The Haunting at Hawke's Moor

by Camille Oster

  Even as she missed him, the cool air was welcome across her heated skin. Her chemise was bunched around her midsection, but her nakedness didn't bother her. She wanted him to see her.

  Calming her breath, she opened her eyes and saw the curtains around the bed. "You brought me into your realm."

  Turning to her, he placed his arm around her and drew her to him until her back was against him. He kissed her shoulder and she gloried in the touch, relaxing into the embrace. "It wasn't intentional."

  As she lay there, she pushed away the thoughts, the questions that threatened to steal the languid pleasantness she felt. She didn't want to think; she wanted to lay there with a strong arm around her and pretend everything was going to be fine. Maybe it was and she needed to stop worrying. She'd just experienced the most glorious thing that had ever happened to her.

  "Sleep now," he said and she drew a breath, feeling the firmness of him behind her. Yes, she could sleep now. She was warm and safe, and he would watch over her.

  It felt as though barely a second had passed and she woke to sunlight streaming through the window. She sat up and looked around. There was no sign of him. Was he lying there next to her but she couldn't feel him? Was he lost to her during the daylight hours?

  Getting up, she dressed, noting the soreness in her body. Not exactly sore, more a reminder of the time they'd shared.

  She didn't know how to feel. Should she feel guilty? Had she done something unnatural? It had been the most beautiful thing she'd ever experienced and when she closed her eyes, she could still imagine his lips on her neck, along her shoulder. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

  Looking down, she saw her bandaged hands—his bandages. She felt a rush of heat through her body and she had to inhale to calm the want that still ached in her. Most of all perhaps, her heart. Her lips bit together. Her life would be infinitely richer with such exploration in her life. She even felt different, as if she'd discovered a secret she knew had been there, but denied her. Some things made more sense now, and that felt calming.

  But he was not like her. They did not belong together. Would nature not try to force them apart? Or perhaps she was reading too much into this. Did he even know the comfort she'd found in him, and could she live without it now? It would very well be that it had meant a great deal less to him. He had pushed her away so many times; perhaps he meant to do so again. These were questions she couldn't answer and couldn't escape.

  Taking a deep breath, she readied herself. There was work to distract her. Her hands were going to suffer, but she didn't care. The evening would come and she would see him again. A frowned crossed her brow. What if he was not pleased with this, with what they'd done? What then? That would perhaps be a new form of torture the world could smite her with, because she would ache for those kisses and the feel of his arms around her.

  Chapter 35:

  They got less done with the field that day, but it was still progress. Anne's dress was covered in mud and it would take quite a bit of effort to get in clean again, but that could wait until they were through with the plowing. Her head had ached when she'd woken that morning, but it had started to dissipate.

  Anne lingered outside once they had stabled the cow and provided it with hay. Shortly after the midday meal, Mr. Turner had come by and given them a bacon hock, which Lisle was now excitedly preparing for their supper. He'd assured Anne that there was a good chance they would have a calf running around the fields by summer. Then for a few minutes, he'd stood with crossed arms and shaking his head as he considered her plowing efforts. "Done a champion's job there. Looks like the arse end of a donkey."

  "Well, thank you for your kind words of encouragement."

  He looked at her as if she were insane. "You might be better off doing the pulling and let the cow do the driving."

  Anne smiled tightly, remembering that he had been kind and brought them a bacon hock. Manners were obviously pointless in Mr. Turner's book.

  The kitchen smelled delicious as Anne walked in, the fragrant smell of the bacon making her mouth water.

  "It was nice of Mr. Turner to bring it," Anne said. "Nice in deed, but rarely in words."

  "Not the only one. Funny that, isn't it? Although people seem unable to stop their true nature once dead."

  Anne stopped cleaning her hands and looked up. "I suppose they have little incentive to hide what they are." She wondered if Lisle was speaking of Alfie, who seemed to have shown a much darker personality since his death. But Anne was glad to observe that it seemed to discourage Lisle from being with him. "You don't think he would try to harm you by keeping you there with them?" Staying with them for any time did their bodies harm, which might explain the way Anne had felt that morning.

  "Elizabeth will always see me right."

  "Of course," Anne said. She hadn't even thought of that. All those threats that she wouldn't be returned, when she could always find someone else to do it. Anne couldn't see Elizabeth refusing; she'd also seen her stand up to her father when he'd been bent on vengeance.

  They discussed how they were running low on flour and decided Lisle would make her way to the village the next day, then they ate in silence and Anne turned her thoughts to the man upstairs. How would he be tonight? Would he stay clear of her?

  She felt nervous as she stood in front of the door to the master's bedroom. The dark wood looked firm and solid, almost forbidding. She was scared to go inside—not scared of him exactly, more scared of how he'd react. Did he think less of her? All she needed now was a disdainful ghost.

  Taking a breath, she opened the door. It was his world on the other side and she saw him sitting by the fire. "Were you waiting for me?"

  He looked over but didn't say anything. Anne bit her lip and closed the door behind her, walking to take the seat opposite. "It hurts me to be here."

