by Sahara Kelly
“I seem to remember seeing something, but I thought it had to do with the snow melting, or warm air in the enclosed space.”
“I felt—I felt like I wanted to touch Devon.” She felt her cheeks heat. “I wanted to touch him everywhere.”
Charlotte blinked. “That is odd.”
“It is. I wanted to touch him so badly I almost forgot what we were doing. It was like some sort of hunger, Charlotte. Very powerful. And later I remembered it, and I wondered if perhaps those vapors or whatever they were might have had something to do with the terrible things that happened at the same time over in the Dower House.”
“Goodness.” Charlotte looked somber. “Like a drug perhaps? That is something you should ask James, I think. But it’s a logical assumption, especially if there is some sort of connection between our tunnel and the Dower House?”
“I’ll go back over those plans I found. Perhaps there will be an answer there It’s sort of like an itch in my head. I need to scratch it.”
“If you say so.”
Portia laughed. “I know. It all sounds insane.”
“My dear, you’ve lived more in the last few months than just about anyone I know. Given the latest events, nothing sounds insane at the moment.”
Both women turned at the sound of a carriage.
“It’s them.” Portia ran through the small house to the front door and threw it open.
And it was.
The carriage door opened and the two men alighted, pausing to tip the driver and take their bags from the luggage rack behind.
Then they were inside, and James chucked Portia under the chin before moving past and rapidly enfolding Charlotte in his arms, whisking her off into the parlor.
Portia was left staring at Devon.
“It’s you. It’s really you.”
Yes.
He was half smiling, large as life, right there in front of her. And yet she could still hear his voice in her head.
“You look...wonderful.” And he did. He was shaved, clean, dressed in clothes that fit his slim physique, and there was a healthy air about him she’d never seen before. For obvious reasons.
Suddenly shy, she blushed. “I’m so glad all is well with you.”
Portia.
She looked up into his warm brown eyes. And drowned in the heat she saw there. “What?”
Come here. He held his arms wide.
She rushed into them, feeling him enclose her in his embrace. It was perfect, she thought, it was everything she’d imagined and it felt so right.
“I’m glad. This is right, love. We are right.” Devon answered her thoughts aloud and brushed his knuckles over her cheek as she lifted her face to look at him.
“I’ve done what I set out to do, Devon. You are free.”
“Not really.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve freed me from my prison. But you’ve captured my heart. Forever, my sweet.”
“Ohhh.” She barely stopped herself from clasping her hands to her bosom. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. Instead of giggling, which she would have done under any other circumstances, she sighed and lifted her face to his, a mute invitation she knew he wouldn’t refuse.
And there, in the tiny hallway, Devon Harbury finally kissed Portia Fielding, holding her so tightly against him she felt their hearts beating in tandem.
There was no need for thoughts or words. They had both come home at last.
Almost…
TO BE CONTINUED…
Even though Portia had accomplished the near-impossible, and freed Devon Harbury, there were still many details to be resolved. They both had some important decisions to make. And there was the matter of the Harburys to settle.
Whether either of them could lay any blame at Alwynne Harbury’s door was debatable given her current condition.
But Inspector Burke and his new assistant had much to do pertaining to the night of carnage at the Dower House. Funerals, reports, messages to here from there, more reports and quite a few curious visitors eager to see where the atrocities had taken place.
There were whispers, of course. There were always whispers. The growing legend surrounding Harbury Hall was intensified once it was learned that Lady Alwynne had been viciously attacked and grievously injured by ruffians or thieves.
The lady herself never left her rooms, giving rise to various theories. The current one was that she had been blinded and was now with child by her attacker. Completely false, of course, but Little Harbury lapped up rumor after rumor, chewed it over thoroughly and spit out a revised version pretty much every week.
Many of the village ladies eagerly participated in the gossip-fest following the Harbury Hall horror, as it was coming to be known. But one lady was absent. Right on the heels of the shocking developments up at the Hall, came the news that poor Louise Onslow had slipped on the ice and broken her neck. She’d been found a couple of days after the snowstorm—on the road to her brother’s home.
So sad to lose such a long-time resident so tragically, they said. Such lovely hats too, they said. Mind you, if she knew what had happened to those twin girls she had apprenticed…well, they shook their heads and tsked.
And then turned back to a discussion of the living. Lady Alwynne was always more interesting than any of them, by virtue of her beauty and her title. Especially when that beauty was apparently ripped away.
The woman herself neither knew about the rumors or cared about her beauty any more.
She saw her maids and her physicians, no one else. She was seriously unwell and had neither the strength nor the inclination to leave the sanctuary of her suite. She seldom spoke, allowed her women to tend her without complaint, and betrayed no emotion or interest in anything that went on around her. The servants began to believe she was little more than a shell of her former self, and they were saddened by that knowledge.
The Christmas season was drawing closer and to everyone’s surprise, Lord Harbury had taken over much of the daily business of the estate. He was the one to insist on reviving the Yule log tradition, and the creative use of a thick muffler hid the worst of his appearance from the curious villagers who gathered to cut a huge tree, denude it of its branches and drag it to the fireplace in the grand ballroom of Harbury Hall.
When it caught alight, there were cheers from everyone, and Harbury himself distributed small tokens to the gathering in thanks.
