A Passion So Strong

by Chasity Bowlin

  He’d thought her mad at first when she’d suggested projecting their spirits beyond their physical bodies in order to search Evenwold. But it was the perfect answer. They were not bound by locked doors or walls. They could look anywhere they chose within the house for the grimoire. But it was well hidden, shielded by magic, no doubt. Athena and Minerva were far more cunning than he’d given them credit for. But it was Anne who held him in thrall. Her mind was impervious to his. He had yet to be able to peer inside her head even one time. It was an enviable gift.

  “You should rest, sister,” he advised. “You’ve exhausted yourself by traveling to Evenwold so much of late.”

  “I will rest for a bit at home, but I cannot afford to stay too long from them. They feel my presence there, Reginald, and it frightens them.”

  “Do we want them to be frightened? Or do we want them to trust us and take us into their confidence?” he asked.

  “Both. They have yet to identify the source of their haunting, but if their fear continues to grow, perhaps they will seek answers within Winifred’s book… It might well be the thing that drives them to reveal its location.”

  “Be cautious, Elizabeth… It is taking a toll on you,” he warned.

  “It is taking a toll on all of us, brother,” she answered.

  “He demands too much of you and offers you too little in response.”

  She frowned and looked away. “He has nothing to offer… he is as hollow and empty as a cavern. I only wish I’d realized it sooner. But all is not lost. Not yet. If we can lay hands on that book, we can use it to locate Winifred’s descendants and end the curse once and for all! We’ll be free of him then.”

  He patted her hand in a rare show of affection. “I do hope so, Elizabeth. I do hope so.”

  ***

  After returning to Evenwold, Anne retreated to the kitchen and familiar tasks. Busying herself making preparations for luncheon was a convenient excuse to be free of Lord Strong’s presence, if only for a short time. She needed the reprieve. He’d kissed her, and the power of it had left her stunned. Of course he’d followed it up by insulted her, though she knew it had not been his intent. He’d also insulted Minerva and Athena. They were all that he’d said, lazy and unwilling to work, but it bothered her to have someone else say those things about them.

  Whatever else came of it, they were the only family that she had and she felt disloyal to them when he spoke so meanly of them. Because she’d agreed with his assessment. Acknowledging the truth of it, Anne let out a sigh. She felt guilty because he’d simply reflected her own thoughts about them and it bothered her that, after all they’d done for her over the years, she could view them with such a lack of generosity.

  “There you are, dear!” Athena said, breezing into the kitchen. “How was your walk? Lord Strong is so very handsome! Why, seeing the two of you walking out together reminded me of my own youth and the suitors who used to call on me at Ravenner Abbey!”

  “So you were spying on us?” Anne asked.

  “Well, we are your chaperones,” Athena said pointedly.

  Anne laughed. “The most unlikely of chaperones! Why you’ve encouraged me to behave scandalously more often than not!”

  Athena reached for the pot of water on the stove and poured it over the tea leaves she’d spooned into her cup. She wasn’t making tea because she desired to drink it, but because she intended to use it for divination. Anne recognized that immediately. She’d added only the smallest amount of liquid. After swirling the leaves in the cup for a moment, she passed the cup to Anne.

  “Drink. Then I’ll tell you whether or not you should behave scandalously with your Lord Strong,” Athena offered.

  Anne looked at the cup. She was tempted. Athena’s ability to foresee the future in the simple act of reading tea leaves was one of the few things she could not refute about their purported abilities. She’d seen it too many times, seen how glaringly accurate her predictions were. Did she want to know? Yes, she was frightened of her feelings for Lord Strong, of their intensity, and she was utterly terrified that perhaps his feelings were not as genuine as her own. But in not knowing, there was at least hope.

  “I think not,” she finally said.

  “You don’t wish to know how he feels for you?” Athena asked.

  “I do wish to know… but I’d rather know it from him, I think,” Anne admitted grudgingly. “But I do thank you for offering.”