  "Yes," he said. "You cannot live here and thrive. You will sicken."

  She nodded, confirming what she already knew. "Men are always bad for you," she smiled.

  His dark eyes glittered in the firelight. There was challenge in them. "Yet, I feel as if it was I that was ravaged last night."

  Anne's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Then I must apologize."

  "I refuse to accept."

  Biting her lip again, she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering, down his torso, the firm hips and powerful thighs covered in black cloth. Heat licked her insides, recalled their illicit activities the previous night. "Will you keep me here even if it harms me?"

  He sobered slightly. "I want to." Butterflies took off in her stomach, but it wasn't fear. Then he softened again. "But I'm not sure you would forgive me if I did."

  The truth was that she didn't exactly want to go, to be alone.

  "I look dreadful," she said, looking down her dress, which had splotches of mud along the hem.

  "Yes, you are dragging mud all over the carpet."

  Looking at it, she saw dry mud crumbles where she had walked. He had carpet; she didn't. In fact, his version of the room was much more cozy, even warmer.

  "You should take that off," he suggested.

  "I have no screen."

  "Will it make you feel better if you don't see me?"

  "Yes." It was true; she was too nervous to undress in front of him, but still, she wanted to be undressed.

  "As you wish," he said and the room shifted into darkness. Getting up, she walked behind the screen and drew breath as she undid the first button. The air moved and she knew he was there, standing behind her. Fingertips ran along the top of her spine and her skin contracted in painful goose bumps. Her nipples hardened impossibly and his body pressed to hers, his hand snaking around her waist. She couldn't see him, but she could feel every part of him. Her core pulsed with want as lips descended on her shoulder and large hands cupped her breasts.

  Anne lost track of what she was doing, could only reach her hands back to touch him, wanting those lips on hers. His hardness pressed into her backside, and she pressed back. She
ached to have him inside her.

  Gently, he pushed the dress along her shoulders and further until only her chemise was left. "No impediments," he said, lifting it over her head. The feel of his hands on her bare breasts was utterly divine. They were warm now, which meant they were together again. She moaned as fingertips gently teased the swollen nubs and her head lay back on his shoulder. This was utterly divine and right now she didn't care if her head would ache in the morning. "Please," she begged.

  Spinning her around, he lifted her to him, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed. At that point, she didn't exactly care if she never made it back; this was all that mattered, the hard length against her aching entrance. She was utterly wanton, needed this more than she needed air.

  "Your passion humbles me," he whispered and placed her down. As she watched, he undressed, and she loved every second of it, watching more and more of him being revealed. He was utterly beautiful.

  The mattress shifted as his knee came down on it, and his hand ran across her belly and across the mounds of her breasts.

  "I think I must let you ride me tonight," he said, pulling her above him as he lay down. She couldn't wait to have that firm length buried inside her and shifted herself above him, sinking down slowly until she was impaled. She rose and sunk as her need required, watching as every part of his body tightened. His eyes were glassy with wonder and pleasure. Pleasure radiated out to every part of her body and she had to savor it so as to not rush through this too quickly. This was too good to rush.

  She kept rising and sinking, even as consciousness of what she was doing had left her. The pleasure took over entirely as his hands ground her to him. He arched into her and her world convulsed around her, waves of exquisiteness flowing through every part of her.

  By the time some semblance of consciousness returned, she lay on his chest and he was stroking her hair. Exhaling deeply, she enjoyed the feeling of being together, just the two of them.

  "I might not let you leave," he said through strained breath.

  The idea didn't sound half bad at that moment, she thought. Placing kisses on his shoulder, she reveled in the taste of him. She loved the way he tasted. She loved that he was still inside her and neither of them was rushing to part. "What if I promise I'll be back?"

  "Then grudgingly, I will let you sleep. I might stare at you all night."

  "I might dream of the things you do to me."

  "Then I would definitely wake you. I am not letting you do this without me."

  She smiled, feeling the exhaustion steal all her strength. It would be so nice to slip away into sleep right there on top of him, feel his arms around her, the firmness of his body beneath her. But instead, he rolled her over and withdrew from her. "Good night, sweet Anne," he said and disappeared.

  Anne let sleep claim her. Her body felt sated and every niggling pain from sore muscles or sore hands had lifted. She was safe and she would stay that way. There was nothing to worry about.

  Chapter 36:

  Anne woke before dawn. She'd slept soundly, but there was still an ache in her head. It was the price she had to pay for the pleasure of being with him and she was prepared to pay it. Care had to be taken not to stay too long, but if she was careful, she saw no reason why she couldn’t spend some time in the company she craved into her very soul.

  Her dress was clean when she put in on. Somehow he'd managed to clean it, although she doubted he'd slaved over it with a brush. Probably he'd just wished it clean and it had been.

  Pinning up her hair, she made her way out of her room and walked down the dark stairs. Lisle was going to the village today and would be gone for most of the day. She would leave just as dawn broke.

  As Anne stepped down, a figure appeared in the hall. For a moment she feared it was Alfie, who still made her nervous, but a softer figure formed, with a long dress. Elizabeth.

