My Heart Stood Still by Lynn Kurland (best book club books of all time .TXT) 📕

It wasn't as if he hadn't done that before. He didn't have to work if he didn't want to, but he knew he couldn't just sit around and atrophy for the rest of his life.

He turned over in his mind the idea of restoring the rest of the castle. After all, he'd bribed the MacDougal into leaving with a promise of a roof on the great hall. Heaven only knew what kind of hauntings would result from a failure to deliver on that. Maybe he could put a roof on the hall himself, but to restore anything else would take a stonemason. It could be done, but would it be worth it? He would need someplace of his own eventually. Much as he loved Megan's inn, he couldn't stay there indefinitely.

He considered the cost and the end result. If he really wanted to make the castle habitable, to make it a place he could live in, he would have to do something about power.

He supposed other castles in England had been modernized— to the accompanying protests from the Preservation Three, no doubt—but he imagined that the cost was staggering. And if the cost didn't give him pause, the location did. He was a good fifty miles from the coast on roads that made fifty miles into two hours of travel, not one. Not that he minded camping, but he wasn't all that fond of being landlocked. He had very happy memories of his house on the sea.

There was, however, a single thing that kept him where he was. He glanced at the doorway and smiled at the very person he'd been thinking about. Maybe thinking about his future could be put off awhile longer.

Iolanthe had the same expression on her face she'd had last night when she'd looked through the costume book. Thomas could only hope that it was a look of happiness, not distaste.

"Like it?" he asked.

She walked in, stood in the middle of the room, and turned around, looking at everything as if she couldn't believe it.

"Whatever you don't like can be changed."

"Oh, nay," she managed. She sank down in the other chair near the window and looked at him. "Thank you. 'Tis more beautiful than I could have imagined."

Well, that was enough for him. He sat back in the chair and watched her as she got up again and wandered around the room, peering into corners and frowning over modern contraptions that could be hidden behind armoire doors.

And while he watched her, he decided that perhaps this was all he needed at the moment. There, in that room with just the two of them, was enough.

"What are these?" she asked, pointing inside the armoire.

"CDs," he said. "Music locked onto little disks." He rose and went to stand next to her. "Whatever kind of music you like. Scottish pipes, symphony, choral, country."

She looked momentarily perplexed by the selection. "Choose for me."

"Here's one with troubadour songs on it."

"That should be interesting."

He smiled. "Will you be critiquing the performance?"

"Doubtless," she said as she stood back. "Though I daresay it can't be much worse than what I've heard over the years. Even Roderick tries his hand every now and again at some ballad or other."

"Frightening."

"Aye."

So he put on the CD, then sat with her by the window while she alternately sang along or shredded the performance. And he decided that there, in that little room, they could perhaps make their own corner of the world and have some peace, free from the opinions of anyone who might care to offer them.

"Ah, but they're very fine singers," Iolanthe said, when the CD was finished. "Put in another, won't you?"

Thomas rose to do as she asked, then found himself bowled over by the three old ghosts from the inn, plus Duncan and Roderick. The Fop immediately cast himself down in Thomas's place.

"I'll like it here," he said, picking a speck of imaginary dust off his immaculate velvet coat and settling quite comfortably into the chair.

Duncan drew his sword, and Roderick vacated the chair with a sigh. Thomas resumed his place, then found the room filled with conjured-up chairs supporting far-too-comfortable ghosts. Well, perhaps peace and privacy would come at a premium. But then he met Iolanthe's eyes, saw the twinkle there, and found himself thinking that they might survive after all.

And he studiously avoided thinking about the future.

The present would have to be enough for him.

Chapter 18

Iolanthe sat in her newly fashioned chamber and looked about it in pleasure. She had several things to smile about, not the least of which was a door she could forbid anyone to pass through. Many over the past few days had stood outside knocking for what had seemed to her a shocking length of time. She had half suspected it was the comforts found within they sought and not her company that kept them so long at it.

She had, of course, been very choosy about whom she allowed inside her chamber.

There was one soul she knew came inside merely to be with her and 'twas to him she owed the comfort and peace of her chamber. Now that she had somewhere to go, she wondered how she'd survived so many centuries wandering about. She could sit in her chair and look out the window or demand that Roderick come turn the pages in her book of dresses for her, or listen to music that sounded as if an entire abbey full of monks were gathered in her chamber to sing for her ears alone. The marvels she had never known existed which she now called her own were overwhelming.

As were the feelings for Thomas she couldn't ignore. Never mind that he'd built a chamber especially for her. Never mind that he was the brawest, most pleasing-to-the-eye lad she'd ever seen. Never mind that he was kind, generous, and seemingly had no other desire than to pass the greater portion of his days in her company. It was the way he said her name. As if