  Athena sipped the bitter brew herself. “Have it your way, dear. But sometimes being forewarned is being forearmed.”

  “It’s hardly a battle, Athena. I have reason to believe that Lord Strong may have some admiration for me… but we are strangers yet.”

  Athena smiled beatifically. “Oh, Anne dearest! It’s always a battle…. and to the victor goes the spoils.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sebastian was alone in his room. It was late afternoon and he was still reeling from the events of the morning, from the realization that he was falling head over heels for a woman he’d only just met, a woman who was at the center of a strange series of occurrences that could only be paranormal in nature. It challenged everything he thought he knew of the world and himself.

  Seated on the bed, he stared at the closed door, willing the events of the previous day to repeat themselves. Yet, nothing happened. The door did not move, the handle did not rattle, there was no overwhelming sense of being watched. Her certainly did not smell the intense odor of smoke that had permeated his room the night before. There wasn’t even a hint of it.

  In fact, everything at Evenwold seemed so perfectly and completely normal that he found himself wondering why he was even there.The few incidents that had occurred could easily be attributed to a trick of the mind. But then he envisioned Anne fending off her attacker in the barn. When she’d shown him the barn, shown him the place where she’d been injured, it had roused every protective and proprietary instinct he possessed. She was his to protect.

  Even then, he knew that the admission had cost her. It had wounded her already bruised pride to admit fear, to admit that she was in over her head at Evenwold. It was a sentiment that he could appreciate, but under the circumstances, his first priority had to be keeping her safe.

  It wasn’t simply that he owed Blackraven, or that Ambrose had paid him to come there. No. It was so much more than that. Anne Everleigh was driving him to the point of insanity. It could only be called infatuation. He did not know her well enough yet to call it love, though a part of him wished to do so. He resisted it. It would be foolhardy to name his feelings for her that just yet. Having loved in haste before, he knew the risks all to well. Of course, Anne was as different from Portia as night from day, but that did nothing to make him less wary.

  In fact, Portia was a dim memory. When he thought of her, it was very rarely the woman herself who crossed his mind, but the stinging of his pride when she’d thrown him over for his brother. Ambrose had told him that it was not his heart at all that had been impacted by her betrayal. It was both a relief and a regret to recognize now just how right his friend was.

  Cursing himself, his preoccupation with the lady of the house, and Blackraven for sending him there, he rose and paced the room.

  “Have I come at a bad time?”

  Sebastian stopped mid stride and pivoted on his heel. Standing in the doorway, with the door, which he’d locked, wide open, was Minerva. How had he not heard her enter?

  “Do you always enter a man’s chamber without knocking?” he demanded.

  “Only when I am uncertain of my welcome,” Minerva replied. “I am rarely ever uncertain of that, Lord Strong. But then again, I have never been in the position of being in a household where the male occupants were so completely enamored of a female that wasn’t me.”

  It was a bold statement, but he admired her bluntness. “As the only male occupant of Evenwold at this time, I’m uncertain how to respond to that.”

  She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “You
needn’t respond at all, Lord Strong. It was not a question as much as an observation… In fact, I am here to assist you in your pursuit of our dear Anne. You do wish to pursue her, do you not?”

  Whether he did or did not, he had no intention of discussing it with Minerva. He still hadn’t determined just what sort of games she and her sister were playing and whether or not they truly had Anne’s best interests at heart. “That is not my purpose in coming to Evenwold,” he replied.

  “It was not your purpose in coming to Evenwold. But is it your purpose in remaining here?” she demanded.

  “Madame, I have no intentions toward Miss Everleigh,” he stated, but the lie fell flat from his lips.

  “How very disappointing! I had high hopes for you.”

  “What are you doing here, Lady Minerva?” he asked, hoping to end the strange conversation before it took another turn.

  Minerva pulled a deck of cards from the pocket of her day dress. They were not ordinary playing cards, but something else altogether. He’d seen them used once at a fair by a gypsy woman. She held in her hand a Tarot deck.

