“I had to see you, my love. My sweet Elizabeth. I couldn’t stand to be apart from you for even one more moment.” Suddenly, Matthew frowned. “But I see you do not feel the same. What have I done to offend you? Do you not love me anymore?”
“Love you?” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Why would I love you? I am engaged to be married to Lord Dabney. I love him.” Yet, even as she said it, she could feel the lie within her words. She was engaged to be married, that was true, but she didn’t love him. Did she?
Of course, you do, Dabney’s voice assured her once more. You are mine, and I am yours. This lowly Lord is nothing to you anymore. You are mine.
Matthew looked as if she had run a sword through his heart. Despair filled his beautiful blue eyes and something inside Elizabeth broke. With a nod, Matthew turned to leave, and suddenly, the hold Lord Dabney had over her vanished.
All she wanted at that moment was to feel Matthew’s hands against her. To feel their hearts beat as one as they had for the last few weeks. How could she have ever believed she loved Dabney? Handsome and charming though he may be, her feelings for him paled in comparison to the love she had for Matthew. He was her true love, her soul mate, and she was hurting him so.
“Matthew, please,” she said, her voice aching with desperation. When he stopped, her heart began to race. “Please don’t go. I know we can never be together, not really. My hand is promised to another, and my father will never relent. But my heart, my heart will always be yours. Just as I will always be yours.”
Hope played over Matthew’s face, but he quickly squashed it down and it was replaced by anger. “Then why have you turned from me so? Why have you ignored my letters and my messages, acted as if I do not exist? If you love me as you claim, why is it your love for Lord Dabney that the entire village is talking about?”
“I don’t know!” she exclaimed, fighting back tears. “I swear to you, my darling, I do not know. I think he has cast a spell over me or something, some kind of sorcery, for when I am with him, I see only him, and you are nothing more than a face in the crowd. But now, when you’re right in front of me, I see you for what you are. I see that you are my soul mate. You alone possess my heart, and I give it to you freely.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, but before she could swipe them from her skin, Matthew was there, kissing the salty tears away.
Relieved, Elizabeth threw her arms around him and kissed him as fiercely as she ever had. Matthew returned her fervor in kind. Lost in each other, he pushed her back against the hedge and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her so close that the only thing between them was a few layers of fabric. His lips moved against hers as his tongue hungrily explored her mouth, probing every last inch of her as if she were the last drink in the desert to quench his thirst.
Elizabeth moaned in pleasure against his mouth, feeling heat and desire explode at her core. It had been too long since she felt his touch. Too long since his hands ravished her body in a way that was gentle and demanding at the same time. Aching to be against him, she shoved as his clothing, feverishly working the buttons of his vest and shirt until, at last, her hands found the firm, muscled chest beneath. She raked her fingers down his chest before sliding them around to his back, loving the way her bosom felt against his bare skin.
Groaning, he reached down the top of her dress and freed her breasts from the confines of her chemise before taking her in his mouth. Her head fell back and she dug her nails into his skin as he suckled her breast, as the heat made her wet with yearning. “More,” she called into the wind, loving that they were being so reckless. Though they were tucked into a niche in the gardens, if anyone were to walk by, they would be discovered. She didn’t care. “More,” she demanded again. “My love, I need more.”
Obliging, Matthew trailed his mouth down her neck to find the other breast while hiking her skirt up above her hips. Ripping away the cotton shift, he found her slick and willing between her legs. He stroked his fingers once, twice, down the length of her and she shuddered against him. Again and again he moved his fingers over the hot wetness of her, hitting that sweet spot that made her lose control until she cried out and went limp against him.
“We aren’t through yet,” he promised, and plunged his fingers into the depths of her, bringing her up once more. Her cries filled the night around them, her chest heaving as he drove her to the peak of pleasure, and still he persisted.
Blind with need, Elizabeth fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, loving the feel of him, freed, against her skin. She stroked him back and forth, feeling him harden in her hand, watching his eyes glaze over. “Now,” she whispered into his mouth, biting his lip, loving his sharp intake of breath. “Take me now.”
