Loved by the Alpha Bear

by Emilia Hartley

  “That I did, ma’am. Since she was a child. Ah, here we are. I’ll have Arthur bring in your things in a moment.”

  Reginald opened a door to the left, smiled, then turned and retreated down the hallway, leaving Ellie to decipher her feelings alone.

  The bedroom was just as fancy and expensive as the rest of the house. A large four-poster bed took up most of the floor, though there was an extravagant velvet armchair and tea table situated in front of a high bay window, and across the room, an armoire and vanity were polished to a shine. Candles were set here and there around the room, and the original candle brackets and gas lamps were still mounted by a far door which she assumed led to the restroom. Or the loo, as the British called them.

  Throwing herself down on the bed and sinking into the luxurious bedclothes, Ellie giggled. She was in England. She had dreamed her entire life of coming to England, of coming here, to the house and the town where her mother had grown up, of seeing the White Cliffs and tasting the sea that her family had thrived beside. And now she was here.

  Ridiculously happy, Ellie clutched a pillow to her chest and closed her eyes, letting herself drift off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 3

  His hands roamed over her skin as soft as silk as they played over every part of her body. He looked like a god in the candlelight, with sleek golden skin and muscles. She arched her hips to meet him, desire coursing through her veins. She loved the feel of his skin against hers, his heart beating against her breasts as if they were one being in two bodies.

  She moaned as his lips closed in on her breasts, suckling at her, kissing every inch of her he could find. His love making wasn’t hurried, but soft and gentle, as if he had all the time in the world to drink her in, to make her feel as if her body were as loose and languid as water.

  Heat rippled over them as they moved together, their sighs and breaths the only sound that mattered in the night. She was betrothed to another, it was true, but when her love was with her, her father’s promise of marriage to another man no longer mattered. All she could think about was him and the beat of his heart against hers. He was hers and she his, and no amount of power or money could keep them apart.

  A knock on her bedroom door startled Ellie awake, and she jolted upright off the bed. Her skin was tingling and saturated with sweat, as if it had not been a dream she had had, but a reality. She could still feel him against her, whoever he was; still feel his lips against her neck, her breasts. Ellie shuddered.

  It was no wonder her heart was racing and her chest was heaving. Good grief, how long had it been since she’d been with a man? Six months? Eight? It must be this place, she decided, rubbing circles on her chest, trying to calm herself. What she wouldn’t give for a glass of water. This house was playing tricks on her, making her dream she was part of a forbidden love in another time. Of course, her father would never promise her to a man she didn’t love. Her father had never wanted anything more than her happiness and actually encouraged her to date. But the women she knew so well from her research, the women who had lived in the time of Jane Austen, hadn’t been so lucky. Often, those women were used as bargaining chips to gain their fathers more land or money and had no say whatsoever in whom they loved, unless they were willing to risk their virtue and be with their lovers in secret, sometimes even after marriage.

  Yes, that had to be it. It was just this house making her dream of forbidden love. Still, she wouldn’t mind at all if she could dream of it again. If only that insistent person would quit knocking on her door.

  Grudgingly, she pulled herself out of bed, straightened her sweater, and went to the door. There was no outward sign she had just had a sex dream, was there? Gosh, she hoped not.

  Ellie pulled open the door and forced a smile for the apologetic young woman on the other side. The girl tugged nervously at the apron over her brown skirt. “I’m sorry to bother you, Miss,” she said, staring at the floor. “There’s someone to see you in the foyer.”

  Confused, Ellie frowned. “Someone to see me? Who?”

  “Lord Dabney, Miss.” The girl began walking down the hall, glancing back every few seconds to make sure she was being followed.

  At a loss, Ellie followed. Who on Earth was Lord Dabney, and why did he want to see her?

  As they entered the foyer, Ellie spotted a man standing by the door, gazing out the window. Her first thought was that he was extremely handsome. He had a shock of thick dark hair, sharp prominent features, and when he turned, she found he had dark, mysterious eyes.

  This was Lord Dabney?

