Highland Hunger Bundle with Yours for Eternity & Highland Beast

by Hannah Howell

“Gráinne.” His voice was filled with anguish. “Grace.”

  “Please,” she begged. “Take me home now.”

  “You belong to me.”

  She stared at him, not knowing what to say. “I . . . I need to go home.”

  “If that is what you wish.” He released her and opened the small window to give instructions to the driver. He turned back to her. “But we are far from finished, Grace.”

  No, she did not doubt that. But at the moment it was all she could do to hold herself together. She needed to be alone. She needed to make sense of all of this.

  “Where were you planning to take me tonight?” she suddenly asked.

  “To my house.” He inclined his head. “You belong with me. In my bed.”

  In spite of the blatant intent of his words, her body quivered at the prospect he presented. She had dreamed of being in this man’s bed in such intimate detail for so long, she almost felt he had the right to say such things to her now. To do such things to her. The temptation to allow him to do so was powerful. But rampant fear overwhelmed her. She busied herself by righting her appearance.

  They rode in silence, while a thousand questions raced through her mind. All of which went unspoken and unanswered.

  When the carriage came to a halt in front of her house, Lord Radcliffe opened the door and leapt to the ground. He turned and extended his arm to her. She allowed him to help her down. He followed her up the steps of the townhouse and stopped at the front door.

  “Grace,” he whispered to her, taking both her hands in his, “I know you are overwhelmed by this and I will give you time. We have much more to say, more than I can explain to you in this short carriage ride. We will see each other again.”

  His words brooked no argument. He clearly meant what he said. Part of her longed to jump back into the carriage with him right then and there. Part of her wanted to run inside and lock the door. “Yes, I know,” she murmured, accepting the inevitable.

  “You must break your engagement with Grayson. The sooner the better.”

  “What?”

  “I cannot keep contriving to speak to you alone by getting rid of him. It only complicates our situation. You don’t belong with him, Grace.”

  “I accepted his proposal only last night. I cannot just—”

  The door opened and Mary Sutton stood before them. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth formed a tight frown. Grace groaned inwardly, as he dropped her hands.

  “What in God’s name is going on out here?” she demanded, her eyes darting suspiciously between Lord Radcliffe and Grace.

  Before Grace could answer, he did it for her. “Good evening, Mrs. Sutton. I don’t believe I have had the honor of meeting you before. I am Stuart Phillips, Lord Radcliffe. It seems there was some unexpected family matter that needed Lord Grayson’s immediate attention, and he asked me to see your daughter-in-law home safely.”

  Mary was completely taken aback by his smooth manner. “I see,” she said through pursed lips. She was clearly not happy with the situation but could do nothing but scowl at the both of them. “Well, thank you, Lord Radcliffe. Now it’s time for Grace to come inside.”

  “Yes, of course. It is rather late,” he said blithely, a charming smile lighting his face. “Good evening.”

  Grace paused and said, “Thank you, Lord Radcliffe.” She tried to avoid his eyes but could not help but seek them out. He gave her a look so full of longing and desire that she almost gasped aloud. Only Mary’s tugging on her arm broke the spell as she stumbled through the entrance of the house. The door slammed shut behind her with a loud thud.

  “Well, I have never witnessed such a spectacle in all my life and never hope to see the likes of that again!” Mary cried, placing her hands on her wide hips in indignation. “And to think I witnessed it with my sainted son’s widow!”

  “I don’t know what you are making such a fuss about,” Grace declared. She turned to head up the stairs to her bedroom, longing to be alone.

  Mary took hold of her arm once again and spun her around. Mary’s fingers dug into the flesh of Grace’s upper arm. “What is going on with you and that man? I demand to know.”

  “Nothing is going on, Mother.” Grace stared at the woman she hated to call “mother.” “Lord Grayson asked him to take me home and Lord Radcliffe was kind enough to do so. I had no choice in the matter.”

  “I am not blind, nor am I stupid, so do not think to pull the wool over my eyes, miss. I saw the way that Radcliffe man was ogling you last night. And here he is taking you alone in his carriage at night and whispering and holding hands with you on my front doorstep. There is a certain look about you now. It all adds up to wickedness and sin in my book.”

