The Limbo of Luxury by Traci Harding

than a businessman by all accounts. On the night of the wedding, Marcus returned home, and remorseful because of her marriage vow to his brother, Bethany threw herself off the cliffs not far yonder.’ He pointed off into the darkness. ‘Grief-stricken, in a drunken stupor, Jasper took his automobile out for a spin, which ended in a fatal accident.’
    It was Jasper who ran me off the road! Riane went into silent shock. It was Jasper who wed Marcus’s love in his stead! No wonder Marcus was paranoid that I would fall victim to his brother’s charms.
    ‘And Marcus?’ queried the young man. ‘What became of him?’
    ‘He locked himself up in this manor and slowly withered away to nothing. The maid, who raised both the MacCloud boys, also haunts this place. She lost her will to live once both her charges were dead, and poisoned herself in order to join them.’
    ‘Christ, that’s tragic,’ said the lad, and having reached the highland road, he piled Riane into the back seat of a car and covered her with several blankets.
    ‘These mountains are rich with such tragedies,’ commented the historian as he closed the car door. ‘Hence the abundance of lost souls who haunt the place, for ghosts are always victims of tragic deaths. Foreigners just refuse to be warned.’ He gazed in through the window at Riane. ‘We’d best get this young lass to some shelter, before she becomes another sad statistic.’
    ‘Leave me,’ she mumbled, although her plea was inaudible and with her next breath she fell unconscious.
     
     
    The modest room in the Olde World Hotel was a grim contrast to the fairytale existence that had been denied her. The bed had an electric blanket, and a small radiator glowed brightly in one corner of the room, heating the air beyond. Effective as these heating arrangements were, they couldn’t hold a flame to feeling Marcus close. Vegetable broth warmed her empty belly and yet it seemed tasteless after the delights of the phantom realm. Here, in the real world, Riane had thought her delightful sojourn from reality would seem like nothing but a flight of romantic fancy; instead, it seemed like real life was the nightmare, and soon she would awake to find herself still wrapped up in her would-be lover’s arms.
    ‘Oh, please let me wake.’ She made a soft plea to God, Marcus, or whoever else might assist.
    Riane had been doing her best to push aside everything that the waif had said to her, although some of the prophecy was already ringing true. She did feel liberated from the emotional treadmill so far as men were concerned: no man would ever live up to Marcus and if she couldn’t have him then she’d rather be alone. She had no desire to see Geoff again. As interesting and as attractive as she’d found him a week ago, the thought of making love to him now made her skin crawl — and he was a nice guy. In fact, his phoning around looking for her had probably saved her life.
    ‘Damn me for finally finding a man who actually gives a shit.’ She rolled her eyes thinking it was ironic: if it wasn’t for Geoff, she’d still be with Marcus.
    So help me God, if I survive this day I shall kill myself tomorrow and pray my damned soul can find its way back to you. Her parting vow to Marcus presented itself as a way out of her dilemma.
    ‘Ghosts are always the victims of tragic deaths.’ She spoke aloud what the historian had said, and then scampered out of bed.
    In the small en-suite bathroom, Riane searched the cupboards for pills, a razor blade, or anything that might help to end her life. There was not so much as a bottle of detergent, and she seriously doubted that eating a cake of soap would end her days.
    ‘Although it would be tragic,’ she mumbled, leaning in the doorway to consider her next move. ‘Time to check out,’ she decided, rushing to change into some clothes and gather her belongings.
     
     
    ‘You’re not going back up there alone are you, missy?’ The historian gaped at Riane