Without warning, Matthew found her opening and thrust into her, driving her back against the hedges. The leaves and stems scraped at her arms, but she hardly noticed, lost as she was in the feel and the sound of her lover’s body slamming into hers. It had been too long since she had last felt him, and his desperation matched her own. Lifting her hips, Matthew situated her with her legs wrapped around his waist and once more concentrated on her breasts as he drove into her repeatedly. Elizabeth could hardly breathe as she clutched at him, feeling the orgasm build again. Trembling, she felt her center spasm around the hard length of him, felt him grasp her hips in fiery passion as he shuddered against her and they both cried out in ecstasy.
Elizabeth’s heart was racing as she tried to catch her breath. Matthew held her tightly against him, though he seemed thoroughly unable to move. “Oh, my love,” she whispered, her breath a caress against his cheek, “you are my own heart.” A soft kiss on her breast was his answer. “I do not wish to ruin the moment, darling, but we must move.”
Matthew chuckled against her. “You were not quiet,” he agreed, “for which I am extremely grateful.”
“It is you I should be thankful for,” she exclaimed, completely unabashed, though her cheeks did turn a lovely shade of crimson. “I don’t believe you have brought me three times in a row before.”
“It has been too long.”
“Indeed. I believe I screamed my pleasure without thinking of discretion.”
A devilish grin crossed his face and he crushed his mouth to hers. “Next time, you will scream my name.”
Delighted, Elizabeth could not stop herself from grinning as they untangled from one another and adjusted their clothing. Her shift was completely unsalvageable, but she found she didn’t mind. Shimmying out of it, she stashed it in the hedge. “Our little secret,” she declared wickedly and earned herself another kiss.
“Must you go?” Matthew asked, tucking her curls back into place. “We could slip away to your bedroom and I could have you for the rest of the night.”
Her lips curved sadly. “I wish that were an option. But I have been away too long, and at this point, I shall be missed.” Elizabeth cupped his cheek in her hand. “Come to me tomorrow night. I shall leave the window open.”
“And what if Dabney places you under his spell again?”
“I have no doubt that he will,” she said darkly. “But we broke it this time. We shall break it again. Do not give up on me, my love.” She kissed him softly, wishing she could stop the sorrow from overtaking her. What if he could not break the spell? “Tomorrow night,” she said again. “Promise me.”
Matthew pressed his lips to hers one last time. “I promise.”
The room was still crowded when Elizabeth rejoined the party. The music was lively and the guests were engorging themselves on rich delicacies and fine spirits. Nobody seemed to notice her re-entrance. Good, she thought, searching the room for her betrothed. If anyone had discovered them, there would have been rumors and childish gossip behind gloved hands. Yet, no covert glances were thrown her way.
“There you are, darling,” Lord Dabney greeted her, his eyes roving up and down her body as if searching for something. “Did you have a nice walk? You seem flushed.”
“Just the cold,” she replied swee
tly, plucking a grape from a passing tray. She beamed at him. “I believe I walked nearly the entire length of the gardens.”
Dabney stared shrewdly at her for a moment and Elizabeth had to tell herself not to squirm. Matthew had still not rejoined the party, and for that she was grateful. This was not the first time she had thought Lord Dabney could read her mind, yet to her relief, he smiled and handed her a glass.
“Have a drink, my dear,” he instructed, tipping it up to her mouth. “It will put some warmth back into your skin.”
Obedient, Elizabeth emptied the glass of its contents and gazed lovingly into Dabney’s pleased eyes. All thoughts of Matthew were forgotten.
CHAPTER 7
Two hundred years later, Ellie woke with a start, tears streaming down her cheeks. The dream had felt so real. She found she was almost embarrassed to think about the love made between Matthew and Elizabeth. That is, until she remembered the similarities to her experience with Matt the day before. Maybe she should invite him over for a walk in the garden.
