A Passion So Strong

by Chasity Bowlin

  Sebastian frowned as he stooped and examined the holes. They were all of similar size. Whatever item the blackguards sought, it was not overly large, but certainly took up more space than a bit of jewelry. “Surely even the most backwards of country people do not imagine that a ghostly figure is out here with a spade digging in the night?”

  She shook her head in response. “I do not believe that they think that at all, Lord Strong. I think that they have been convinced that continuing to work for us will result in misfortune. Whether that misfortune is visited upon them by the living or the dead is irrelevant.”

  He rose then. “So one of the former occupants was to have hidden items of value. Typically one would assume that a woman would hide jewelry… but from the size and shape of these excavations, I would have to assume she hid quite a bit of a jewelry, or something else all together.”

  Anne cocked her head to one side as she looked at the neatly dug holes. “I hadn’t thought about it, but it does appear that they are looking for something quite large. Of course, I’ve never heard anyone say precisely what it is that Winifred Elliott was to have hidden on the property before she was executed. It would have to be something of value for someone to go to these lengths… And what does a woman possess of value if not jewelry?”

  “Perhaps we need to do a bit of research about Winnifred. Are there journals or ledgers left behind?”

  “Possibly,” she replied. “Everything has remained in the house, but the library is in terrible disarray. With all that I’ve had to do, I simply haven’t managed to put it right yet.”

  Sebastian stepped over a large log and offered her his hand. When she accepted it, he tried to keep his focus on the fact that he was simply assisting her with balance lest she fall, but the sensation of her hand in his, of her closeness was more temptation than he could resist. As she stepped down from the log, the force jolted her forward until her chest was pressed against him. Standing there, their bodies touching in the dim morning light, shrouded in fog, he savored every point of contact between them, committing the moment to memory.

  Anne blushed furiously and moved to step away from him. But he was reluctant to let her go. With her hand clasped in his, it was not difficult to tug her forward again until they were once again pressed chest to chest. Her indrawn breath, the way she parted her lips, the sweep of her lashes as she lowered them, told the story plain enough. She’d enjoyed touching him, being touched by him. He’d regretted his decision to let her go the night before without tasting the sweetness of her lips. Whether it was a wise decision or not, he did not intend to spend another night alone with his regret.

  Sebastian lowered his head slightly, just enough that his lips pressed against hers. It was a soft kiss, gentle.But the power of it was still jolting. She started, as stunned by the sensations as he was. It was like a current running through his body. Everywhere they touched, every point of contact, was intensified. Every sense was overwhelmed. The smell of her perfume, the softness of her lips beneath his, and he would swear that, in that moment, he could hear not just his own heartbeat but hers as well.

  There was nothing in his experience to account for it. That simple touch of his lips to hers, in what was a relatively chaste kiss, jolted him all the way to his toes. He was so stunned by it, in fact, that when she stepped away from him, he didn’t think to stop her. He wasn’t capable of thought at all. How could the simple touching of their lips effect him so deeply? Had Lady Athena and Lady Minerva truly fashioned a love spell? It wasn’t a logical explanation by any stretch of the imagination, but then what he’d just experienced defied logic.

  “We should return,” she said softly.

  Her voice trembled, and a part of him gloried in that. Another part of him refused to formulate a verbal response because he feared his own voice would tremble as well. Instead, he responded with a nod. With her arm linked through his, he led the way, but both of them were completely lost in their own thoughts, preoccupied with what had just occurred and what it could possible mean.

  As they walked back towards the house, the sound of horses drew them up short. Reaching the road, Sebastian looked ahead at the coach that was rapidly approaching them. It was going far too fast in the early hours, especially with the visibility as poor as it was.

  “It’s the Squire,” Anne said. “Though I cannot imagine where it is that he would be returning from in such haste at this hour.”

  Sebastian watched the coach slow, saw the curtain at the window pull back slightly. He could feel the intensity of the gaze from within. There was malice in it. “He is attempting to court you, from what I understand. Your aunts indicate that he is quite taken with you.”

  “He is quite taken with Evenwold. He has tried many times over the years to purchase it from my guardian, but the former Marquess felt that it was not his place to sell it. I think he always intended for it to be the last bastion for his little orphan.”

  The words were bitter, but her tone was not. Sebastian wondered, not for the first time, if she suspected that the story of her origin was not a fabrication and that she was in fact a blood relation to the Ravenner family.

  “Have you inherited it outright then?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered. “The house and the land still belong to Blackraven. In this instance, that may be a good thing. The squire would press us horribly if he thought it would make a difference… He is less inclined to plague the Marquess.”

  “And Ambrose has no intention of selling?”

  She looked at him askance. “Ambrose? You are on rather intimate terms with my guardian, aren’t you? How is it that you know one another, Lord Strong?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “We have known one another since we were boys at school and we managed to survive the Peninsular Wars together as well as some less than pleasant situations in India. So, yes. You might say that we know one another quite well… Now, are you certain that he has no desire to sell Evenwold? Would it not be easier for all of you, if he did?”

