a woman. This was lust, pure and simple.
    He shifted uncomfortably, his body reminding him it had been a long time. Reynald could have had a wife, but he’d never taken one. He’d never found the one he could trust. He wondered if he’d been overcautious to wait so long. Surely not all women were like Morwenna? Surely there were some who could be trusted? Loved, even…?
    Amy Fairweather.
    He was smiling again, without knowing why.
     
     
    The party was still going strong; if anything, it was rowdier than before. Champagne was flowing, and everyone was laughing, dancing, and having a good time. An actress she recognized was leaning against Jez, talking intently as only the