Slightly shocked at her own forwardness, Ellie smiled, wiped her tears away and climbed out of bed. She couldn’t wait to see him again. She dressed in a white blouse and soft gray slacks, tugging her curls back into a loose tail. She knew she had to go about her day, but her skin was still warm and glowing where Dream Matthew had touched Elizabeth. She could still feel it as if he were touching her. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a lover like that. Ellie blushed, her entire body flushing as scarlet as her hair.
There was no need to be embarrassed, she scolded herself. It wasn’t as though she were a prude or anything. She had taken lovers before. And yet, she had never been with a man as talented at pleasure as Matt…or Matthew. Dream or reality, she had never been satisfied so many times in a row.
And boy, was she glad no one could read her mind right now. She would be mortified if her scandalous thoughts were known. Sweet, shy, Ellie Fitzgerald. No one would believe she was capable of such thoughts. She couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her lips. Oh, how wrong they were.
Breakfast was on the table when Ellie walked into the dining room. The staff had prepared a full meal. Eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, gravy, and toast. A heaping plate of pancakes sat in the middle of the spread next to a glass container of syrup.
Ellie’s stomach grumbled and she smiled sheepishly up at Reginald as he entered the room. “Good morning, ma’am,” he greeted her, pulling a chair out and beckoning her forward. “I do hope you’re hungry. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and I do say you will need it to keep a sharp mind about you. I can’t imagine any of this has been easy for you.” She appreciated how warm and kind his voice was. He almost reminded her of her father. If her father was a butler, that is.
Obedient as always, Ellie sat down and placed her napkin in her lap. “This looks wonderful, Reginald, thank you.”
“My pleasure my lady. If you need anything, all you must do is ask.”
Ellie bit her lip. “Reginald?” she called before he had reached the door. “May I ask you something?”
“Certainly.”
Taking a deep breath, Ellie forced herself to be brave enough to ask the question she was dying to know the answer to. “What was my mother like?”
To her pleasure, Reginald’s lips curved in a warm smile. “Ah, sweet Anne. She was a beauty, that one. And a handful. Couldn’t trust her around the tarts, that’s for sure, ma’am. She had a liking for them. I was very sorry to hear that she passed.”
Ellie glanced down at her lap, hoping he couldn’t see the grief in her eyes. “Yes. Cancer. It was awful.”
“You were young then, if I remember.”
“Thirteen.”
“Ah. Tragic. However, if I may?” He pointed to a chair.
Delighted, Ellie nodded. “Oh, yes! Please.”
Reginald bowed before taking a seat. “If you like, I could regale you of your mother’s childhood, entertain you while you eat.”
“That would be wonderful,” she said, beaming. He spent the next twenty minutes speaking of her mother’s childhood, telling her stories of innocent mischief; sweets stolen for the kitchen, linens taken and turned into forts. His fondness for her was evident. For the first time in thirteen years, Ellie felt close to her mother again. She had never dreamed that to be possible.
“Why did she leave?” she asked the butler, hoping it would be to find adventure or to chase true love.
Yet, Reginald’s features became gloomy and sad, as if he had dreaded this very question. “I’m afraid, ma’am, that she had no choice. You see, she became involved with a man. Nobody could say who. And at first, she seemed captivated; utterly in love. There were hearts in her eyes when she talked about him, and a skip in her step whenever she went off to meet him. She was barely over twenty, and everybody, myself included, was thrilled to see her so happy.
“Everybody, that is, except your grandmother.”
Ellie frowned. “Why?”
One line creased Reginald’s brow. “Madam Hargrove believed the young man to be after Anne’s fortune and inheritance. It caused quite the row between your mother and grandmother, I assure you. They didn’t speak for nearly a month. And when Anne became engaged to her mysterious suitor, Madam Hargrove threatened to cut her off.
“As you can imagine, this did not go over so well with Anne. She believed herself to be in love with this man. So much so, that she ran away with him, though she wasn’t gone terribly long.
“The young mistress returned to Hargrove House within a fortnight, thoroughly heartbroken. She spent days in her room, crying; completely inconsolable. Nobody could reach her, not even your grandmother.