  “Lord Dabney, Miss,” the maid said. She curtsied a little before scurrying from the room.

  Lord Dabney’s smile was bright and charming. Ellie found herself blushing furiously as his intense gaze landed on her. She cleared her throat.

  “Miss Hargrove,” he said, and his deep voice sent a chill down her spine. He held out his hand for hers.

  “Fitzgerald, actually.” Why was she feeling so awkward? “And you must be Lord Dabney?”

  “James, please. Lord Dabney was my father.”

  “James.” She smiled shyly. “What can I do for you, James?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off her. “I’m here to ask you that question, actually?” He chuckled softly at her confused expression. “Our families are old friends,” he continued. “The Dabneys and the Hargroves go back generations. They were even joined by marriage once. And your grandmother, well,” his entire demeanor warmed. “Your grandmother was a special lady.”

  Ellie didn’t know what to say. James must have sensed it. “Would you like to take a walk?” he asked.

  Take a walk around these beautiful grounds with a handsome stranger? “Sure.”

  The gardens of Hargrove House were even better than she imagined. They were sectioned off between pathways, each one a world of its own, straight out of a storybook. James led her through a stone archway into a small, enclosed courtyard. Ellie ran her fingers along the purple and white flowers, lifting the bell-shaped bloom to her face.

  “It smells so pretty,” she whispered, mesmerized by the entire place.

  “It’s not the only one.”

  Stunned, she turned around and stared at James. Had she heard him correctly?

  “It’s called Snake’s Head Fritillary,” he told her, as if nothing had happened. “Or the Chess Flower, as some people like to call it.” Plucking a bloom from the rest, he softly tucked it behind her ear. Ellie shuddered at his touch. Was that a good chill or a bad chill? She wondered. “The Chess Flower has grown around Hargrove House for generations.”

  Despite herself, Ellie couldn’t help but be charmed. Never in a million years would she have thought she would be in her ancestral home (in England, no less), flirting (was she really flirting?!) with an actual Lord. One who also happened to be incredibly attractive. Something about him was incredibly familiar, though she couldn’t say why.

  “I’m surprised you know so much about my family,” she admitted, nervously clutching her sweater. James reached out for her hand and entwined his fingers with his. Ellie’s breath caught in her throat.

  “As I said, our families have been connected for generations.” They had made it back to the main pathway by then. James stopped and turned to look at her, still holding her hand. His dark, penetrating eyes stared into hers, and he leaned in close. Ellie felt her heart begin to race. “Do you believe in fate?” he whispered, his voice caressing her cheek.

  Swallowing hard, Ellie tried to speak, but no words would come. The only thing she could think about was his soft skin pressed against her hand and the fact that he was close enough to kiss.

  James seemed to be thinking the same thing. His lips hovered over hers, the air between them hot. “I know we’ve only just met,” he told her, and his lip brushed against her ever so slightly. Ellie felt a rush of heat between her legs and her pulse was going wild. Was he going to kiss her? “But I feel as if I have known you my entire life.”

  Ellie’s breath
came out in a gasp as he pressed a hand to the small of her back, almost possessively, closing the gap between them to nothing. She had never been handled in a way that made her feel owned and cared for all at the same time.

  The door to the house opened and Reginald stepped out. Ellie jumped back as if she had been burned, one hand against her heaving chest.

  “Good evening, Reginald,” James called to the butler. Reginald’s face remained an emotionless mask. “I was just giving Miss Hargrove a tour of the grounds.”

  The butler looked from one to the other and raised a brow. “Indeed.”

  Breathless, Ellie managed a guilty smile. “I, um, I had better go. I still haven’t unpacked.”

  “Of course.” Taking her hand again, James swept into a low bow before touching her fingers to his lips. She was sure he took longer than necessary, but she didn’t pull away. All she could do was stare. His eyes spoke of sex and seduction as he released her and excused himself.

  Ellie watched him go with a sigh. She definitely wouldn’t mind falling into bed with the charming Lord Dabney, she thought, surprising even herself. She couldn’t help but smile. England was turning out to be just like a novel after all.

