Blue Moon Enchantment (Once In A Blue Moon Series)

by Jeanne Van Arsdall

  Hot. The dark-haired, handsome image of a man. His nearness kindled feelings of fire and like a narcotic gave her an euphoric feeling. Her heart beat with the pulse of the waves hitting the beach. His white shirt billowed open to the center of his chest. His gaze riveted on her face, then moved over her body slowly. Her skin tingled. The air around her electrified; her heart jolted and her pulse pounded. She tried to throttle the dizzying current racing through her as he stepped forward and cupped her face with his large hand. In one fluid motion she was in his arms, her curves molding to the contours of his lean body. He held her so tenderly her body ached for more, but...no, don’t leave! What are you doing? Without a word, he turned away and walked across the beach.

  She opened her eyes. Moonlight sifted through the windows, glistening on the golden ceiling stars and lighting the unfamiliar room. Disoriented, her gaze darted about until the shapes became familiar. Hotel Castle. She fell back on the pillow, wrapped in a serene quiet, and tried to remember the dream. He’d been so close, she’d felt the heat from his body. She touched a finger to her lips and they felt warm and moist from his kisses. Drugged with desire, she rose and crossed the room to the French doors. Footprints in the white sand drew her outside. Should she follow? Had he been real after all? The almost-full moon glinted on something in the sand. She bent and reached for the object. Her fingers curled around a smooth, cool ring. A man’s ring. She turned it toward the moon’s light and traced the unusual design with a finger. A ruby encircled with diamonds, with some sort of crest on each side. Funny, but it looked familiar somehow.

  "If I find the owner of this ring, I’ll find my prince.” Claire giggled and looked up at the clear evening sky and its Blue Moon.

  What had Aunt Lizy told her before she’d left? Oh yes, some nonsense about a Blue Moon appearing this month. “The second full moon in a month is magical, child. It only happens once every two years, so you must be certain to make a wish on it.”

  "What the hell? Maybe Aunt Lizy is right. So, moon, what am I supposed to say? If you were a star, I could say star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.” Claire stopped. “Of, for Pete’s sake, I can’t believe I’m doing this—talking to a moon! Oh well, before they drag me away and commit me, let’s get this over with. Come on, moon, please let me find the owner of this ring and let him be my prince.”

  She kicked her foot in the sand. "Yeah, you dope, that’ll happen as sure as the Blue Moon really is magical.”

  She tucked the ring into a pocket and went inside. She’d give it to Fred tomorrow. Surely a guest had lost it, but it was too late tonight to do anything. Funny, why hadn’t someone wakened her? Fred had told her he’d take her on a tour of the hotel. Guess he changed his mind.

  Putting on a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, she placed the ring in the nightstand drawer before crawling back into bed. The digital clock clicked midnight and Claire yawned. Tomorrow. She’d turn the ring in tomorrow.

  As she drifted to sleep, the dream began anew.

  Her whole being sizzled with the waiting. When she saw him, her only emotion was relief. Slowly and seductively he walked closer, his steady gaze boring into her. Her body ached to be crushed within his embrace. Dreaming? No, real. It had to be. He came closer, his feet floating along the sand as if on a cloud.

  He projected an energy and power that beckoned her to him and a quiver surged through her veins. He gathered her into his arms. His hands explored the hollow of her back; her trembling arms clung to him. His kisses teased her. His lips brushed against her as he spoke, his breath hot along her bare shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and when he claimed her lips with his, she returned his kiss. She twisted her fingers in his dark wavy hair and pulled him closer. Love for him so filled her, she thought she’d explode into a million tiny stars.

  They met kiss for kiss, matching the urgency to be melded, a rending thirst to be joined, to be one.

  "Ms. Jacobs?”

  She jerked awake. Tangled in the thick comforter, she kicked her legs free and bolted upright. Claire, ole girl, you’re going mad. Drawing up her knees, she scooted up in bed.

  She heard a loud knock on her door and someone again called her name.

  "Ms. Jacobs? You okay?”

