The Panther's Rival

by Emilia Hartley

  “Lord Dabney,” she exclaimed, hoping she sounded pleased to see him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “James, please,” he replied, though she thought he actually liked hearing his title. “I came by today hoping to show you around Dover, however I see you have already done that.”

  She offered him an apologetic smile. “I have. We read my grandmother’s will this morning.”

  “I suppose you have found yourself a rich woman,” he declared. “You must be pleased.” When she tried, and failed to smile back, he changed tactics. “I also have tickets to the theater tonight. I was hoping you would accompany me.”

  “Oh!” How did she get out of this one politely? “That’s incredibly kind of you, James, but I fear I must decline. It’s been a long day, and I really should get some work done on my dissertation.” She tried to pretend the look in his eyes was disappointment, and not anger. “But thank you for the invitation. It really was kind of you.” The smile she gave was as genuine as she could make it. “Thank you for coming by, Lord Dabney. It’s always a pleasure to see you.” As quickly as she could, she stepped back toward the hallway, hoping to make a quick exit, but James grabbed her arm.

  “Don’t walk away from me,” he ordered through gritted teeth. Rage flashed in his dark eyes and his grip on her arm tightened. Fear rippled down Ellie’s spine, but when she tried to get away, his grip only got stronger. “I asked you to the theater.” His hand began to twist. “The least you could do is be gracious, since I went through all the trouble.”

  “James,” Ellie said, trying not to whimper. “You’re hurting me.”

  He held her gaze for one more terrifying moment, then released her as if he’d been burned. “My apologies, Ellie,” he said quietly, and all trace of the monster she had just seen was gone, replaced by mournful contrition. “I was out of line. I’ll see myself out.”

  Ellie waited until he was out of sight before dashing down the hallway and straight up to her room. It wasn’t until the door was shut and bolted that she sank down with her back against it really letting herself be afraid.

  Elizabeth stood next to Lord Dabney, politely saying nothing as he discussed the Regent’s latest ruling with her father. The energetic, lively spirit that had once animated her seemed to have disappeared, and the only time she really showed any life was when Dabney spoke to her. Her eyes would light up in adoration, and it was as if her whole world revolved around him.

  Guests milled around the edges of the ballroom, smiling, chatting, and sipping champagne, as they watched the dancers in the center perform the ever-popular English Country Dance. Across the room, Matthew leaned against the wall, glaring at the woman who had broken his heart.

  Elizabeth rubbed at her chest. Though she couldn’t say why, her heart ached in ways she had never encountered. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why Matthew McKinnon was staring at her that way, as if she were everything he had ever wanted, but couldn’t have, but it was unnerving, to say the least.

  Glancing up at Dabney, she gently tapped his arm. “I believe I shall take a turn around the garden,” she told him quietly.

  Dabney’s brows knit in concern. “My dear, are you alright?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Oh yes, quite,” she replied, fanning herself with a gloved hand. “It’s just a little warm in here. I believe the fresh air will do me some good.”

  Still watching her strangely, Dabney searched her face. Satisfied, he nodded. “Do not wander off,” he warned, then turned back to finish the conversation with her father.

  Elizabeth wasted no time in threading herself through the guests and out into the blessedly crisp air of the gardens. Her shoes crunched over gravel as she briskly made her way down the path to her favorite haunt.

  “Do not wander off,” she murmured waspishly under her breath as she turned the corner around a particularly high hedge. The house was now mercifully out of sight. “As if I were a child. Who does he think he is?” Pacing, Elizabeth kicked at the hedge in a fit of temper.

  Your fiancé, Dabney’s voice whispered across her mind. I am your fiancé, and you will be a dutiful wife and do as you’re told.

  Elizabeth scowled. For some reason, any time she became unhappy with her lot, she heard Lord Dabney speaking to her, almost as if he were right next to her. It was strange, truth be told. She knew he wasn’t actually speaking to her through her thoughts. That would mean she was quite mad. Yet, it still felt like he was there, especially whenever she began to have doubts regarding her love for him.

  She was being silly. Of course she loved Dabney. He was handsome, charming, and wealthy. If he combined the Dabney vineyards with the Hargrove Brewery business, their partnership would hold the majority for the spirits market. It was a lucrative match for both her father and Lord Dabney, with the added bonus that he claimed he was madly in love with her.

  Initially, the prospect of Lord Dabney as her husband was only appealing so far as it was her duty to her family as the eldest daughter to procure a lucrative marriage. Now…well, if she were being honest with herself, now it was as if her entire world revolved around him, sometimes even against her will. Her every waking thought was Dabney, Dabney, Dabney. She couldn’t even put on a simple dress without wondering whether or not he would like it. It was infuriating.

  She should be happy, shouldn’t she? She was in love with the man her father intended her to marry. A wealthy man, at that. Most girls were not that lucky. And yet, she could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.

  There were times that Lord Dabney scared her. There was a possessive maliciousness about the way he touched her, as if he alone could claim her. She supposed that sentiment was true, however it didn’t make it any less disturbing.

  “Elizabeth.”

  Turning, she was startled to see Matthew rounding the corner into the small cove where she stood. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, but his eyes were lit with a mixture of fiery passion and desperation. Reaching for her, he pulled her against him and cradled her head against his chest. “My love, I have been so worried. Why have you turned away from me? Have we been discovered?”

  Elizabeth felt her chest constrict with pain. Was that sorrow she was feeling? And why? Who was Matthew McKinnon to her and why on Earth did she feel so terribly drawn to him? Confused, she pulled away from him. “Matthew,” she whispered, suddenly fighting back tears, “why are you here?”

  “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 sweetly, 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.”