CHAPTER 5
Ellie stepped out of Seton & Associates into a light misting rain. The legalities of her grandmother’s will were fairly straightforward (or so she’d been told). If she were being perfectly honest, Ellie was still in a bit of shock. Not only had she inherited Hargrove House, but her family’s fortune as well. She was rich. Her entire life just changed.
The revelation was almost enough to pull her thoughts from the dream she’d had the night before. That was the second time she had found her subconscious in the early 1800s. What had her name been? Elizabeth, but her surname had still been Hargrove. And dream Elizabeth was most definitely different from the real Ellie.
Never in her life could she imagine she would carry on a steamy affair with a man in the hallway outside a party. Even if that man was as ridiculously handsome as Matthew had been. Though, she had to admit that the affair was, well, hot. She usually found it hard to even talk to men, much less invite one to her bed in the middle of the night. But oh, if she had, if she could ever be that brave and brazen…what must that be like?
If only she could live in such times as the Regency Era, she thought, thinking back over her research. The architecture, the fashion, the parties, the courtships. The romance. It was like living in a dream. Literally, since she was, in fact, dreaming just that.
The downfall, of course, was being auctioned off like cattle to a man she didn’t love. But Elizabeth had loved him, hadn’t she? Well, maybe. Ellie frowned. The drink her fiancé had given her had muddled her senses. It had almost been like magic. But love potions and the like weren’t real. Were they?
Ellie’s head was beginning to hurt. It was all just too strange.
Glancing down at the brochure she had picked up that morning, she spotted an ad for St. Margaret’s Museum. It looked like it was connected to the Pines Garden as well, which suited Ellie perfectly. Maybe there was someone there who could tell her a little more about her family. And if Elizabeth Hargrove actually existed.
The Pines Garden wasn’t crowded, though the Tea Room seemed to be a local favorite. Conversation and laughter filled the air as Ellie walked through the small restaurant toward the door labeled “Museum.” Inside was a plethora of history and memorabilia about the locals and what it was like to live in the area during World War II. The historian in Ellie was pretty much in heaven, though the practical side of her still wanted answers.
She walked slowly through the rooms, gazing at the displays and smiling politely at the other patrons. There didn’t seem to be anyone of authority around, but maybe someone from the Tea Room would know who ran it. Just as she was about to turn around to go ask, a man came through a side door, his arms loaded down with a pile of books and papers. Ellie couldn’t see his face, but that didn’t stop her from mustering up the courage to go speak to him. When it came to history, she was shameless.
“Excuse me,” she said as she approached him. She thought she’d said it quietly, but the man jumped nonetheless. Ellie pressed a hand to her mouth to stop the laugh. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine,” he said from behind his burden. “What can I do for you?” He continued walking until he reached a small cabinet on the other side of the room. Ellie followed close at his heels.
“Well, actually, I was hoping I could bother you for a bit of a favor.” The man dug into his pocket for a small brass key and unlocked the cabinet, haphazardly situating the papers inside. “You see,” she continued, “I just inherited my grandmother’s estate, and I was hoping to get a little bit of history on my family. I’ve never actually met them, but it seems silly to be the heir to the Hargrove fortune and not know anything about them.”
Finished, the man stood up slowly and turned to look at her, a mix of astonishment and curiosity on his face. Ellie gasped. It couldn’t be…and yet, it was. The man in front of her looked exactly like Elizabeth Hargrove’s Matthew from her dream. The same sandy brown hair, the same kind, piercing blue eyes. He looked significantly more disheveled and modern than the other man, but it was most definitely him. A strange pull started from low in Ellie’s stomach and worked its way up to her chest. There was a familiarity, a connection, there that she couldn’t describe.
The man gaped at her. “You’re Victoria Hargrove’s granddaughter?”
Surprised, Ellie’s eyes widened. “Yes. You knew my grandmother?”
