Unedited excerpt from
Secret WIshes
by Catherine Stang
Available December 2008 from www.cobblestone-press.com

He just wanted to be left the hell alone. Was that too much to ask? Ross Stanton, Earl of Brynmor, glared up at the ceiling as doors slammed on the floor above him. Voices whose words he couldn’t quite make out could be heard echoing in the hallways, followed by more doors slamming.

Bloody bleeding hell. Apparently he was asking more than the ghosts, who’d invaded the dark, cold townhouse he’d rented, could give.
More door slamming. More yelling.

“Enough!” he thundered, slamming the flats of his hands on the top of his mahogany desk.
They either didn’t hear him or weren’t listening, because the yelling and door slamming continued.      
There was only so much a man could take. “I said, enough!” Ross roared.

But again was ignored. Pushed beyond his patience, his temper sparked. All the doors in the house blew open and were forced to stay that way.
As the house grew quiet, he relaxed, letting the crackle of energy around him back off to a slow sizzle. The silence was almost deafening. Had he frightened them off? One could only hope. He went back to responding to the correspondence that his man of affairs had left for him.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered as muffled voices floated down from the bedroom directly above his study. The one the servants refused to enter, because they swore it was haunted. Lucky for him, he was the only one that could hear the ruckus the ghosts were causing or else…

More silence.

Then, soft female crying.

“Well, well. That was an interesting trick.” A mellow voice with a hint of amusement in it made Ross look up. A medium-built man in rumpled riding attire leaned casually in the doorway of the study with his hands in his pockets. He was obviously a ghost. “And all this time we didn’t think you could hear us.”

“I can hear you,” Ross muttered as he went back to his work. Damn. Now they’d never leave him alone. “How the bloody hell could I not? You made enough noise to wake the dead. Pardon the expression. You’ve proved you’re here, now go haunt someone else.”

“I can’t. You see, I made a bloody mess of things one Christmas Eve and I’m still paying for it.”
Despite his desire to end this conversation, Ross looked back up at the ghost.

“What has that got to do with me?”

“I don’t know, but we’re connected. We have to be or else you couldn’t hear us. None of the others who lived here could hear us.”
Being able to see them didn’t necessarily mean they were connected to him or that he was supposed to help them. He’d seen ghosts most of his life. That, and his ability to manipulate people and objects with his mind, were talents he’d honed as a spy in the military. He’d often met ghosts who could give him information. However, he’d had to be careful not to get caught up in their agendas, a lesson he had learned the hard way. Since then, he usually tried to ignore the ghosts he encountered. If they didn’t know he could hear or see them, then they left him alone.

“Since you’re the one who is alive, I supposed it will be your job to figure it out,” the ghost said, bringing Ross out of his thoughts.

“And if I don’t?”

“History repeats itself and next year you could be haunting someone.”

“Now isn’t that a cheerful holiday thought.”