WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE

by When Dreams Come True(Lit)

  Betsy sighed. “Mrs. Meeks, you’ve never seen the likes of these dresses. They are the sort of clothes only a princess would wear. One gown has real pearls—jewels of the sea— sewn across the bodice. And they’re all the finest silks. Lucy told me so. She and Mrs. Ivy spent a good part of the night trying to salvage them. Mrs. Ivy doesn’t think the seawater did too much damage since they were wrapped in a heavy velvet cape.”

  “What does Mrs. Ivy know about seawater damage?” Mrs. Meeks asked indignantly. “I’m the expert on laundry in this house. I’ve told her time and time again to keep her uppity nose out of my business, but does she listen to me? No! She just up and goes wherever she pleases, believing being Lady Penhollow’s dresser gives her special privileges!”

  She turned and looked down at Eden who closed her eyes and feigned sleep just in time. Eden could feel her scrutiny. Forget me. Think about Mrs. Ivy.

  “Why wasn’t I told of these dresses immediately?” Mrs. Meeks demanded.

  “Because Mrs. Ivy told Lucy you were too busy nursing this poor lady and she would take care of them.”

  “She would,” Mrs. Meeks snapped. “Well, she’s not going to get away with it this time. I will see those dresses for myself and decide what shall be done. Here, you stay with the lass while I go to the laundry.”

  “Please take me with you, Mrs. Meeks. I only saw the dresses for a moment and Lucy wouldn’t let me touch ‘em. I’d so like to feel the pearls on that dress. I’ve never felt real pearls before. Even Mrs. Ivy said she’d never seen such large pearls in her life. Lucy said Mrs. Ivy rubbed one of them against her teeth and then practically keeled over in a faint. She kept saying, ”They’re real, they’re real.“ ”

  “You can’t come with me. Someone must stay here.”

  “Please,” Betsy beseeched. “Look at her, Mrs. Meeks. She’s still dead to the world. I’ll run right back the minute I feel that pearl.”

  Take her, Eden silently urged.

  The housekeeper relented with a short sigh. “Very well, one minute, and no more! But let’s hurry. If Lord Pierce discovers the lass alone, we’re apt to have a rare taste of his temper.”

  Eden waited until she heard footsteps moving down the hallway. She opened her eyes. She lay in the middle of a canopied bed centered in a huge, handsomely furnished room. The furniture was polished to a high sheen. Along the wall beside an ornate wardrobe was a set of French doors. One was slightly open and the drapes covering it shifted gracefully in the breeze. Lord Pierce was a man of means.

  She threw back the sheets. Her first impulse was to flee. Immediately. They could keep her dresses. She wanted her freedom.

  However, her first attempt to stand was not successful. The world spun dizzily and she sat back down on the edge of the bed. On the second try, she succeeded in maintaining her balance and carefully made her way across the thick carpet over to the ornate wardrobe.

  Clothes, she needed clothes. The oversized cotton and lace nightdress she had on kept slipping down over her shoulder. She needed a serviceable dress that wouldn’t call too much attention to herself.

  She threw open the wardrobe door. It was empty.

  Alarmed, she started to hurry over to the dresser on the opposite wall, but swerved abruptly when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Betsy giggled and a deep male voice answered.

  Eden panicked. She didn’t want to be trapped here in the room until she knew if she was in danger or not. Without pausing to think, she slipped out the French doors—and stopped.

  Before her lay the most magnificent garden she’d ever seen. It was as if the garden she’d conjured in her dreams had come to life. Her fears faded, replaced with awe.

  Blue delphinium, yellow coreopsis, and purplish-red bee balm mingled with daisies, violet-blue flax, evergreen germander, and the silver, fleecy leaves of the herb lamb’s ear. The blooms all crowded and tumbled over each other in profusion, creating a visual feast in the morning sunshine.

  Roses were everywhere. They climbed the gray stone walls of the house that hemmed the garden in on three sides. Rosebushes formed a border around a charming stone pond with a single fountain sprouting water upwards into a cloudless blue sky. This was the sound of water that she’d heard.