“No, not really. I met her once at a function in Dover, but I didn’t know her personally. The family’s history is interesting, though. They’re one of the most wealthy and influential families in Kent.”
“Oh.”
A slow, crooked smile crept across his face and he stuck out his hand. “I think I can help you.” Her face lit up, and he laughed. It was a sweet, rich laugh, and Ellie found she wanted to hear it again. “My name is Matt. Matt McKinnon.”
Her breath caught. There had to be some mistake. Either that, or she was losing her mind. It was only a coincidence that this man looked exactly like the Matthew McKinnon from her dream and had the same name. Wasn’t it? “I…um.” Get a grip! She shook his hand. “Ellie Fitzgerald.”
Matt’s gaze turned quizzical. “Ellie. Short for Elizabeth?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” he replied with a shrug. “There was another Elizabeth in your family. Did you know that?” She nodded. “I thought it might be a family name. Though the first Elizabeth’s story is a bit depressing.”
Alarmed, Ellie followed Matt as he moved back through the displays towards the side door. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know? Well, legend has it that Elizabeth Hargrove was the belle of the town. Beautiful, smart, full of life. A bit of a handful, actually, if you believe the tales. She fell in love with a poor nobleman from the country.” Opening the door, he beckoned her inside. Ellie followed.
The room was small and dusty, and the walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves filled with all kinds of books, clipping and incredibly old newspapers and magazines. In the center of the room was a carved wooden desk with an oil lamp, laden down with even more papers and things. Pens and pencils sat in a coffee mug next to a shiny silver lap top. A paper cup had been knocked to the floor. Matt hastily picked it up and tossed it in the trash.
“Sorry, it’s a bit cramped.” Pulling an old chair from a corner, he offered it to her. “So anyway, rumors of Elizabeth and her nobleman’s love became the talk of the town, but not before Elizabeth’s father had promised her to another.”
Ellie frowned. “I apologize, I don’t mean to be rude, but that was typical of the time, wasn’t it? Women were only as worthy as the match they made and fathers would marry them off to the most advantageous suitor. It’s sad, yes, but hardly merits remembrance when it happened like that all over the country.”
Amused, Matt leaned back in his captain’s chair and grinned at her. He had a bit of a devil-may-care attitude that Ellie found intriguing. “You know your history, I’m impressed.”
Ellie blushed a little at the compliment, her cheeks turning a radiant shade of crimson. “I’m writing my dissertation on Regency England.”
“I see. Well, you would be correct, but a loveless marriage is not what makes the story of Elizabeth Hargrove so sad. You see, shortly after Elizabeth and her love decided to run away together, she suddenly decided she didn’t want him anymore and became utterly devoted to her betrothed. Most of society at the time believed she was just doing her duty, but Matthew - a relative of mine, actually - didn’t believe that, but there was nothing he could do. He was forced to stand aside while she married the Lord Dabney.”
“Wait a second,” Ellie interrupted, frowning a bit. “Would that be the same Dabney family that is still here?”
Matt nodded. “The very same. The Dabneys have been in Dover for generations, though their fortune is significantly more depleted now days.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know the
particulars, but there was something that happened a while back, gambling or something, that drained their accounts. Word around town is that they’re still struggling just to remain afloat, and that now, instead of using the Lordship as a supplement to the family income, the Dabneys are relying on it. They’re always looking to marry into money, and I’m all but certain the Dabneys have tried to marry a Hargrove woman in every generation.”
Ellie’s frown deepened. Is that why James had shown up the day before? He was after her money? It seemed a shame, since he had been so charming, though she had felt something was slightly off about the man.
Matt cocked his head. “Have you met the Dabneys?” he asked.
“One. Lord James Dabney. He came over last night after I arrived. Said he was a friend of my grandmother’s.”
“Hmm.” He tapped a finger thoughtfully to his chin. “And? Did you believe him?”
Perplexed, she merely shrugged. “There didn’t really seem to be a reason not to. He was kind, polite, charming. Exactly the way I assumed an English gentleman would be. Maybe too exact, I guess.”