It did much to turn the tide of opinion, of course, and over tankards of ale that night at the Dead Boar Arms, many agreed how pleasant it was to renew old traditions and see his Lordship being so charming in spite of his disfigurement. Nobody thought to question the absence of his assistant, Stephen Waring, since he wasn’t a regular tippler. The fact that he had disappeared on that terrible night was completely overlooked by pretty much everyone. Which was a sad comment on his life, but probably would have made a fine example for Reverend Onslow’s sermon on the Wages of Sin.
With all this going on, few noticed the bearded gentleman who had taken up residence at Harbury, nor did they hear him speak. His accent, gentle though it was, would have immediately betrayed him as foreign and some might even have recognized the Germanic pronunciation that occasionally crept in to his conversation.
But Baron Von Landau remained in the background by choice. He watched, he noted, he waited.
Three wagons of his equipment had arrived and he was eager to begin the New Year by recreating his most ambitious project. He’d spent a lot of time poring over his notes in the interim, even while visiting Randall Harbury and playing the occasional game of chess.
Lady Alwynne was unavailable to him at the moment. But he had hopes that would change when she was physically recovered. At the present time she was still a broken chick, huddled in the safety of her nest.
He could wait.
He would wait, and when she was ready he would help her forget the terrors of that night. A simple process, a few commands, and she would be
whole again.
Randall was more problematic.
He did not want his mind fixed, warped though Gerolf knew it was. No, Randall was a great deal more ambitious.
He wanted to retain his mind, but lose his body.
And he was convinced that Gerolf Von Landau was the man who could accomplish it.
Find out more in:
Asylum for the Mechanically Insane
Book 4 – Compulsion
(Coming in 2014 to an Internet eBook vendor near your eReader)
About the Author
Sahara Kelly is always happy to explain that her spelling errors aren’t really errors, since she was born and raised in England, where an extra “u” is quite in order. She likes to think it adds colour to her writing. Sadly, it’s not a widely held belief in the United States, so she’d like you to know she still retains a lot from her English childhood even though you won’t see much of it in her spelling.
Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris’ Saint novels and a passion for Monty Python, Sahara’s new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, citizenship, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings. (She still cherishes that extra ”u” though.)
After more than two decades of writing, Sahara is now enjoying the greater freedom offered to authors by the rapidly expanding independent publishing scene and looking forward to many more such experiences. Being freed of restraints has opened doors—for Sahara and many other writers. There are now no impediments; no obstructions barring the path from writer to reader. Which is, in many ways, exactly as originally intended when that first storyteller sat on a rock outside her cave, tugged her bearskin around her shoulders and smiled at her kids across the open fire with the words “Once upon a time...” (or however it sounded several million years ago.)
To find out more about Sahara Kelly and her writing, please drop by her website and visit her at:
Her website – http://www.saharakelly.com
This is where Sahara shares none of the intimate details of her life, but will present you with a list of books she'd like you to buy so that she can go do research on a beach in Aruba and be pampered with massages accompanied by drinks with umbrellas in them. She’ll send you a postcard. Thank you.
When not dreaming of lazing on tropical beaches, Sahara has a relatively active social presence on the Internet. Take a look:
Follow Sahara on Twitter: http://twitter.com/SaharaKelly
Friend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sahara.kelly
See what she’s blogging about: http://writersaharakelly.blogspot.com
Sahara on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16158.Sahara_Kelly
Since she has jumped into the world of private enterprise literature, Sahara has formed her own little publishing company. You're also welcome to come and check it out at the address below:
SK Private Label Publications: http://www.skprivatelabel.com
You can stay on top of what’s on the way from Sahara’s fertile imagination by subscribing to her newsletter or picking up her app for your iPhone or iPad. Yes, there’s even an app for Sahara Kelly. Best bet? Subscribe to the newsletter and keep up to date with everything going on by clicking here. (http://eepurl.com/bxpvp) She doesn’t send them out too often, so you won’t be swamped with unwanted mail. Sahara loathes that and refuses to inflict it on anyone else so you can go ahead and subscribe without worrying about it.
Also by Sahara Kelly: (*- co-written with S.L. Carpenter)
Madam Charlie
The Gypsy Lovers
Chocolate and High Heels
Tales of the Beau Monde
Letting Off Steam
Winding Her Up
Stripping Her Gears
My Renaissance Romance
Hired Help*
Outside the Box*
Princesses Gone Wild*
Open House
Pure Sin*
Knights Elemental
The Mating Place*
My Lady Vampire
Perfect Whore
And many more…
*~~*~~*
Several of the above titles were co-written with friend and writing partner S.L. Carpenter. Together, they have a dozen or so books available, each featuring their trademark touches of humor and heat. Their most recent release is a brand new stand-alone story titled So Into You.
This, and a whole bunch of Sahara Kelly’s other books, can be found online for your eReader at your favorite vendor. Quite a few are also in print. No excuses, people. You can add her stories to your bookshelves physically or digitally. Go get ‘em.
*~~*~~*
Sahara would like to mention that she’s recently initiated a new collaboration with her writing partner, S.L. Carpenter. They have blended another of their shared passions — art — and formed an online graphics business focusing on the complicated world of writers. If you’re interested in seeing what they get up to when they’re not writing something twistedly hot and sexy, they’d like to invite you to come visit their business at the link below and check out some of the amazing cover art currently being created by S.L. Carpenter. They’re certainly never bored…
P and N Graphics, LLC
Happy Reading…