  The house itself was a hodgepodge of styles as if each succeeding generation had added its own mark, but it wasn’t unattractive. Instead, the house looked lived in, and loved. A person who belonged here would be most fortunate.

  She followed the flagstone path, drawn to the music of splashing water. Dew still clung to the leaves of white sweet alyssum, pinks, and daisies lining the walk. Not a soul stirred from the windows overlooking the garden and she could almost believe herself alone in the world.

  Filled with wonder and a sense of contentment, she flipped her hair out of the way over one shoulder and bent down to smell the fragrance of a single, red rose. The petals felt velvety cool against her skin. Oh, that everything in life could be this perfect…

  A prickling sensation along her neck warned her she was being watched. The garden’s spell was broken. She whirled to look back at the doors she’d just exited. No one was there. She turned—and then froze.

  A man stood by the corner of the house.

  He was darkly handsome with hair as black as coal. His thick brows gave his face character, preventing him from being too physically perfect while adding to his masculinity.

  For the space of several heartbeats, they stared at each other, unmoving. Eden could feel his presence even with the distance between them.

  He began striding toward her. She watched him, mesmerized.

  This was no mere mortal—he couldn’t be! As he came toward her, the morning sun seemed to form a halo around him.

  The plain white shirt he wore open at the neck emphasized the strength and breadth of his broad shoulders. His buff-colored breeches clung to powerful thighs and sunlight glinted off the shine of his black top boots. A slight breeze ruffled his hair and he impatiently flicked it back with his fingers.

  He stopped, the red rosebush between them.

  His eyes mirrored the same vivid blue of the sky above them. Eden stared at him, taking in the shadow of his beard, the laugh lines at the corner of his wide, generous mouth.

  “You’re awake.” His voice was a deep, rich baritone. She could feel its timbre all the way down to her toes.

  She pulled back, suddenly remembering herself. She might have turned to run, except that he’d anticipated her move and caught hold of her hand.

  His hands were rough, a sign he was accustomed to hard work, but the fingers were long and tapered.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I won’t harm you. I want to help.” He paused, and then raised her hand to his lips, his gaze locking with hers.

  Something distinctly feminine rose and unfurled inside Eden. The garden, the sky, even the firm feel of the earth beneath her feet faded into oblivion and there was only this man, and the brush of his lips against the back of her hand. Her skin tingled at his touch, and then warmed.

  “Let me be bold enough to introduce myself. I’m Pierce Kirrier, the earl of Penhollow.”

  Lord Pierce. And he was everything she’d ever imagined a lord should be.

  Eden gave her head a small shake, struggling to clear her befuddled senses. The oversized gown slipped off one shoulder. His eyes followed the movement of the material, and then rested on her bare shoulder. His hold tightened and she could feel his body tense.

  Eden recognized the flash of lust in his eyes. Numerous men had stared at her in such a way… but this time, she seemed to be equally affected.

  He released his hold on her hand and it took a second before she realized she was free. She demurely pulled the gown up over her shoulder. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.” She almost didn’t recognize the huskiness in her voice.

  “As I am you,” he answered with a cavalier’s courtliness before prodding, “Miss… ?”

  “Eden—” she started without thin
king and then stopped. What was she doing? What sorcery did this man wield to make her forget how dangerous her situation was?

  “Eden,” he said, testing her name, and then smiled as if he liked it. “Like the garden.”

  “Yes.”

  “And your last name?”

  Eden shook her head. She wasn’t about to divulge any more information. Images of Nasim and Gadi flashed through her mind. She shied away, backing toward the French doors.

  He followed. “Wait, I’ve upset you and that wasn’t my intention. I need to know where you’re from and how you came to be adrift in that boat so that I can help you.”

  Eden hurried toward the French doors. She wasn’t going to give him information that would lead anyone to her.

  He grabbed her elbow and turned her around, gently forcing her to face him. “Miss Eden, you have suffered a horrible ordeal. You do not need to tell me any more than you wish. I will not pry. I think only of seeing you safely returned home.”

  “Home?” she repeated bitterly. “I don’t think I know the meaning of the word.” For the first time, she realized exactly how alone she was, how hopeless her situation. The colorful flowers of the garden started spinning, and to her horror she discovered she was about to swoon.