  “He has no intention of selling, and even if he did, I would beg him not to. I belong here,” she said with conviction.

  “That is a strange sentiment for one who has experienced nothing but strife and difficulty since arriving in a place,” he pointed out.

  She shrugged, an elegant motion of her shoulders that drew his attention to the soft curve where neck and shoulder met. Pulling himself away from such a disastrous line of thought, he focused on her words as she replied.

  “Evenwold is my home. It is far more suitable for me than the grandness of Ravenner Abbey,” she answered. “I always felt out of place there, as if I didn’t quite belong in such a setting. Evenwold, despite the strange goings and the fact that someone clearly does not wish for us to be here, is far more to my liking. The size of the house, the plainness of it, they suit me, Lord Strong. I am far too practical and far too grounded in the day to day to have my head turned by fancy houses and luxurious furnishings.”

  “But you were born to luxury.”

  “I resided in it. I was not born to it. Every day that I spent at Ravenner Abbey, while I was treated very generously and always made to feel welcome, with Minerva and Athena doting on me in my childhood, it still left me feeling out of sorts.”

  “And it is not so welcoming now that Ambrose has taken a bride, I understand,” he said, stepping closer to a large oak tree that had been carved with many strange markings. He traced the designs worked into the bark with a frown.

  She too stepped closer to examine the tree. “We should have Minerva and Athena look at these. They appear to be some sort of rune or magical symbol… I haven’t the faintest idea what they mean. And yes, Lord Strong, my welcome at Ravenner Abbey become much cooler following Ambrose’s marriage. The Marchioness Blackraven is less than amenable to having other women, specifically unmarried women, residing under her roof… regardless of whether or not they are the sort to inspire any untoward behavior in a man.”

  Did she honestly believ
e that she was incapable of arousing a man’s passion? She did, he realized. Anne was not fishing for compliments, at all, but merely expressing her honest belief that no man would find her appealing. “You are mistaken, Lady Anne, if you perceive yourself to be no threat or competition to Lady Blackraven or any other woman. I can attest quite vehemently to your appeal.”

  She blushed again and moved away from him. “Forgive me, Lord Strong. I did not mean to say—Perhaps we should return to the house. You’ve seen enough to have some idea of what exactly is taking place on the grounds.”

  “You do not have to return to Ravenner Abbey, Miss Everleigh. But you are not required to remain here at Evenwold, either. There are options for you, surely.”

  “What options? To be a governess or a companion? I do not have the temperament for such positions, my lord. I am too independent, too determined to have my own way in things to ever be content working for someone else. Surely, you must see that?”

  He smiled, because she was right. But it hadn’t been employment he’d seen for her, but marriage. Anne was not a woman who should live her life alone. She deserved to be loved, to be treasured, and to be shown daily that she could inspire passion and desire. “I see many things, Anne. I see that you are rusticating here in the country, hiding away from society and living a life of servitude to your aunts who offer you little or no help—I cannot help but feel you deserve more! Do you not wish for a husband, for children?”

  She stepped away from him turning toward the house, her spine stiff and her shoulders back. “You have formed a number of opinions about me and about my life, my lord, for one who has known me for such a short time! What have I to offer a husband? I have no fortune, no dowry? I’m plain, and do not insult my intelligence by saying otherwise for I know the truth of it. And I’ll never be a meek and biddable wife. I haven’t the temperament for that either!”

  He had said too much, he’d offended her and he had to make amends. “Forgive me, Miss Everleigh. I have spoken out of turn… and yes, I have formed opinions. I dislike seeing you work so very hard here when others will not do the same. Gratitude is a fine quality to possess… so long as we do not allow it to make slaves of us. And I would never suggest you be a meek and biddable wife to any man, but I would suggest that there are men in this world who have no desire for such a creature. There are men who would prefer a strong woman who knows her own mind. I know that I certainly would.”

  It was not a statement of intent on his part, but it was close enough that they both realized just how charged their current situation was and what dangerous ground they were treading upon.

  She let out a heavy sigh. “It is I who should beg you forgiveness, my lord. I am being overly sensitive about a subject that many people have quizzed me on. Very few people understand that this is the life I have chosen and not simply what is left to me. Ambrose… the Marquess, offered to give me a townhouse in London, to continue to sponsor my ill fated forays into society in the hopes that I might one day find a husband.”

  “And you declined? Is the idea of marriage so abhorrent to you?” he asked, far more invested in her reply than he wished to be.

  “Not abhorrent, but it certainly seemed an unlikely outcome when after three seasons I barely had callers, much less suitors. He also offered to hire companions for me that I may live out my time as a bluestocking spinster if that is what I choose. He has been quite generous with me, but that is not the life that appeals to me. I find that the country is much more to my taste… if only I could be left to enjoy it and to make the estate prosper without this nonsense. I cannot even go to the barn in the mornings without looking over my shoulder!”

  He went on alert then. Instantly. “What happened in the barn, Anne?”

  “It’s better if I show you,” she replied.

