Curse of Brandon Lupinus by Shelley Munro

Author:Shelley Munro
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc.
Published: 2012-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

Brandon stood with his arm curved around Jess’ waist as they watched the postie maneuver her red van under an overhanging oak branch. Elation bubbled in him. The desire to shift to wolf and throw back his head in a celebratory howl clawed at his control.

Jess could see him. The other woman had seen him.

He was no longer a transparent entity drifting aimlessly around his old estate. Somehow a second chance was his for the taking. Brandon didn’t know how long this gift would last, but determination to grasp every opportunity pounded him.

“Pleasant woman, but a trifle nosy,” he said.

Jess tugged from his grasp and whirled on him. “You have some explaining to do, mister.” She punctuated each word with an index finger poked in his chest, her brown eyes flashing with fire.

“Jess, I can explain.” Brandon restrained his chuckle judging from her expression amusement would be ill-advised.

Her brow wrinkled in disbelief. “Do it then. Explain to me why I shouldn’t call the local cops and have you thrown into jail.”

God’s teeth. How did he explain to Jess he was a ghost? And a werewolf if he wanted preciseness. Somehow he thought Jess would want every detail, but would she believe? He sucked in a hasty breath, taking pleasure in the simple act. A quick glance at her face started nerves dancing, something he, as the lord of the manor, had never suffered before.

“Quit stalling. You entered my bed under false pretences. I have no idea how you did it.” Hot color suffused her cheeks. “I thought I was dreaming.”

He noticed she didn’t deny she’d enjoyed their lovemaking. “I’m a ghost.” Brandon watched the disbelief leap onto Jess’ face.

“Pull the other leg. It plays There’s a sucker born every day.”

He wasn’t used to women speaking to him with sarcasm lacing their words. “I am Brandon Lupinus, born in the year 1701—”

“You’re wearing jeans!” she said scornfully. “Any idiot knows a male in the Eighteenth Century wore breeches.”

That he could change. Brandon flicked his wrist toward his body, willing them to the garb of his time—black satin breeches, a gray shirt and a darker gray waistcoat with black and silver embroidery to match his eyes. “How’s this? Or would you prefer something more formal?” Another flick of his wrist and his clothes changed to full evening regalia complete with hat. Brandon swept off his hat and bowed deeply, starting to enjoy her reaction, complete with rounded eyes and gaping mouth.

“I…um…a ghost?” Jess backed up a couple of steps.

“Too formal for you?” Brandon flicked his wrist again and willed another change. His clothes faded leaving nothing but skin.

“Will you quit that?” she snapped, taking a bracing breath.

Brandon watched the rise and fall of her breasts with interest. “I thought you liked me this way.”

“I do,” she grumbled, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. “You’re exploiting my weakness and that’s got to stop!”

Brandon arched his brows. “Why?”

She spluttered unintelligible sounds, her mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry ground. “I need coffee.”

Jess spun away from temptation and stomped up the path toward the front door of the manor.

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