  Everything added up to wickedness and sin in Mary’s book, which always left Grace wondering just what book Mary had been reading. But in this instance, she could not deny that Mary’s suspicions were well founded if not completely justified. Lord Radcliffe had been ogling her, had arranged to get her alone, had kissed her in his carriage, and made it clear he would be seeing more of her. The matter was fraught with all kinds of complications when she was engaged to another man. Filled with shame at her behavior, Grace had no defense except for the fact she had no idea what was happening to her and it all seemed quite beyond her control. She had not intended for any of it to happen.

  “I shall ignore your comments and go to my room now,” Grace stated, pulling her arm free of Mary’s grasp. She made it as far as the first step.

  “You had better stay away from that Radcliffe man, if you know what is good for you. He is nothing but trouble, mark my words. Lord Grayson has seen fit to make you his wife and does not deserve to be humiliated by the likes of you parading about with that wicked gentleman.”

  Grace did not turn around. She straightened her spine and took another step.

  “You may walk away from me now, but we will continue this discussion in the morning. I am telling you now that I absolutely forbid you to see that man again. Do you understand me, Grace?” Mary demanded, her voice like ice.

  Without looking back at Mary, Grace nodded her head very slowly and continued to walk up the stairs.

  Chapter Five

  Gráinne paced impatiently within the small, cramped cabin of the ship. Where was he? He simply had to get to her before the ship sailed. He had to stop them from taking her away. How long would it take him to figure out where she was when he arrived at the cottage and found her gone? Her parents were determined to get her as far away from Phillip as they could.

  Oh, such a scene they had had last night!

  Somehow they had learned of her secret visits to the cottage with Phillip. Her mother had screamed at her and called her terrible, filthy names. Her father declared that she had shamed the family with her behavior. Gráinne had cried and begged them to simply let her marry Phillip. Her father refused, deciding to send her to a convent in France immediately.

  Phillip had to get to the ship and free her before it sailed. If he did not, then Gráinne would escape at the first opportunity that presented itself in France, for there was nothing she could do now. Her father was taking no chances when he locked her in the windowless cabin.

  A sudden scream escaped her when she felt the lurch and sway of the small ship as it left the dock. She could not even look out the window, for there wasn’t one, but she knew. They were leaving. And Phillip had not reached her in time.

  “Oh, Phillip!” her heart cried. “Why didn’t you listen to me? Why didn’t we marry sooner? They couldn’t send me to a convent if I were married to you! If you made me like you, I would not be in this position!” Great sobs wracked her body. She ached to be with him. He was her life. She needed him and now she did not know when she would see him again. She threw herself on the narrow bed and cried herself to sleep.

  She awoke some time later when she was tossed to the floor by the wild rocking of the ship. The room was in complete darkness. Terrified, she could hardly stand because of the violent pit
ching of the ship. The cabin door burst open and she could tell from the dim light in the hallway that her father stood there.

  “Gráinne!” he called frantically. “Are you there?”

  “Papa?! What’s happening?” She reached for her father and he held tightly to her hand.

  “There’s a storm. We’re taking on water. We must get above deck.”

  Panic set in, for she glimpsed the abject fear on her father’s face. Quickly, she followed him out of the cabin. The ship rolled to one side and they were both flung against the wall. Icy-cold water rushed through the corridor as high as their waists. She and her father desperately fought their way against the surging sea, struggling to get above deck. Gráinne could barely move her legs and she was so terribly cold.

  “Phillip!” No one could hear her cries above the din of the waves and the screams of the other passengers. Great sobs racked her body, but still she screamed for him. “Phillip! Phillip!”

  Gráinne knew then she was going to die. Here in the cold, dark sea. Alone. Without him. If only Phillip had changed her. She had been so willing. She wanted to be with him at any price and was willing to pay it. If only he had listened to her, she would not be in this terrible situation. If only he had made her immortal then, she would not be dying now. . . . “Phillip!”

  “Phillip! Phillip!”

  Grace lurched up in her bed, gasping for air. Her frantic cries for Phillip had awakened her. Shivering uncontrollably with the bedclothes twisted around her legs, she could barely move. Filled with panic, she took deep breaths. She could still feel the icy water filling her lungs, but the air felt so good now. Air, she needed air.

  Overcome with fear and sadness, tears sprang to her eyes and she sobbed in the darkness of her room. Sobbed for herself, sobbed for wanting to be with Phillip. The pain and loss were unbearable. Had she died in her dream? What was happening to her? Why was she having these torturous dreams? It had to stop. It had to. She simply could not endure any more.

