THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

the room. Never in his wildest dreams could he imagine going through all that Beth did of a morning.
    He should have felt guilty watching her, but once she’d begun, he’d not been able to pull his disbelieving gaze away. No whole man could have.
    She had bounced out of the bed with a smile and immediately stripped to her skin—-nice, smooth, milky white skin; so pale it made the rosy nipples of her small, high breasts and the chestnut thatch between her legs stand out in delightful contrast.
    She then proceeded to use two of the bottles from her collection to wash her hair, another to wash her face, and yet another to clean her long limbs and lithe body. All in tepid water since she’d not taken the time last night to light the fires below. She then did the most amazing thing.
    She ran a sharp, blue handled blade under her arms, over her smooth muscled legs and ever so carefully about the edges of her downy thatch. It had nearly been his undoing.
    By the time he caught his breath, she had dried herself, and started to ever so slowly cover herself in a rich, vanilla- scented cream. Watching the seductive display had been his undoing. He’d forced himself from the room. 
    When curiosity again took the upper hand, he returned to find her standing before the mirror dressed in purple leggings and a thick matching sweater. Her wet, shoulder length hair had been pulled back into a loose knot at her nape. He’d crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe wondering what she would do now.
    For a brief moment she appeared a wee bit sad as she stared at her reflection, then she reached for yet another bottle. She went through four before she picked up one of the glossy black cases. Then the morning’s most bizarre event occurred. She began painting a portrait.
    Like an artist, she wielded first broad brushes then fine, and using pigments—-both solid and liquid—-she re-created herself.
    Having turned her ordinary gray eyes into rather appealing smoky pools, she surprised him by suddenly gasping. The tool that had made her lashes sooty hit the floor as she spun around facing him.
    Startled, he watched as her gaze darted around the room. He, too, began looking about, expecting to find something sinister. Seeing nothing, he moved to her right and waited.
    She shuddered for a brief moment, huffed, and faced the mirror once again. Her gaze continued to dart about the room on occasion as she painted her full lips a soft rose, but nothing further disturbed her.
    She then left the solar to tear his home asunder.
    ~#~
    Standing in the bailey, a hand shielding her eyes, Beth asked, “What do you think, Tom?”
    She grinned at the glare bouncing off the first and second story windows. Her castle would definitely make an awesome bed and breakfast.
    “Lovely. Ye’ll be blinding every seaman from here to the Isle of Mull by week’s end. Are ye sure, lass, ye dinna want any help? There are day workers aplenty. I could send one out to do this for ye.”
    “Oh, I’m sure.” She didn’t want to be tripping over any more people than was absolutely necessary after making her monumental discovery this morning.
    Her castle was haunted .
    Her new and decidedly friendlier electricians, Bart and Will Fraiser, would start work tomorrow morning and that would be disturbing enough.
    She smiled at Tom. By mid-morning she knew, without a doubt, they were in need of a frank discussion if her living at Blackstone was to have any chance of success. “Why did you lie to me?”
    Tom’s face flushed. “I’ll never lie to you, lass!”
    “Ah, but you have—when I asked if Blackstone was haunted.”
    “Nay. You asked if I’d seen a ghost and I answered truthfully. I’ve never.”
    “I’ve seen him, Tom.”
    At first, she’d only catch startling glimpses of him, like a mote floating in the corner of her eye. Heart thudding, she’d spin around...and find nothing. Finally realizing she only saw the tall, translucent creature if she happened to be looking in a mirror, she started watching for him in anything reflective. And did. She’d become quite good at focusing in on the specter as he hovered behind her, becoming more fascinated with his blue-black hair and beard, steel blue eyes, and heavily muscled physique with each consecutive sighting; hence, all her shiny windows. On those rare occasions when he stood very close, she’d also catch a whiff of cold, fetid air.
    “Who is he?”
    A concerned scowl suddenly replaced the flush of