  Fred. "Yes, just a second.” She jumped out of bed, threw on a robe and tied the belt around her waist. A quick glance at the clock told her she’d overslept. Nine o’clock. What a way to start a new job. She flung the door open.

  "I’m sorry, Mr. Miller. I don’t normally oversleep.” She hesitated. "I really am sorry. I can be dressed in a jiffy.”

  He cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling. "Quit apologizing, Ms. Jacobs. When you didn’t come to dinner last night, I assumed you were beat and had gone to bed. And the name’s Fred.”

  Claire tugged the robe tighter over her tingling breasts as heat from the remembered dream rushed to her cheeks.

  "Actually, I took a walk on the beach...and found an expensive ring. Let me get it for you.” She rushed across the room and opened the drawer to the nightstand. “Oh!” Her hand flew to her chest. “I don’t understand. It’s gone, but I know I put it in the drawer.” Bending, she retrieved her slacks from the floor and checked the pockets. Nothing.

  Fred cleared his throat again. "If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll meet you in the dining room in thirty minutes, if that’s enough time for you to get dressed.”

  Claire hurried back to the door. "Of course. That’s more than enough time. I’m sorry, I’m not usually this unprofessional.”

  "We’re pretty casual around here. See you in thirty minutes.” He started down the hall and Claire closed the door. She ran back to the empty drawer.

  "I didn’t imagine that ring—I know I didn’t.” She closed the drawer and grabbed her suitcase. She’d better hurry if she meant to be dressed and in the dining room on time.

  Claire arrived with time to spare. After breakfast she told Fred, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to acquaint myself with the whole establishment. Would you take me on the tour we talked about last night?”

  At his nod, they set off down the timeworn, creaky corridors.

  “Only a few rooms are currently occupied,” he informed her. “I hope that will change after the restoration.”

  To Claire the cool air smelled of history. Beautiful chandeliers lit the rooms and hallways. She took notes in each room, commenting on pieces of furniture and questioning whether they would go or stay. The kitchen was large, with a vaulted ceiling supported by two massive pillars, and smelled of boiled herbs. “Oooooo,” she squealed, “look at that free-standing stove! I’ve never seen one in the center of the room like that. No matter what renovations we make, we have to keep that! It’s the life of the kitchen.”

  Suitably impressed with her ideas, Fred left her on her own in what he called the 'master’ bedroom. The room Lord Archer was to bring his new bride to, and now the current owner’s bedroom whenever he took it upon himself to be in residence.

  In contrast to the other rooms, this one was sumptuously well preserved. Claire breathed deeply, smelling lemon oil and leather, with a lingering scent of fine pipe tobacco. Decorated in the Neo-Gothic style, the polished walls were paneled in dark wood, intricately carved. A massive stone fireplace covered nearly one whole wall. Claire imagined a magnificent fire on the hearth and the room warmed. The ceiling, unlike the one in her room, was all glass, letting in bright sunlight. She closed her eyes and envisioned stars in a midnight sky shining through the glass. The bigger-than-king-size bed drew her attention. It was covered with richly embroidered draperies and spreads and crowned by an elaborate woodcarving. A crest? She walked closer to run a hand across the wood and drew her hand back like she’d been burned. The crest! It was the same design as on the ring she’d found.

  She shivered. An odd feeling of being watched by a strange presence crept up her spine. She pulled back the window curtains and stared at the
beach below. Her mind wandered back to the dream and the mystery man on the beach. Had chance brought her here? Or had destiny? Would she find her prince? Could crazy Aunt Lizy be right and she’d find her true love in her twenty-eighth year on the night of the Blue Moon? "Yeah, like I believe all that crap, just because I was born under a magical blue moon.”

  She gathered up her notebook and headed back to her own room to work on designs. "Can’t let superstitious nonsense cloud my work if I want to keep this job.”