  Anne smiled, still slightly disconcerted when a spirit appeared in front of her. They made no bones about it when they wanted to talk. "Is there something I can help you with?"

  "What are your intentions with my father?"

  Raising her eyebrows, Anne inhaled, not exactly knowing how to respond.

  "No one in this house can fail to ignore the change in energy. This house reflects my father and at the moment, his is being decidedly… exuberant."

  Heat flared up Anne's cheeks. "Ah, uh," she stammered, her cheeks flaming red. She didn't quite know what to do with herself.

  "Exuberant is, of course, joyful. Lack thereof, is not something I wish to see."

  Anne didn't know what to say. This was not a discussion she felt comfortable having, particularly with a young girl. But she had to remember Elizabeth wasn't a fifteen-year-old innocent; she had probably seen all there was to human nature.

  "My father has suffered greatly and I do not wish to see him suffer again."

  "I have no intention of seeing him suffer."

  "Eventually, he will."

  "What are you saying?"

  Elizabeth frowned. "I just wish you to take care. Do not toy with him. I fear you will hurt him."

  "I have never been in the habit of toying with people."

  The spirit shifted to sit down on the sofa. "Sometimes happiness is more fearful than anything else," she said. "It is only from a height which we can fall."

  "Isn't it worth the risk?"

  "He is not as strong as you think and you have a unique ability to affect him. He seems to conform to you."

  "I don't understand."

  "He seems to become what you want him to be."

  "Well, we seemed to have developed a rapport that is very… nice," Anne said, looking away in embarrassment.

  "You just need to keep in mind that what you do affects him too, and affects all of us."

  "I don't have any intention of developing anything further, or anything different. This is a nice state, don't you think? We could continue exactly as we are."

  "Yes, let's keep it this way," Elizabeth said. "Exactly like this."

  It wasn't a hard commitment to make. This new development seemed to serve everyone nicely. Elizabeth faded and Anne resumed her progress. No, this wasn't a bad state at all. Every divorcee should have a ghost lover who drove her to utter distraction every night, watching over her as she slept. This would be quite tolerable.

  There would be no plowing that day as Lisle was away. Anne had to find some other way of busying herself. In truth, she couldn't wait until dusk, feeling the excitement sing along her body already. But Lisle returned much sooner than expected, and she returned in a carriage, dragging a sack of flour out of it. How had this happened?

  "There's a letter that needs to be delivered to you," Lisle said as Anne met her outside. "They came specifically to deliver it."

  Anne took the letter from the driver and offered him some refreshments in the kitchen. He gratefully accepted and Anne returned to the parlor to open the letter. It had to be important if they sent someone all the way out here to deliver it.

  Dear Miss Sands,

  I regret to inform you that a claim has been laid against your ownership of the property you currently reside in by a Mr. Harold Kinelly. It has been lodged with the magistrate and we have just been informed of it. I need guidance from you as to how to proceed. I am aware that the claimant is your son and you may well be aware, and supportive, of his claim. Please, at your earliest opportunity, advise me how to proceed.

  Your servant and faithful friend,

  Charles Charterham, QC

  What did he mean a claim against her ownership? Harry was contesting her ownership of Hawke's Moor? This couldn't be real, but they'd sent a carriage all the way out here to deliver this letter. Was this a jest on Harry's part? He wouldn't do this to her. This house was all she had.

  Feeling utterly flustered, she marched into the kitchen where the carriage driver was sitting having a cup of tea.

  "If it is quite alright, I will return to London with you."
r />   "I was hired out of Goathland, but you are welcome to come with me that far."

  "Yes, of course," she said absently, trying to fight the tears that were threatening. "I can take the train from there. Please wait for me before you go," she said and rushed out.

  The moment she had felt safe, this had come to challenge it all, to tear down everything she had built. Harry sought to take the house from her. How could this have happened? It had to be a mistake. Harry wouldn't do anything to hurt her.

  Returning to her room, she threw herself down on her bed for a moment. She just needed a moment to compose herself. This was an overreaction. She would go and sort it, and it would all be fine again. It was simply a misunderstanding on Mr. Charterham's behalf.

  Anne was much more composed when she returned downstairs, wearing her traveling coat and her reticule. Her umbrella was firmly gripped in her hand as she stepped outside and continued into the back of the carriage. She drew a deep breath as they set off. Lisle stood in the doorway and she waved goodbye before closing the door behind her.

  Funnily, Anne had no desire to go to London, even if this worrying letter wasn't on her mind. She was now quite content at home. Tonight, there would be no wonderful evening in her room; instead, she would have an uncomfortable one on the train, heading to news she didn’t want to confirm.

  It was hard to keep her nerves from getting the better of her. This was what she'd feared, that something else would come along and drive her further down now that she was just recovering from the blows she'd been dealt. The worst was that Harry was involved, but no, this wouldn’t be something Harry would device; this had to be on the urging of his father. Stanford was attacking her again, probably wanting to lay his hands on this property. Why would he not if he saw some means to get it? He would spare her nothing if he saw a means to.