Forevermore

Captivated

 I can't exactly tell Mom that I don't want to watch a DVD with her and Niall after supper because I have a date with a dead guy. That she and Niall actually want me to hand out with them is a miracle - or guilt. Plus, Elizabeth is going to bed early, so I'd like to enjoy some time without her around.

 Settling on the floor of the sitting room, at my mom's feet, I try not to act like I'm in a hurry to leave, but it's hard. Finally the movie ends, and I wish her and Niall a good night. 

 The moment I'm out of their sight I'm texting Emma, getting her up to speed on what's going on. 

          I want full details in the morn, luv, she texts back. 

         Absolutely. 

 As I hurry to the third floor, I'm suddenly unsure. Logan simply asked if he could see me later. Later could mean... much later. Couldn't it? Maybe I misinterpreted his request? Later in ghost lingo could really mean weeks, or months. 

 Oh, boy.

 Just thinking about his request, spoken in his intriguing accent, gives me butterflies in my stomach. Why am I having such a reaction to him? 

 I open the door to my bedroom and he's there, leaning against my bedpost. It's clear he's been waiting. A slight grin lifts the corners of his mouth. My insides flutter. This is so much better than my clothes and violin floating through the air.

 "So," I whisper, closing my door, "why did you stop trying to scare me?"

 In the next instant, he's there beside me. Maybe two feet separate us. He looks so very real that it takes all of my strength not to try and touch him. Either the room is hot, or my body temperature is rising. 

 "Because I'm verra selfish," he answers quietly. He searches my face, slowly and meticulously. I find myself holding my breath, afraid of what he might think once he inspects me thoroughly. I've never given too much thought to my looks, but right now, I'm acutely aware of them. 

 His gaze returns to mine. "I suppose after all this time of watching you, I've grown to like you. No one's ever offered to help me before." He grins. "So I've appointed myself as your personal gaurdsman, since you willna leave, and since there's something else about." He pauses and looks at me expectedly. "If you'll have me?" 

 Wow. My own personal gaurdsman. And a cute one at that.

 Back in Charleston, I had some crushes and went on a couple of dates with boys. I even was kissed - once. It was nothing special. Never, in the whole of my life, has a boy ever made me feel the way Logan does. I'm pretty positive it has a lot to do with the fact that he is from another century. Modern-day guys seem to lack something, and I guess I never realized that until now. 

 Corny as it sounds, it's chivalry.

 "If you've given up trying to scare me into leaving Glenmorrag, then yes," I say. "I accept your offer." I sit on my window seat, pull me knees up, and lock them in place with my arms. "Can I ask you a question?"

 His smile is mesmerizing. "Just one?" 

 A short laugh escapes my throat. "Not hardly. But I'll start out easy. How old are you?" 

 "Eighteen years." 

 My stare holds his. "So you were born in 1833, and you died- "

 "One hundred and sixty-two years ago," he finishes.

 "I remember little of my life before my death. It's all very much a blur." His gaze clouds over, and we're quiet for a moment. 

 Boldly, I look right at him. "I... can't believe you're real." 

 His expression softens, and he gazes back intently. It almost makes me breathless. 

 "I thought the same thing of you, Logan says quitely, a muscle flexing in his jaw. 

 I know I blush clean to my roots. I shake my head, as if pretending what he said hasn't affected me as much as it has. By his expression, I know I've failed miserably on both accounts. I clear my throat. "So you can't remember anything at all? About maybe the day you died? Is there anything... afterward, maybe?" 

 Logan studies the space of floor between his boots, deep in thought. "I have spots of memories, here and there," he says. He returns his gaze to mine. "I remember my mum. I remember hunting birds in the firsts with my uncle. And I remember a powerful sense of danger. That might be my last real memory. And after you arrived here, that same sense of danger came rushing back to me. I immediately felt that something was amiss, and I feared for your safety." 

 "Well, after the freezer incident, and then the hands that were choking me, I fear for my safety, too," I say, hugging myself. "I thought it was you doing those things, but now I know I wasn't"

 He nods, looking worried. "Aye. I did play those harmless pranks with your clothes and your violin. I also tried to simply tell you to leave. I thought those would suffice - that you might think there was a banshee present and you'd beg your mum to go. But I would never hurt you, Ivy." 

 "Thanks, Logan," I say, my face heating. I think I'll never tire of hearing him speak. His brogue fascinates me, and I hang on to every word. If he'd read a dictionary out loud, cover to cover, I'd be completely content. "So," I say, trying to focus back on all of the recent mysterious incidents, "do you think there's another spirit, then, out to get me?"

 "It could very well be," Logan replies soberly. "There are many who believe these old castles are thick with dark spirits who set out to harm newcomers in their midst." 

 "What about Elizabeth?" I ask, giving my voice to my suspicions. "She really hates me. I dont know how she'd be making herself invisible, but..." 

 Logan furrows his brow. "Why do you feel Lady Elizabeth dislikes you so?" 

 "I can't decide if it's my pink hair" - I lift the streak to show him - "or the holes in my jeans."

 "Have you no trousers to wear without holes?" he asks. 

 I laugh. "Of course. But it's the style now." 

 Logan grins. "Well, I fancy your hair. 'Tis unique." 

 I nod happily. "Thank you," I say stifling a yawn.

 "Och, you've school in the morn." He gives a low bow. "I'll be just outside your door, in my invisible state, of course, should you need anything." He smiles, wide and bright. "Good eve to you, Ivy. 'Till the morn." 

 "Good night," I whisper, feeling myself smile just as wide. 

 Logan promply disappears, the whites of his teeth the last to go.

 That night, I fall into a sounder, more restful sleep than I've had since I first arrived in Scotland.