Ker-thump.

Faith held her breath as footsteps sounded faintly on the wood floor of the main hall. As they drew nearer, she caught the unmistakable sound of Shane grumbling. She pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened-a giggle that became a groan when she heard the soft creak of protest the fourth step of the grand staircase gave every time it was asked to bear weight.

Darn it all. Confronting Shane in her present condition wasn’t the most appealing idea she’d ever had, but she was determined, and confront him she would.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Shane muttered under his breath. He crept along the second-floor hall, walking on the balls of his feet so as not to make any sound that might scare off the ker-thumping “spook.” “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Isn’t there? The question came to him as clearly as if he had spoken it out loud.

No, he answered, only the slight hesitation in his step betraying his uncertainty. He ordered himself to drop the internal dialogue and concentrate on finding whoever or whatever it was clomping around in the middle of the night. It was probably Mr. Fitz. There was a weird old geezer if ever there was one. Ghosts? Bah, humbug.

What about Ellie? that clear, unrelenting inner voice questioned.

Shane bit back a curse as he paused at the end of the hall, his hand tightening and relaxing, tightening and relaxing on the grip of his gun. Ellie’s dead.

And her ghost is haunting your soul. Ellie died, and you blamed yourself. You’ve carried her ghost inside you all these years. Now you’re blaming yourself for what happened to Faith. Will you let her ghost haunt you as well?

Faith isn’t dead, no thanks to me. She’ll be fine as soon as I get out of her life.

Will she?

The image of her crying flashed quickly through his mind. The memory was as bright and sharp as a bolt of lightning, and it cut him to the quick. But he pushed the image away and answered the question with a firm yes.

Will you?

The question hung suspended in his mind. He refused to answer it, and it refused to leave him.

Ker-thump.

He breathed an unconscious sigh of relief as his attention focused once again on the mysterious noise. This time it sounded as if it had come from behind him. He could have sworn it had originated in this end of the hall. Damn, he thought, as he turned and headed back toward the stairs, his concentration wasn’t worth spit anymore. He was going to stay up there and find the source of this sound if it took the whole blasted night.

Flattening himself back against the wall, he narrowed his eyes, searching the shadows for any sign of movement. He saw nothing in the pale silver light that fell through the Palladian window. His hearing was sharp enough to pick up the slightest disturbance of the quiet. There were the sounds associated with an old house settling, like the creak of an elderly matriarch’s joints as age seeped into them. In the far distance was the indistinct whoosh of the sea surging against the shore. Nearer there was the unmistakable groan of a floorboard.

Shane’s even teeth flashed in the dark as a predatory smile tugged at his lips. Ghosts didn’t make the floors creak. Every muscle ready to spring to action, he moved along the wall with deceptive laziness. He had his quarry cornered. The sound had come from Captain Dugan’s suite, and there was only one way out-the door that was standing ajar before him.

The taste of victory was sweet, Shane reflected, as he slipped his hand around the polished brass knob and eased the door open. He had the bastard who’d been driving him nuts all these nights. And if it did turn out to be Jack Fitz, Shane was going to shake the old coot until his false teeth rattled. If it turned out to be a squirrel, he’d make a fur rug out of the little beast. If it turned out to be-

“Faith!”

How she kept from screaming, Faith didn’t know, but the sound seemed to get jammed crosswise in her throat. To have him suddenly behind her shouting her name, had her heart slamming against her breastbone. She wheeled wide-eyed, clutching her nightgown in a white-knuckled fist against her chest.

Shane flipped on the floor lamp that stood in the corner near the window. The scowl that took the place of surprise on his face was blacker than the night. “What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

“Oh,” Faith gasped, leaning heavily against the carved post at the foot of the enormous tester bed. She felt as limp and drained as a deflated balloon, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Shane. “Don’t bother apologizing for scaring me near to death!”

“Scaring you?” Shane said on a growl, his temper only burning hotter as he took in her pallor. She didn’t have any business climbing two stairs, let alone two flights of them! “I ought to give you the scare of your life. I ought to take you across my knee! You’re not supposed to be out of bed.”

“Pardon me for wanting to spare myself the job of filling in bullet holes in my walls,” she said dryly, shooting a pointed glance at his brand-new Smith and Wesson. “You can’t shoot Captain Dugan, you know. He’s been dead for nearly a hundred years already.”

He shoved the gun into his shoulder holster, feeling just a tad bit foolish for having pulled it in the first place. “Don’t change the subject,” he grumbled. “Dr. Moore let you come home on the condition you stay in bed.”

“Why should you care?” Faith asked, tilting her little chin up to the unmistakable angle of challenge. “You’re leaving in a few hours anyway.”

Shane’s shoulders sagged. He dragged a hand back through his hair, heaving a weary sigh as he glanced down at the floor. “Dammit, Faith, you know I care.”

“I know you’re leaving.”

“I have to.” Why did she have to make this harder than it already was, he wondered as he turned and stared out the window. The only thing he saw as he looked out was the reflection of a lonely man. “My life is back in Washington. What happened to you reminded me of that in a way nothing else could. I don’t belong here, Faith.”

“Fine,” she said, wincing as she forgot herself and tried to shrug. “Then I’m going with you.”

Shane wheeled and glared at her. “What?”

“You heard me. I’ll go downstairs and pack right now.”

“You can’t come to Washington with me.”

She arched a delicate brow in arrogant question. “No? Just you try and stop me, Shane Callan. It’s a free country. I can go to Washington if I want to.”

“Faith,” he said tightly, advancing on her, pointing a forefinger at her as if it were the barrel of a gun. “I’m warning you-”

“Warn me all you want,” she said with a sassy toss of her head. “I’m going.”

“What about the inn?”

“I’d rather be with you than the inn. Lord only knows why.”

Temper brought a rush of color to Shane’s high cheekbones and flared his nostrils. He jammed his hands on his hips just to keep from reaching out and shaking the infuriating little vixen. “Of all the damn, stubborn-”

“You’d better believe it, mister,” Faith said, her chin coming up another notch. “I’ve had it up to here with men manipulating my life. I will not let you walk away just because you think it’s best for me. I know what’s best for me.”

“Oh? Was getting kidnapped good for you? Was getting shot good for you?”

“Is running away from love good for you?” Her question was met with a silence so tense it seemed brittle. Shane stared at her as if she had slapped him. She’d hit a nerve. Thank heaven. Oh, please, she prayed as she drew in a slow, deep breath. “That’s what you’re doing. Running. We have something special between us, Shane. It won’t be good for either one of us if you push that away.”

Retreating a step, Shane felt all the anger rush out of him. “I’m just trying to save you, Faith. Can’t you see that? The life I live doesn’t allow for love.”