  “Miss Eden, are you all right?” She heard his voice as if it came from the end of a very long tunnel. She reached out, searching for something to hold—and found him.

  Strong arms captured her before she fell to the ground and she was vaguely conscious of being carried over to the bench beside the fountain.

  Pierce carefully lowered the young woman to the bench, very conscious of the fact she was naked beneath the oversized nightgown. He knelt on the ground beside her, an arm around her shoulders. Her hair felt silky smooth. He could see the shadow of her nipples beneath the material.

  No woman had been more aptly named. Eden.

  Lush. Exotic. Mysterious Eden.

  The heady, demanding rush of sexual desire pounded through his veins, mingling with common sense. She’d been running away from him before she swooned.

  Her lashes fluttered.

  “Are you all right?”

  She blushed. The color was becoming in spite of the sunburn she’d suffered. Several pale freckles dotted her nose. “Yes, I think so.” She sat up on her own, pulling away from him, her gaze lowered. “Thank you. I’ve never done that before.”

  Pierce rose to his feet. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “I am, aren’t I?” She raised magnificent green eyes up to meet his, pinning him with her gaze. “And I have you to thank for rescuing me.”

  For the first time in his life, Pierce felt tongue-tied. He dared not speak for fear he’d babble. His throat had grown dry and the air around them seemed to have suddenly turned unusually warm… especially when he noticed that her nipples had hardened, tempting him to throw civilization aside and make love to her on the garden bench in the bright, full light of day.

  Mrs. Meeks’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Lord Penhollow, we’re blessed that you found her!”

  She charged across the garden to them while Betsy stood anxiously in the doorway.

  “We only turned our backs on her for one moment, my lord, and the lass disappeared. Lucky we are you found her.” The housekeeper skidded to a halt and bobbed a quick curtsy. “I’ll take her in now. Dr. Hargrave has just arrived and is anxious to see her.”

  Pierce stepped protectively in front of Eden. “Mrs. Meeks, I thought I ordered you to stay by her side.”

  The housekeeper winced. “That you did, my lord.”

  Pierce shook his head. “You heard about the dresses in the laundry, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, they are beautiful, my lord,” she said on a sigh.

  “I suspected you would have to take a peek. Let’s see if we can’t take better care of our guest, shall we?”

  “That we shall, my lord. Come, dear, let’s take you inside,” Mrs. Meeks said, motioning Eden to step forward, but the young woman turned to Pierce.

  “You aren’t going to punish her, are you?” she asked, her eyes wide with alarm.

  He gave a sharp laugh. “If I thought it would do any good, I might try. No, Miss Eden, I wouldn’t dare punish Mrs. Meeks or any of these rascals from Hobbles Moor who claim to be my servants. Mrs. Meeks has been with the family since before I was born and I know her better than I know my own mother.”

  “And listens to me better, too,” Mrs. Meeks added cheekily. She didn’t wait for Pierce’s retort but reached for Eden and started shepherding her toward the bedroom door. “You poor lass,” she crooned. “You must be in a terrible state to be wandering the garden half dressed. And barefooted too! We shall change all that, and I’ll send Betsy for a pot of tea and some toast. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, miss?”

  Eden nodded but sent a cautious look over her shoulder toward Pierce. He nodded his encouragement but she didn’t seem to relax. In fact, Mrs. Meeks was almost having to prod her toward the house.

  Very curious… Pierce found himself wondering just exactly why Eden had been in the garden when she obviously should have stayed in bed and rested. The dark circles under her eyes attested to her need for more rest.

  His mind mulling over Eden’s contradictory behavior, he followed the women. He was not so lost in thought that he didn’t enjoy the glimpse of very trim ankles from beneath her oversized nightdress. Eden.

  The pert Betsy noticed his interest and, as he entered the door, she gave him a knowing wink of approval, but they both sobered immediately when they stepped into the bedroom and discovered his mother waiting impatiently. Beside her stood a short, balding man with a bulbous nose, Dr. Hargrave.