  Claire worked on her designs all afternoon and on into early evening, stopping only long enough to grab a sandwich. The sun set and she lit candles all around the room. The flickering lights and musky scent helped put her in mind of olden times and life in a castle. Her pencil fairly flew across the pages, designing, remembering. I’ve never been here before–not in this life. She closed her sketchbook and stretched out across the bed.

  Hours ticked by. She dozed fitfully, suspended in a dual state–asleep and awake simultaneously. Restless snatches of sleep in which her mind drifted from stars and a big round blue moon to prince charming and a ruby ring.

  Only a few more weeks and she’d be a married woman. She accepted Lord Archer’s hand and stepped down from the carriage, feeling pleased with herself. The eldest daughter of a sea captain, she’d been lucky to win the heart of Lord Robert Archer, Fifth Earl of Sundrey. Perhaps her aunt had been correct, she lived a charmed life since being born under the light of a blue moon.

  A salty wind slashed her face and she grabbed her bonnet with one hand. Her rain-soaked cloak snapped behind her as Lord Archer held her close and led her through the swirling white sand to the front door of the castle. She paused at the entrance and squinted out toward the white-capped ocean waves. In the misty light between day and night, she closed her eyes and the water seemed to call to her.

  The warmth and love of Lord Archer’s arms pulled her back. She opened her eyes, but the sound of the wind played a haunting melody in her ears. "We’ll be together always?”

  He lifted her chin with a long finger. She felt the misty rain on her face, but he held her close, his body radiating warmth and strength. "Through all eternity, my love.”

  ***

  Claire tried the doorknob of the tower room. She paused, sensed a force on the other side that would disrupt her day as her dreams had her night. The knob wouldn’t turn. Locked? Fred hadn’t mentioned any rooms being locked except the few occupied ones and this wasn’t one of them.

  She hurried to the front desk, then waited impatiently while Fred registered a young couple.

  "I need the key to the west tower, Fred.”

  She saw something flicker far back in his dark eyes. "There’s no key. I’ve been here more years than I can count and no one’s ever been in that tower.”

  "That’s crazy. It looks structurally sound. Why is it locked?”

  "Legend says it’s where Lord Archer died. He locked himself in the tower after his Lady Claire–say, she had the same name as you.” He shrugged. "Anyway, after she disappeared, Lord Archer locked himself in the tower and drank himself to death.”

  "So why has it been kept locked? Surely the new owners would have wanted it opened.”

  "Not for me to say.” He busied himself with papers on the desk.

  "Send for a locksmith. If I’m to restore the whole building, I want access to all of it.”

  Fred raised his eyes to hers. She thought he might object, but at the last minute he said, "Well, I do have orders to let you do as you want. Guess it’d be okay as long as you take responsibility.”

  "Of course I will. But I don’t see the problem.” She shifted her notebook to the other hand. "See if the locksmith can come out immediately. I’ll be in the east wing. Call me when he arrives.”

  Claire poked around the east wing for nearly an hour before the locksmith arrived, then eagerly waited while he opened the lock on the west tower door. With a blast of cold air, the heavy oak door burst back on its hinges and slammed against the wall. An unearthly wind howled down the stairway. Claire shrank away from the sound, hesitated an instant, then lifted her chin and steeled herself to climb the spiral staircase. Dust motes danced on the sunlight spilling down from windows high above.

  Isolation, vast and longing, reached out and touched her. In all her life she’d never felt such sadness. She shook off the feeling that something supernatural had reached out to her and studied the interior of the tower rooms, already planning improvements. Surely there was nothing abnormal about the area. She was tired, her strange dreams having kept her from a good night’s sleep. Pressure to succeed and fatigue were just playing tricks on her nerves. That was it.

  She fished her pencil from a pocket and sketched designs on the pad of paper she carried. The windows let in bright light, but she’d have iron sconces installed along the inside walls for evening hours. Black cast iron ones, of course, keeping with the castle’s design.