“Finally, after nearly a week, the suitor came to call. Anne refused to see him. There was much shouting, if I remember correctly, and he only left when Madam Hargrove threatened to set the dogs on him and call the authorities. As it turned out, Madam had been right. The young man was only after Anne’s fortune. When she no longer had access to the Hargrove inheritance, he became cruel and violent. Anne only managed to escape back home with her life.
“For days, there was no more mention of her suitor. Anne became more herself, little by little, and, as the days passed, the haunted look left her eyes. But the man was not gone for long.
“Gifts began showing up wherever she would go; roses, trinkets, sweets. They would find her at the house, at church, even at University. And each time, Anne would grow more and more frightened, until finally, she convinced her mother she needed to leave, and fled to the Americas. He had driven her from everything she loved; her home, her family. All for the love of her money.
“Your grandmother was devastated. Anne was her only daughter and she hated to see her go, but she knew it was the only way to stop the man’s advances. She spoke to Anne through letters, though, sadly, she never saw her daughter again.”
Ellie, who had sat enraptured as the butler spoke, wiped the tears from her eyes. “That’s terrible.”
“Ay, ma’am,” Reginald agreed gravely, “it is. Yet, Madam Hargrove believed it to be the only way to give her beloved daughter a safe and happy life.”
“And you don’t know who he was?”
The butler shook his head. “I’m afraid not, ma’am. Your grandmother knew, I believe. I only saw him once, myself. Though I did learn later that he was, in fact, a Dabney.”
Ellie sputtered into her tea. “Dabney? As in Lord James Dabney?” Why was that not surprising?
Slightly alarmed at her reaction, Reginald nodded. “Yes, ma’am. An elder cousin to the Lord Dabney that stopped by here yesterday, I believe.”
Ellie felt her heart begin to race. So many connections. Herself, Elizabeth, now her mother. The connection between the Hargroves and the Dabneys couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it? “Reginald,” she said slowly, trying to decide whether to ask or not, “was my mother ever involved with the McKinnon’s?”
To her surprise, Reginald laughed. “The McKinnon’s, why yes,
dear girl. Anne and Meredith McKinnon were the best of friends. Nigh inseparable. In fact, I believe her nephew is the historian at the St. Margaret’s Museum you visited yesterday.” If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of a mischievous twinkle in the old butler’s eye.
Ellie blushed with embarrassment. “Oh. Well, yes, I did meet him for a moment or two. As a matter of fact, he agreed to help me look up some history about the family during the Regency Era. I hope to use it on my dissertation.” Rising, she pushed back from the table. “Speaking of my dissertation, may I use the library for my research? I’m sure the Hargroves have some wonderful information about that period.”
“Of course, ma’am,” he said, standing as well. “Hargrove House belongs to you, as does everything within her walls.”
“Great.” Reaching for his hand, she clasped it between both of her own. “Thank you, Reginald. You make a lovely breakfast companion.” Leaning in, she brushed a kiss over his cheek, pleased to see the old butler’s cheeks turn rosy pink. “Would you be so kind as to show me the library?”
CHAPTER 8
Ellie spent the remainder of the day in the vast library of Hargrove House, surrounded by books filled with every kind of history she could imagine. She discovered that Elizabeth Hargrove’s father was a second-generation brewer who went into business with Dabney Vineyards after the union of Elizabeth and the young Lord Dabney, though something went terribly wrong with the first shipment right after Elizabeth’s death. The venture ended, as did any friendly interaction between the Dabney’s and the Hargroves. From what she could tell, it seemed Baron Hargrove blamed Lord Dabney for his daughter’s untimely death, even refusing to let Dabney raise his daughter as his own. Accusations of witchcraft and sorcery abounded, and the scandal was the talk of Dover for years to come. Not long after, the Dabney wine empire crumbled and the family was left destitute, leaving the disgraced members of the Dabney line no choice but to move elsewhere. Except for Lord Dabney, himself, that is.
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