Marie Treanor

Ghost Unlaid - NOT CURRENTLY AVAILABLE
Who is the ghost who haunts Edinburgh's old Drummond Library? What binds him to the world, and how can he be laid to rest...?
Ghost Unlaid is about Julie Macbeth, a rare book specialist who has given up her favourite sport after injuring her fiancée in a public demonstration. Celibate for the next four years, she is suddenly moved to desire by an eccentric who appears to live in the private library she has been sent to evaluate.
When this man claims to be the ghost of a Scottish king dead for a thousand years, she is at first sure that he’s insane. Especially since she knows exactly how solid and hot he is to the touch…

Eventually, Julie has to choose between her own desires and the well-being of the entity she has grown to love...

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Read Excerpts

Reviews:

"Ghost Unlaid is a really romantic story. It was so moving after Lulach’s real identity is revealed. The way Julie kept searching for answers to help set him free was an unbelievable story that I could not put down. They way Ms. Treanor wrote the desire Julie had for Lulach was a true love story. Often times it brought back memories of the movie, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. It was like a love surpassing all throughout time.

"Ms. Treanor’s writing is full of sensuality that warms all the way down to the toes. Her flare for words made her characters two strong people with real needs and desires. The dialogue truly captivates throughout every page. This story draws you into a luxury of times past with elegant amorous style that allow you to escape to another time and another place. Ms. Treanor has created a story that is a must read! Grab a chair, and put your feet up, this is one journey that you don’t want to miss!" - 5 hearts, Linda, The Romance Studio

"Marie Treanor has developed some extremely endearing characters. Lulach has to be the sexiest ghost that Scotland has seen in a long time! Julie's boss is definitely a man to be hated. It was characters like these that kept me turning pages in this book. My only complaint was length--I loved the story so much that I wanted more! Ghost Unlaid is a keeper for anyone who loves a good romance, or for a dowdy history buff like myself. Much appreciation for a good read, Ms. Treanor." - Rating 8, Sue, Novel Spot

"GHOST UNLAID is a tender, passionate, and charming story with a fun touch of quirkiness. You’ll see ghosts in a whole new light after reading this captivating story...

"GHOST UNLAID is an extremely well written and solid story that was an absolute treat to read. Ms. Treanor does a fabulous job of pulling you into the story with wonderful visuals and entertaining dialog. You could almost smell the musty old books in library. I just loved Julie and Lulach is sexy, charming, and perfect as our ghostly hero. This was my first story from Ms. Treanor and I can’t wait to read more of her work. If you haven’t read this one yet, you’re definitely missing out!" - 4.5 stars, Susan Biliter, eCataromance

"Marie Treanor writes with a sensual, intelligent style, giving her characters strong personalities and engaging dialogue. Ghost Unlaid drips of classy erotic tones and historical elements that sweep you away from the firstsentence. I was so entranced by the character Lulach and his rich background. I was sorry to see the story end. While a shorter length work, this is the kind of read one can fully escape into." - 4 cups, Nancy Jackson, Coffee Time Romance

"While entrapped in Ghost Unlaid by Marie Treanor you are taken into a world of ghostly beings, rare books and ancient times. One of my favorite parts of the story is when Julie finds the key that can end Lulach’s time as a ghost. Will she use what she finds to send him away even though she is madly in love with the ghost?

"... I enjoyed Ghost Unlaid and look forward to reading more of Marie Treanor to see if she can entertain and just plain maintain the enticing story as she has created in this one. I for one want to read a longer story written by this author -- as Calgon™ says, “Take me away,” and she did! For a short story this is well worth a look at the book." - 4 angels, Wendi, Fallen Angel Reviews

"Hauntingly beautiful and entirely sensual, Ghost Unlaid will entice readers’ from start to finish with a love affair that will cross all boundaries, including life and death...

"Not the type of story I would have picked for myself, I found Ghost Unlaid entirely entertaining. Ms. Treanor has written a story that not only contains love and romance but also of history and of a ghost that does not rattle chains or scare people. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of this book; I loved how Julie was able to recognize that loving someone, no matter what they are, is a part of human nature and cannot be helped. Lulach was the quintessential knight in shining armor; only he was dead and haunted a library. My only regret about this book was the length of the story, I would loved to have read more about Julie and Lulach but I suppose a story does have to end, unfortunately. Buy this book not only for the story but because it does not have the usual happy ending, but it was a very special treat indeed." - 4stars, Sheryl, eCataromance

Excerpts:

Here's the very beginning of Ghost Unlaid. And again, if you want something a little sexier, scroll down to the second excerpt...

PROLOGUE

With every step, the King became more certain.

There was grief in his heart, for his wife and his children, helpless anger for what he knew they would suffer. And there was anguish for his country, his people, for he could have made things better.

But beneath his saddle, his little grey horse moved slowly, inexorably on, like the march of time and fate that no mortal, even a king, could alter. His escort surrounded him protectively, still pleased with their cleverness in persuading him to avoid trouble by taking the quiet, unexpected route through Strathbogie. Though the King could not recall being here before, the scenery was becoming increasingly familiar to him – every rock and hillock, every bare bush and tree with new buds barely formed, even the big, black crow staring at him so knowingly from the still stark branch to his left.

It was coming with the spring, this new beginning for his country, down roads he would never have taken and now could not choose. Another hand would guide, and his only comfort was that it would not all be bad. Only it was harder than he had expected to give up his fight, more painful to face the loss of his family. Yet still, behind it all, even as his men began to grow restive, to turn in their saddles, suspicious at last of being tracked and ambushed, there was a strange, excited anticipation, for this was his new beginning too.