  CHAPTER 4

  She gazed at her reflection in the gilded mirror, grinning broadly as she adjusted the ringlet curls framing her face. Matthew always said her hair made it seem like she set the world on fire. She’d always thought that a funny notion, until he reminded her that she was his world.

  She couldn’t wait to see him again, even if it was under the ever-watchful eye of her father and her betrothed. It was easy to slip off unnoticed for a moment or two whenever her family threw a ball, and oh, how her mother loved to entertain.

  Pinching her cheeks for color, she straightened her pale blue muslin gown, admiring how the top layer flowed over the white cotton beneath. Her father had it imported as an early birthday present, and she couldn’t have been more pleased.

  “Elizabeth!” her cousin Sarah called, running down the hall. “Hurry, Lizzie, they’re all waiting on you.”

  Laughing, Elizabeth spun, loving the way her dress flowed freely around her body. “Let them wait,” she declared, her green eyes blazing with mischief. “The party is for me, after all. Why not make an entrance?”

  Sarah beamed at her shaking her head. “I could never be as brave as you. Your father would skin you if he heard your talk.”

  Elizabeth linked her arm through Sarah’s. “Nonsense, dear cousin. Father adores me.” The two girls giggled like conspirators as they ran down the hall.

  The ballroom was crowded and noisy, and exactly the way Elizabeth liked it. She greeted her guests with a distinguished, proper air, just as her mother had taught her; all the while, searching the crowd for Matthew. One of the waiters passed by with a tray of Champagne. Elizabeth took one, spinning once more as the bubbly drink slid down her throat.

  Where was he?

  There. Across the room, near the far door, Matthew stood, casually leaning against the wall. Even from a distance, she loved how his blue eyes roamed over her body, as if he were undressing her just with his eyes. Her entire being ached to be with him again, and a slow, easy smile played across her lips. His answering smile promised long kisses and answering sighs in the dark.

  “He’s here,” Sarah exclaimed from beside her, and Elizabeth jumped. She couldn’t know Elizabeth had been searching for the McKinnon heir. No one knew; no one could know. The McKinnon’s were a good family, but poor as far as Lords went, and her father would never allow the union. Especially since he had already agreed on a dowry with the Dabneys. But if Sarah knew she had been secretly seeing Matthew for the last fortnight…

  Luckily, Sarah was pointing excitedly in another direction. Elizabeth followed her cousin’s gaze and spotted the young Lord Dabney talking to her father. He wasn’t so bad, really, she conceded. He was handsome, charming, dark and mysterious. As the heir to his family fortune, she would never be wanting for luxury. And, she had to admit, she was attracted to him. Something about his smoldering gaze was enticing. And yet, there was just something off about him. Something a little too possessive which made Elizabeth want to keep him at arm’s length.

  She knew her duty, and she would honor the marriage without a fight, but she didn’t love James Dabney, and she doubted if she ever would.

  “Ah, here she is,” her father announced, drunkenly placing an arm around her. Elizabeth beamed at their guests around her father’s portly form. “I was just telling Lord Dabney how excited you are about your upcoming nuptials. Aren’t you my dear?”

  Though her smile wanted to falter, Elizabeth forced it to stay in place. Lord Dabney’s eyes narrowed just a little. “Of course. Any girl would be pleased with such an advantageous match.” She let out a breath when his expression relaxed. The ladies around her began to gush at how lucky she was as the men turned to the morning’s hunt. Elizabeth watched Matthew slip out of the room to the hallway and hurried to excuse herself.

  She had just made it through the doors to the hallway when strong arms pulled her around a corner. Her back knocked against the wall and suddenly Matthews’s mouth was on her, his lips pressed to her neck. She gripped at his clothing, her fingers clawing into the heavy wool of his jacket, trying to bring him closer. Their heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway and she delighted in the danger of their affair.