Matt tapped his finger again. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
Despite herself, Ellie laughed. “Okay, Lewis Carroll. So, what happened to Matthew and Elizabeth?”
“Ah, always the romantic, I see. Very well. Matthew never believed Elizabeth had stopped loving him. In fact, he was convinced that Dabney was controlling her somehow, holding her captive to keep her as a possession, but he could never prove it. It wasn’t until Elizabeth gave birth to a little girl that Matthew finally confronted Dabney, saying the child was actually his and that Dabney’s sorcery was about to come to an end. The two dueled, and Matthew was slain on the White Cliffs of Dover.
“Elizabeth was beside herself at Matthew’s death, and nothing, not even her child, could console her. She stopped talking, stopped eating, and pulled away from everybody until finally, she couldn’t take it any longer and she threw herself off the cliffs to her death, right before Dabney’s eyes.”
One lone tear slid slowly down Ellie’s cheek. It was all so sad.
Matt smiled kindly. “Don’t feel too bad for Dabney. He did slay my great-great-great whatever, uncle after all, and drive your ancestor to commit suicide.”
“It’s still tragic,” Ellie insisted wiping her cheeks, though she did feel a little silly for crying.
Chuckling, Matt crossed his arms over his chest. “True, but if the stories are to be believed, it was magic that caused Elizabeth’s devotion to her husband. When she took her own life, that magic backfired and a curse was placed over Lord Dabney, forbidding his spirit to rest until he could make Elizabeth fall in love with him for real. So, for generations, he has tried to seduce the Hargrove women, to possess the hearts and win their fortune, allowing his soul to finally settle down.”
“What happens to the women?”
“Nothing, really,” he replied with a shrug. “Although, there has been a substantial amount of tragedy affecting your family over the years. Here.” Pulling his laptop toward him, Matt began clicking buttons and pounding on the keys until he found what he was looking for. “That’s strange. Come here.” Obedient, Ellie went around the desk to stand behind him, leaning low over his shoulder to see the computer. “That’s Elizabeth Hargrove. Funny.” He glanced up at her then back to the screen. “She looks just like you.”
Ellie gasped. Her own face stared back at her. It was the Elizabeth Hargrove from her dreams right there in a pencil sketch. Reaching out, she tentatively brushed a finger over the other woman’s face. “How bizarre.”
“That’s one word for it.” Matt clicked into another window and pulled up the Hargroves in the search engine. “I’ll keep looking; go through the archives. You want to write your number down? I can give you a call with whatever I find.”
Taking the pen he offered, Ellie scribbled down the address and phone number of Hargrove House, then handed it back to him. Their hands touched and the sensation was electric. Waves of emotion washed over her, stealing her breath and making her pulse race. She had never felt like this in her entire life. It was like her entire being had been waiting for this exact moment, for them to touch, skin on skin. It was like welcoming back a forgotten lover, or reuniting with a lost friend. From the look of shock on his face, she would bet Matt was feeling much the same thing.
Why did he have this much of an effect on her? They had just met, for crying out loud. And yet, if she were being honest, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to hold him tight or rip his clothes off. Somehow, she didn’t think either one was the smartest option, and she would probably be better off running away now and never looking back.
If only that option weren’t so painfully sad.
“Matt,” Ellie breathed, her heart pounding in her chest; she could barely even get the word out. Being so close to him was having a strange effect on her, which she could only classify as desire. She wanted to touch him, but had no idea where the urge was calming from. Concentrating, she focused on slowing her breathing. Matt turned to her, and their faces were mere inches apart. The turmoil in his blue eyes was clear in the gold lamp light as he stared at her, and she wondered if he was feeling the same emotions that she was. It was like he was familiar and home all at once, and not touching him was nearly unbearable. Ellie swallowed hard, trying to think. “Matt, do you believe in fate?”