  She explored the tower rooms, making notes and sketching plans. Eager to find anything she could use in her designs, she crouched on the floor and dug through boxes and trunks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the sun glint on something in the corner, and she rose to investigate. Peeking out from behind a yellowed sheet she saw the edge of a gilded picture frame. Quickly she flung the cover off, coughing as years of collected dust filled her lungs.

  She stared up at a life-size portrait of a sinfully handsome man with a noble, dark face. Black, wavy hair, combed in a style to tempt a woman’s fingers. A small, close-cropped mustache above thick, well-shaped lips. Dark, rich brown eyes framed in lashes longer than any woman’s, and thick brows that arched in a devilish curve. A short, jagged scar across his left cheek...

  The face of the man in her dreams! How could it be? She’d never been here. Never even heard of Hotel Castle until two weeks ago. But the man in the portrait was definitely the man in her dreams. He’d visited every night since her arrival—she’d never mistake his noble face.

  She read the gold plate at the bottom of the frame with a sigh. "Robert Archer, Fifth Earl of Sundrey.”

  She became vaguely aware of a presence behind her and slowly turned. A light blue, misty glow gathered between her and the door. It expanded and glimmered with little specks of light. A shape began to form, fuzzy at first, then evolved into the figure of a man, from his dark good looks to well-muscled, long legs. He looked uncannily like the man in the portrait.

  The light in the room suddenly seemed too bright. “Lord Archer…” Claire squinted and tried to see the man more clearly.

  “It’s me, my dear. God be praised, you’ve come home at last,” she heard the man say before she fell into a lifeless faint.

  Moments later she opened her eyes and sat up. She frowned and looked around the room. The apparition was still there, although he was more solid. “You!”

  “I prayed you’d return.” His voice choked with emotion. He reached toward her, but drew back when she jumped. “I’ve been so lonely without you, my love. Why did you leave me?”

  Still a bit hazy, she blurted, "You can’t be Lord Archer. You’d be–what, a hundred and fifty years old at least?”

  "You jest,” he blustered. “I’m not a day over thirty-five, the same age I was when you most unfortunately disappeared from my life.”

  She stared at him. "You’re a ghost!”

  "No. Not a ghost. Don’t be afraid, my dearest. A shaman came to me after your disappearance. He promised, if I drank his potion, I would sleep, then find you by the light of the Blue Moon.” He reached out to her again, but she shied away. "I’d begun to doubt him, but it’s true. You’ve come back to me, my love.”

  Claire focused on the man before her. What kind of hokey joke was this? Something Fred concocted to scare her away? Who else could be behind it? But why would he want her to go? Suddenly she was sure it was all her imagination. Fred had mentioned Lord Archer’s betrothed was named Claire, add that to the erotic dreams she’d been having, and of course Aunt
Lizy’s notion of true love under a magical blue moon. No wonder she was having visions. He had to be just a figment of her imagination. Anything else was ridiculous.

  "I should not have rushed your love. I thought you felt for me what I did for you.” He said it with such passion, she believed him for a second.

  "Just wait a darn minute. You’re pulling my leg, right?”

  "Pulling your leg? I’m afraid I do not understand. I’m not touching you...”

  "Joking. Kidding.” She measured out her words slowly. "You know, making all this up.”

  "Please, Claire.” She felt a feather-light touch as his hand stroked her cheek. "I assure you it’s true.”

  Her heart lurched in her chest when she saw the ruby and diamond ring on his finger. The same one as in the portrait—the same one she’d found on the beach. She almost believed he was real. Good God, she was beginning to believe in ghosts or magical moons or whatever it was he claimed! She actually felt his heartache. Felt the love radiating from him. For her?

  "But why have you stayed here all this time? Why not go to the light and find your Claire?”

  "My soul is bound to this tower, but my spirit can roam the grounds. Each rise of the Blue Moon, I awaken and wait. I’ve tarried, dreamed, prayed you would find your way back to me. Yet each chance passed and you did not come. Until now.” His form became yet more solid. "My darling, Claire, I have until the rise of the second full moon this month-the blue moon–to regain your love. And when I do, I will be once more alive and never let you from my side again.”