  Matthew yanked down the top of her dress and chemise, exposing her breast before clamping his mouth around it. Elizabeth moaned greedily as he suckled her nipple, wishing more than anything that neither of them were clothed.

  “I have to have you,” Matthew whispered against her ear, brushing his lips seductively against her cheek. Heat flooded through her down to her center and she knew she would never deny him.

  “Come to my rooms tonight,” she instructed. “I shall leave the window open for you.” His answer came as a kiss so deep and full of longing that she found herself moaning again.

  The door opened at the end of the hall, and both of them froze. “Elizabeth?” a man called, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “Are you back here?”

  “It’s James!” she whispered urgently. “I must go.” Hastily, she covered herself again, straightening her dress and fixing the curls that had gone astray. Matthew merely grinned and pressed a kiss to her throat. “I have to go,” she exclaimed, but she was smiling broadly.

  “I will have tonight,” he promised, while Elizabeth shook her head in amusement.

  Taking a steadying breath, she stepped out around the corner and greeted her fiancé. “Yes, my Lord, I’m here. Just feeling a little flushed is all. I wanted to get some air.”

  Lord Dabney’s eyes were guarded, but his voice was kind enough. “There isn’t much fresh air back here, I’m afraid. How about a turn in the garden?”

  She smiled as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “A walk would be lovely. Just what I need.” Elizabeth let Lord Dabney lead her away, determined not to look back. She would see Matthew in a matter of hours; she just needed to keep up the charade until then.

  Lord Dabney led her through the ballroom and out to the gardens before he handed her another glass of Champagne.

  “Why thank you.” She loved the way the drink felt on her tongue, cool and soothing. “That’s delicious. And didn’t come from our stores, I would know. Where did you get it?”

  “It’s one of mine, from the vineyards,” he replied, taking her hand and spinning her around. “I may have slipped it in under my coat.”

  “You are a devil, my Lord,” she told him, taking another sip. Everything began to take on a rosy glow. “How did you manage to do that?”

  Dabney chuckled. “My dear, Miss Hargrove, I promise you, I have my ways of getting what I want.”

  Elizabeth laughed and it was full and throaty. A small part of her wondered why she suddenly felt so comfortable with him, but the rest of her didn’t care. She let him lead her around the courtyard in a dance to the musi
c filtering out through the windows and doors, enjoying the euphoric feeling that had invaded her senses. As he spun her again, she tripped and fell against him, clutching at his lapels to find her balance. Elizabeth giggled. “My Lord, I do believe I have had too much to drink.” Feeling slighting drunk, she gazed up at him through a rosy veneer and all she could think about was how much she wanted to kiss him.

  But that couldn’t be right, she thought, trying to find the thread that would lead her to why. What about…

  “Not until it’s finished, my dear. I swear to you; the last drop is worth the wait.” Dabney pressed the glass to her lips and tipped the rest of its contents into her mouth.

  All other thoughts of denial disappeared and the only thing Elizabeth cared about was the man in front of her, the man she was going to marry. She didn’t pull back when he clutched her to him, or when he possessively pressed his mouth to hers as if he wanted to devour her. He was all that mattered. She would be his, and her heart would belong to no one else.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ellie stepped out of Seton & Associates into a light misting rain. The legalities of her grandmother’s will were fairly straightforward (or so she’d been told). If she were being perfectly honest, Ellie was still in a bit of shock. Not only had she inherited Hargrove House, but her family’s fortune as well. She was rich. Her entire life just changed.

  The revelation was almost enough to pull her thoughts from the dream she’d had the night before. That was the second time she had found her subconscious in the early 1800s. What had her name been? Elizabeth, but her surname had still been Hargrove. And dream Elizabeth was most definitely different from the real Ellie.

  Never in her life could she imagine she would carry on a steamy affair with a man in the hallway outside a party. Even if that man was as ridiculously handsome as Matthew had been. Though, she had to admit that the affair was, well, hot. She usually found it hard to even talk to men, much less invite one to her bed in the middle of the night. But oh, if she had, if she could ever be that brave and brazen…what must that be like?