  Sebastian allowed her to lead the way, only too well aware that he was not going to like what she had to say.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The carriage rumbled along the lane toward Alcott Hall. Inside, Squire Benjamin Alcott glowered at his sister who was seated across from him. “Who is this Lord Strong that has come to town and why are the ladies of Evenwold entertaining him?”

  Elizabeth frowned at him. “He’s been sent here by the Marquess to assist those women with the estate… Though I daresay that Minerva and Athena will be matchmaking. They have led you a merry chase with their ward. Miss Anne Everleigh has clearly moved on to younger and greener pastures. You should have pressed your suit with Anne when you had the opportunity, brother!”

  “I did press it,” he snapped. “She refused me.”

  “As most ladies do… it has never swayed you before,” she replied.

  “Would you have me force her?” Anne was not some farmer’s daughter who could be silenced with coin. Nor was she some pale and sickly miss who could be easily subdued. She was larger, stronger and when she’d fended him off in the garden, she’d done so far more effectively than he cared to admit.

  “I would have you do whatever is necessary to gain access to Evenwold! You know what is hidden there! You know the heavy price we will pay, the price we are already paying, if we do not obtain it!” she hissed.

  “We don’t know for certain,” he protested. “Winifred Elliott’s curse can only be lifted when her descendants once again reside at Evenwold. Finding that book will change nothing! As for Anne, you do not know she is a witch!”

  “You’ve sensed her power!” Elizabeth insisted. “It isn’t just Winifred’s curse we need to be free of, or have you forgotten? We are practically enslaved to him! Woo her, brother. Woo her and sway her to your side. If need be, we’ll cast a love spell of our own!”

  He sneered. “Those foolish women think it was their spell that lured me to her. They have no notion of what is hidden within the walls of that house. Nor do they understand the nature of the curse that Winifred Elliott placed not only on us, but on the entirety of Penwickett.”

  “No, they do not. No records of her interrogation were kept for them to access. We need to keep it that way… especially with Lord Strong present. If he asks questions in the village, we need to be certain they are not answered.”

  “They will not be,” he said dismissively. “Thanks to Winifred’s curse, everyone in the village is suspicious and paranoid. They will never trust a stranger, especially one staying at Evenwold. It’s a wonder they haven’t burned the place to the ground already.”

  “You’d best hope they don’t decide to now. It was your idea, brother dear, to harness the power of Winifred Elliott’s grimoire in combination with that of our own grandmother’s! Had you not boasted of it to him the last time he came to Alcott Hall we would not be in this predicament. Need I remind you what happens to those who disappoint him?” she reminded him imperiously. “He means to have that book… our only hope is to find it and use it first!”

  The Squire swallowed convulsively. She did not need to remind him. He was all too familiar with the unfortunate fates of those who had dared to fail his compatriot. But it wasn’t entirely his fault. It had been Elizabeth, after all, who’d brought him into their midst. He wouldn’t kill them, but he would make them long for the release of death.

  “You invited him to Alcott Hall,” he said accusingly. “You lured him there because you wanted to bed him and share in his power. Now we are both caught in his web!”

  “Yes, we most assuredly are. And we have created a very tenuous situation in the village… if it comes to it, they will turn on us, brother dear. Our only hope at surviving him and his minions is to have more power than he does. For that, we need the book… and we need Anne Everleigh. Even those idiots at the inn recognize that she has power!”

  He glowered at her. “There was no need for you to converse with such rough fellows. It is beneath you. Beneath us.”

  “Those men are the ones that have helped us to search the property… and unless you plan to dig the rest of the woods by yourself, then one of us most assuredly does need to be in conv
ersation with them!”

  “We could scry for it again,” he said. “We have not attempted it in some time… and I did overhear Athena and Minerva say that the level of energy about the property has shifted dramatically since Anne’s arrival. It’s true. She is quite the catalyst!”

  “Which will undoubtedly only intensify any spell that Winifred placed on the book to shield it from us! It will make it more difficult to find, Reginald. Not less!”

  “We don’t know that!” he protested. “We should at least attempt it… and we need to ascertain what we can of this Lord Strong. I dislike having an unknown in our midst.”

  “You dislike having a rival for Anne’s chilly affections… Whether he is here or not, she will not have you, brother. If you want her, then you must take her. And if you mean to have her power, there is really no other option.”

  “She’s too strong,” he complained on a whine. “She’s a large girl, Elizabeth, and I am not a young man anymore with the physical power to subdue her.”

  “Then subdue her in other ways! We have all the herbs we need, Reginald!”

  He blinked at her and then smiled. “Of course. How right you are, Elizabeth! Physical strength is only one method of control… I shall begin working on a potion at once.”

  “No. Sleep today. After the events of last night I am quite fatigued,” she said. “We will rest and recover and then tonight, when the moon is up, we will go into the conservatory and begin preparing all that we need.”

  He settled back against the seat and let out a yawn. She was right, of course. Elizabeth always was. They had taken to going to the stone circle on an almost nightly basis. It heightened their power and allowed them to do more while they were outside their bodies.