He knew precisely when the first man would fall. He had time to order his escort behind him – no point in more of them than necessary dying – and then, even while they obediently fell back, four men lunged out from the trees, weapons raised, yelling. The King smiled, for it was just as he had dreamed. Drawing his own huge sword, he rode down the first man, smiting the next while urging on his screaming horse till he found the enemy he wanted, young and tall, arrogant and callous, waiting for him.

He had to try; and he had the impression his strength surprised young Malcolm. But there was never any doubt. There was a shove from behind, another unseen enemy knocking him off the frightened grey horse, and then from the ground where he lay winded, there was Malcolm, sword raised above him for the kill. And he smiled again, seeing not the violent, triumphant face of his enemy, but the laughing, beautiful one of his fate, for whom he would wait a thousand years.

The sword drove down, hard, and the wait began.

And something a little spicier... an encounter on a spiral staircase in the library...

Pulling herself together with an angry little shake, she moved to the bottom few steps, swinging round to discover him right in front of her, one foot resting on the last step.

“You move like a cat!” she exclaimed.

He didn’t answer, just lifted up his arms. Presuming he meant to help her with the books, she held them down to him, but he ignored them, both hands reaching instead for her waist and swinging her down the last few steps, books and all. Caught by surprise, she could only laugh, till she realized that she was being set back on her feet unnecessarily slowly, that his hand in the small of her back was pushing her close into him, letting her slide the final few inches to the floor against his body. She gasped – at the sheer unexpectedness of the contact, she assured herself. It had nothing to do with the strength of his muscular arms around her, or the shocking hardness of his slim, taut body. Certainly nothing to do with that extra-hard hardness pressing deliberately against her abdomen.

She had nothing to say, no strength of will or body to pull away. The power of the desire coursing through her had thrown her completely. His hands, his arms left her, forcing her to bite her lip to prevent the physical cry of disappointment. Yet she was still held captive by his body, her back against the mesh of the spiral staircase while he deliberately took the books from her and reached high above her head to place them on one of the upper steps in the spiral. The feel of his stretched body against hers made her gasp aloud, and she saw him smile. His arms were back around her, his hands caressing her back, sweeping down across her buttocks.

“You see? Our bodies speak to each other,” he said softly in her ear, and she could not doubt it. Her own felt weak with longing, yet it somehow had the strength to press back into him, feeling the ardent hardness of his own body’s speech with a pleasure that came close to triumph.

He bent his head, brushing his lips against her neck, nuzzling, kissing the sensitive skin till she was gasping and wriggling with the electric waves of desire shooting downwards. He began teasing his way around to just that spot at the back of her neck, where his mouth seized her skin, and she could feel his tongue and his teeth and her whole body shuddered with pleasure. Wildly, she wondered if it was possible to have an orgasm like this…

Of their own volition, her arms had gone around his back, caressing, clinging to him. She could feel his fingers in her hair, drawing back her head, and then his mouth was on hers in the most staggering kiss she had ever known. She was pushing, almost grinding her body into his, uncaring of the hard metal behind her as he pressed back, his breathing wildly uneven, his heart thundering against hers. And when he spoke, it was still against her lips, stroking, caressing, kissing in between words.

“I would like,” he groaned out so softly, “to take off all…your many layers of …clothing, one by one …to carry you across to the …fireside and lie with you there… before the dancing flames…make slow… languorous… love to you all …day, and all night too… making it last and last and last…”

His hands were tight on her buttocks now, kneading them, holding her so hard against his erection that she thought she would explode with desire. His words made it worse, conjuring up wild images of their naked bodies to add to what was actually happening to her.

“But first,” he whispered, and now she was making it twice as difficult for him to speak, for when his lips weren’t kissing, hers were, deliberately provoking, egging him on recklessly, without clear though where this was leading, only that she wanted it more badly than she had ever wanted anyone or anything in her life before. “First… I have to… I really have to… have you here… and… now… or I… will… explode… all over… your… books.” Her gasp of laughter was more than half sob. Her mouth was buried in his again, sharing it. His mouth loosened, to whisper breathlessly against her lips, “May I?”

And she had time to think achingly, “How sweet…” when her answer was surely already more than given. Repeating it, she kissed his mouth, tugging futilely at his tunic. He broke the kiss to grab the tunic, pulling it swiftly over his head, just as in her fantasy of yesterday. And just as then, she had a glimpse of the golden body beneath, the rippling muscles and fine hair of his chest, the tight, flat stomach and the tantalizing line of tiny hairs reaching down from his naval to where their bodies seemed to be melded together. Gasping, almost moaning, she felt him move again, allowing her first sight, as it were, of his manhood, big and stiff and curiously golden in the library’s musty light.

Her skirt was unzipped, dropped to the floor, her abdomen welcomed back his pressing, grinding body. She was so wet below, he must have been able to feel it on his leg…she felt his hands on her breasts, urgently caressing the stiff nipples beneath her shirt, and then, reaching bare skin tenderly releasing them. His lips replaced his hands, which were again on her buttocks, pressing.

Her shrieking body could stand the wait no longer. Reaching down, she tugged aside the wisp of cotton between her legs and grasped his hot hardness, hearing with wicked triumph the hiss of his breath, his anguished groan as she squeezed and then deliberately pushed him inside her...

(Both the above excerpts are unedited and unproofed and may differ slightly from the final published version. Copyright Marie Treanor 2005)