  “I thought, Lord Strong, that I would tell you all that your future holds,” she offered.

  “A man makes his own future, Lady Minerva. I’ve no need of parlor tricks for that,” he replied evenly. “It’s highly improper for you to be in here.”

  “Not so very improper,” she said, stepping deeper into the room until she could perch on the edge of his bed. “I am well beyond the age of consent, as are you… And since you’ve no designs on Anne, there’s naught to stop us from enjoying a bit of fun. Is there, Lord Strong?”

  The woman was a menace. “Lady Minerva, that is quite enough. If you believe that I have feelings for Lady Anne, or worse if you believe that Lady Anne might have some regard for me—your actions are beyond reprehensible!”

  Minerva rolled her eyes. “Good heavens! You really are perfect for her! I’ve never met two such painfully appropriate people in my life!”

  “And I’ve never encountered a less appropriate woman in mine!”

  “More’s the pity,” Minerva said. “Perhaps if you had spent more time with less appropriate women you wouldn’t be such a bore and could lure Anne into a bit of mischief! She needs mischief in her life, Lord Strong. She’s been too well behaved for far too long already!”

  “Lady Minerva,” he said, and took a deep breath, “Get out.”

  She arched her eyebrows at him. “How rude, Lord Strong! You are a guest in this house, after all!”

  He was at the end of his patience with her. The woman was maddening. “I am not a guest. I am here to offer my assistance as an employee to your nephew… and that assistance is to be rendered to Miss Anne Everleigh. At no point in time did the Marquess of Blackraven and I agree that I should entertain you in my chambers.”

  “She is infatuated with you,” Minerva said, ignoring his previous statement. “Anne, to my knowledge, has never encountered a man who befuddled her so.”

  He didn’t want to ask. But the question rose to his lips regardless. “Why do you say that?”

  She smiled coyly. “My dear man, a woman always knows. I have watched Anne grow from a small girl into the fine woman you see today. I know her better than she knows herself, I dare say. It is clear to me, in the way she looks at you, in the way she blushes under your regard, in the very fact that for the first time in her life, she appears to be uncertain… she is enamored of you, Lord Strong. And you would appear to be quite enamored of her, as well, Lord Strong. Or am I mistaken?”

  He turned away from her, moving to the window to stare out at the garden below. Athena was seated on a small bench there and Anne was working not far away, cutting the last of the herbs from the garden. “You are not mistaken,” he admitted, though the words were grudging. “But that is not my focus here. I cannot allow my infatuation for Miss Everleigh to blind me to my true purpose.”

  “And what purpose is that, Lord Strong? To protect her? What better way to do so than to remain at her side… and what better reason to remain at her side than out of love and devotion?” Minerva’s voice was pitched low, seductive, tantalizing. She was attempting to seduce him on Anne’s behalf and it was working.

  “You have made your point, madame. There is no need to continue beating this particular horse.” Sebastian turned back to her, but as he did, he saw Athena pass his open door, heading not toward her room but away from it. She had not been outside after all.

  Immediately, he glanced back at the window. Anne was alone in the garden. There was no one sitting on the bench where he’d thought Athena was only a moment earlier, but it would not have been possible for her to enter the house and climb the stairs to the second floor in such a short span.

  “What is happening in this house, Minerva? Are there spirits here?” he demanded.

  Her response was typically enigmatic. “There are spirits everywhere, Lord Strong.”

  “Do not,” he warned. “Do not feed me this spiritist nonsense. I will have the truth from you. There are forces in this house, things I cannot see and cannot name, but they are just as real as you or I. I’ve heard them, I’ve felt their presence, I’ve seen the doors rattle beneath invisible hands… Who are they? What do they want? What threat do they pose?”