She watched his chest rise and fall, once, twice. And then suddenly, he was on his feet, his mouth on hers. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her against him and she couldn’t help but be swept along. This was what she had been waiting for. This connection, this emotion, this feeling of finding her other half. Her soul mate. It was like her soul had finally found its home.
Ellie clasped her hands around his neck, delighting in the urgency as his hands gripped her bottom and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him as he stumbled forward and pressed her back against the shelves.
His kiss was strong and deep, his tongue exploring every bit of her mouth. She sighed against his lips, pulling him to her. Something was taking over her. Something savage that craved this man in her arms. She felt more like Elizabeth in the arms of her lover than she felt Ellie in the arms of a stranger, but she found that with Matt, she didn’t want to fight it. She knew him in a way she had never known anybody. Their very souls were connected and this just felt…right.
Chest heaving, Matt started to pull back, removing his mouth far enough from hers to let her breathe, but not stepping away. “I’m sorry, Ellie,” he breathed, still clutching her hips, his fingers digging into the top of her jeans. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“I don’t care.” Desperate now, she pulled him to her again, letting her head fall back in ecstasy. Matt trailed kisses down her neck, lightly raking his teeth against her collarbone. She moaned against him, her fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.
She could feel the books and binders from the bookshelf digging into her back, but she didn’t mind. All she could think about was the feeling of his fingers slipping her sweater over her head, trailing over her back and coming to rest at the hem of her jeans. Ellie blindly reached for his shirt, dragging it off him and trailing her lips along his chest. He tasted of salt and man, and she marveled at the fact that she had gone so long without being with somebody. That she had gone her whole life without being with him.
And how crazy was that? She had just met this guy, and now she was all over him? And yet, it was as if she had known Matt McKinnon her entire life. As if their souls were intertwined in a way she had yet to comprehend. There was a pull at her core when he looked at her with his clear blue eyes. The same blue eyes that had stared back at her filled with such an intense love that it left her as breathless as Elizabeth Hargrove had been in her dreams.
But Matt McKinnon wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. He was flesh and blood and man and at the moment, he was stripping her out of her jeans until she was standing befo
re him in nothing but lacy lingerie. A thrill of excitement raced over her skin and down her spine. For the first time in her entire life, Ellie felt reckless and impulsive, and not at all like herself.
And she didn’t care one bit.
Running her fingers through his hair, she raced her mouth along his jaw, suckling at his ear, delighted when she felt him inhale sharply. Throwing her head back again, she laughed. What a rush to be able to turn him on that way!
Before she knew it, the lace was torn away. Matt ran his fingers along the slick, wetness of her, before driving her up. Ellie clutched at the shelves, knocking books to the floor. Still, he mercilessly pushed her to the brink of madness and over the edge.
Breathing heavily, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her ankles clasped at his hips, letting him carry her to the desk. Matt ruthlessly cleared the desk of its clutter, sending books, papers, and even his laptop clattering to the floor. Hastily, he freed himself from the confines of his jeans and Ellie reached for him greedily, running her fingers from shaft to tip. He shuddered in her grasp.
Matt fought with the clasp of her bra, drawing the straps vigorously down her arms as her breasts spilled from the lace. Just as he had in her dream, he took her into his mouth, and the simple touch of his lips combined with the rhythmic movement of his fingers, propelled her to orgasm once more.
She couldn’t take it anymore. Desperate, she pulled him to her, gasping and moaning out loud when he plunged into her. His strokes were slow and steady, his member throbbing against her as he moved in and out of her once, twice. Painfully slow he stared down into her eyes and Ellie felt that connection once again. It was so strong and overwhelming that all she could do was hold on as he moved faster and faster, furiously pumping in and out of her, each thrust urging her to give in to the euphoria washing over her. Lost in passion, Ellie ran her fingers down his back, repressing a scream as he shuddered against her one last time and finally collapsed on her chest.
The Bear's Home Page 145