  At one time, Lady Penhollow had not only been a great heiress but one of the reigning beauties of London. Pierce favored her in looks. They both had dark eyebrows, strong jaws, and blue eyes that could slice a person open with their displeasure if they wished to do so.

  But life had been hard for her. After her marriage, she’d thought to settle down to the life of devoted, and beloved, wife. Such was not the case. Pierce’s father had not only been vain and selfish but also a dedicated gambler. He’d left his London bride in Cornwall and had gone on to enjoy the high life in the city without the encumbrances of family.

  He’d heaped on further humiliation when he’d died leaving his small family destitute. Pierce had been fifteen at the time but he’d grown up fast.

  “Why was our guest wandering around the garden?” Lady Penhollow demanded, her voice imperious.

  Eden took a step back and almost walked into Pierce. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her tension eased slightly. “Miss Eden, this is my mother, Lady Penhollow, and Dr. Hargrave,” he said before answering his mother. “She woke and must have become disoriented.”

  “Disoriented?” Lady Penhollow asked. Her gaze slid from his face down to where his hand rested on Eden’s shoulder. She lifted an eyebrow. “Then it is a very good thing Dr. Hargrave is here,” she replied succinctly.

  Crossing over to Eden, she stepped between the girl and Pierce. Placing her own Norwich wool shawl around Eden’s shoulders, she steered her toward the good doctor. Eden looked back at him, anxiety widening her eyes.

  Pierce knew his mother well. She wasn’t motivated by a sense of protectiveness. No, her actions were her not-so-subtle way of letting him know she considered Miss Eden unsuitable.

  He stepped forward, refusing to be ruled by his mother. “It is good of you to drop by, Horace,” he said. “This is Miss Eden. I’m afraid she doesn’t seem to remember her last name,” he said.

  “Doesn’t remember?” Dr. Hargrave said, a sparkle of interest appearing in his eyes.

  “How odd.” Lady Penhollow droned the words out with just the right suspicious inflection.

  Pierce felt a flash of anger, especially when Miss Eden looked ready to stammer out some sort of explanation. He smoothly took command. “Miss Eden
, Dr. Hargrave is the best physic in Cornwall. Trust him… and don’t feel you owe any of us an apology of any sort,” he said in a low voice.

  She glanced up at him, and then rewarded him with a shy smile. It’s impossible, he thought. She’s even more beautiful when she smiles. Lost in that smile, he almost forgot where he was—that is, until Dr. Hargrave spoke.

  “Explain to me again what happened when she woke, Lord Penhollow,” he ordered. He set his black doctor’s bag which carried his leeches and the like by the side of the bed, giving Pierce a moment to regain his bearings before repeating the events from when he found Eden in the garden.

  “This isn’t a good sign. Not good at all,” the doctor said. “I shall have to examine her.”

  “Examine?” Eden asked, turning to Pierce.

  “It’s all right,” he assured her. “Dr. Hargrave won’t harm you.”

  “Of course, I won’t harm her,” Dr. Hargrave said. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. For a moment, Pierce sensed the doctor was not immune to Eden’s beauty either and he felt a second of jealousy.

  But then Dr. Hargrave blustered, “That nonsense about fearing physicians is old-fashioned. There are few of us who are quacks anymore. It’s all science now.” He began feeling her head with his fingertips as if searching for bumps. “For privacy’s sake, I’m going to ask you and your mother to please step from the room, my lord. It should only take a few minutes. I would also like you to leave one of the maids, if you would.”

  Pierce nodded for Mrs. Meeks to stay and then gestured for his mother to precede him in the direction of the door, but Eden’s voice stopped them.

  “Please, is it possible that I may have one of my dresses?” she asked diffidently.

  Pierce looked to Mrs. Meeks who answered, “They are still far too wet, miss, but Betsy can find you something suitable from…” Her voice trailed off as, uncertain how far she could go, she looked toward his mother.

  “I’m sure something can be found,” his mother said briskly and left the room.

  “I’ll have Betsy give a look,” Mrs. Meeks assured Eden. “We’ll find something nice and bring you tea and toast too. She can have that, can’t she Dr. Hargrave?”