  Minerva rose and walked toward the window. Standing shoulder to shoulder with him she looked out at Anne. “There are spirits roaming this house, but we are not being haunted by the dead, Lord Strong. We are being haunted by the living. They want what we possess. Magical items that have great power, and the power that is innately a part of us… all of us. Including Anne.”

  “And who are these living beings that haunt you?”

  “Those who covet our power… They are too numerous to name. But we have taken steps to protect ourselves and Anne. It would be better if she would participate in the rituals, Lord Strong. Perhaps you could persuade her to do so?”

  Sebastian had no idea what sort of rituals they meant or what they might entail, but if it meant keeping Anne safe, he would do what was necessary. “I will do what ever is required to keep her safe… and I will find out who is violating the sanctity of this home.”

  “I know that you will, Lord Strong. That is why I sent for you.”

  “You sent for me?”

  She smiled again. “In a manner of speaking… I asked the Goddess to send a champion for Anne, a man to guard her, to cherish her. And then you arrived… What else could it be?”

  He shook his head. “You have chosen a poor hero for her. I am here because the Marquess has paid me to be, Lady Minerva, and for naught else.”

  “Money may have brought you to us, Lord Strong, but it is love that will keep you here. And there is nothing more heroic than that.”

  Sebastian’s gaze settled on Anne again. He watched her intently, oblivious to Minerva’s quiet exit and to Athena’s satisfied smile when her sister gave her a wink. The two women, if they had spoken, would have said that all was as it should be.

  ***

  Anne gave every pretense of ignoring the sensation of being watched. She was acutely aware of it, however. It wasn’t simply the phantom presence that seemed to be her constant companion in recent days. It was Lord Strong, as well. She’d caught a glimpse of him standing at the window of his chamber.

  Her cheeks heated as she wondered what he must think of her, digging in the dirt like a servant. Her gown had never been fashionable, but after weeks of farm work, it was not just ugly, but horribly stained and worn. It had never been a concern for her before, what she wore. As a woman with a sturdy figure, per the Squire and others as well, fashion was simply not part of her daily life.

  She regretted that now. She longed to don a pretty frock, to dress her hair in a flattering style. The need to have him see her as something other than a farm hand was nothing but vanity. It was not a character flaw she’d thought herself capable of. She was discovering new and disturbing things about herself every day it would seem.


  Getting up from her knees, she dusted off her apron and dress. Staring out at the still and unmoving trees, she felt a soft breeze ruffle her hair. The current of air moved over her, leaving a chill in its wake.

  “Stop it!” she hissed.

  There was no response. Of course, she hadn’t expected there to be. Whether it was a spirit, her own too vivid imagination, or some dark force she could not name, she was being tormented. It, whatever it was, wanted her to know it was there, wanted her to know it was present and wanted to fan the fear and uncertainty that grew inside her daily.

  As she turned toward the house, she caught a glimpse of movement, a flash between the trees just to the left of the house. Angry, tried of living in fear—her temper rose. It was time to confront them. She could not help but believe that there was a person behind all the turmoil and difficulty. She had to admit that there was something mystical afoot, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a living, breathing villain pulling the strings.

  Part of her wanted desperately to rush toward those trees, to confront whoever was there. Another part of her recognized that it was simply another trick, that by the time she reached the clearing, any hint of a person there would be gone. It would take her further from the house, leaving her isolated and alone, vulnerable. The desire for confrontation could not be permitted to overrule her own common sense, she determined.

  With one last hard look, Anne turned back toward the house again and strode purposefully toward the door. She would not be cowed, but she would not be manipulated either.

  Anne entered through the kitchen door and placed her basket on the table. Turning, she let out a small shriek as she smacked into the firm wall of Lord Strong’s chest. His hands closed about her upper arms to steady her. Her breath caught in her throat at his nearness, at the sensation of his hands on her. Even such an innocent touch could incite lustful thoughts within her. Again, suspicion reared its ugly head. Had Minerva and Athena cast a spell on her? Was she mad to even consider the possibility?