  She reached out and lit the lamp on her bedside table. Although she tried to resist the need, she could not help but look at the clock. Quarter past five. Grace shook her head. Why did she always wake at this time? What did any of it mean? She rose and straightened the bedclothes, which she had so entangled. Craving warmth, she reached for her thick robe. She folded her arms across her chest and she stood still, struggling against the magnetic force that pulled her to the window.

  She could not keep doing this to herself. She would not go and look for him again. Perhaps once she was married to Reginald and no longer in this house, the dreams about Gráinne and Phillip would finally cease to torment her.

  Perhaps if she spoke to Lord Radcliffe about it, she wouldn’t have the dreams anymore.

  Last night he said he shared the same dreams. He knew details of those dreams that were impossible for anyone to know. Unless he had read her dream journal. She crossed the room to her desk and unlocked the small drawer that held the journal. The leather-bound volume was still in its place. She knew she would not be able to bring herself to write about the drowning she experienced in her most recent dream. She shivered at the memory.

  There was no possible way Lord Radcliffe could be reading her journal.

  Then how did he know? How had he called her Gráinne? Could it be possible for them to be dreaming the same dreams? Her head hurt from trying to sort it all out. She had asked herself all these questions before she finally fell asleep last night and had no answers then either. She locked her journal back in the drawer and returned the key to its secret hiding spot, inside the locket her father had given her, which she placed in her jewelry box.

  She turned to stare at the window. Would he be there, as he was yesterday morning? What would she do if he was there? What would she do if he wasn’t? She longed desperately to see him. Needed to ask him countless questions. But she also feared the answers.

  Unable to resist the temptation any longer, she made her way across the room and stood beside the window. With a shaking hand she pulled back the rose toile curtain. It had been raining during the night and the pane was spotted with droplets of water. Her eyes scanned the dark garden and her heart began to race.

  And there he was, waiting for her beside the garden wall. His tall figure loomed above the shadows. His eyes sought hers through the misty predawn light and again, he held out his hand to her. Beckoning her to join him.

  With a deliberate slowness, Grace nodded to him before letting the curtain fall back into place. Acting on pure instinct, she rushed silently about her room, dressing as quickly and warmly as she could. As he had said last night, he did not know when they would get a chance to be alone again. She needed to speak with him. She needed answers or she would lose her mind if the dreams continued. Maybe together they could make sense of what was happening to them.

  Once she was dressed in her warmest gown, her wool pelisse and hat, and sturdy walking boots, she scribbled a quick note to Mary, explaining that she had gone for an early morning walk and would return soon. She raced to the window again. Lifting the curtain she could see that the shadows had begun to disappear as the sun rose behind a thick blanket of gray clouds and mist. Lord Radcliffe smiled when he saw her and she could not help but smile back at him. As fearful as she was, something drew her to him and she could not stay away. She nodded to let him know she was coming.

  As she left her bedroom, she realized there would be hell to pay with Mary later if she discovered what she was doing. She had no choice but to see Lord Radcliffe. Tiptoeing silently along the corridor, she prayed Mary would not hear her leaving. Grace moved like a wraith through the quiet house. Sounds from the kitchen alerted her that the servants were up and readying the fires. She slipped into the parlor and out the side door unnoticed. The patio was slick with rain, which was beginning to fall again. The sky had lightened but the heavy mist shrouded the garden, as she made her way to where she had seen Lord Radcliffe standing.

  His hand grabbed hers and pulled her to him. Without a word she followed him through the garden gate and into the narrow alleyway behind the townhouse. They scurried along the cobblestones to where his warm and waiting carriage stood at the end of the alley. He helped her up and was beside her in an instant as the driver urged the horses into motion.

  Alone with him now, she suddenly realized how reckless her behavior was. Not a soul knew where she was. Even she didn’t know where she was going. She had just run off with a complete stranger! Slowly she faced him. When she looked in his eyes, she knew he was not a complete stranger at all.

  “I did not know if you would come with me today,” he whispered.

  She sensed how relieved he felt that she had come with him. “I did not think I would either.”

  “Why did you change your mind?” He took her gloved hand in his.

  “I need to know what is happening to me. To us. Can you tell me?” she asked.

  “I can try.” He squeezed her hand. And oddly enough, this reassured her.

  As the carriage made its way through the rainy London streets, she had no need to ask where they were going. She was not in any danger. She rested her head against the leather seat and closed her eyes with a sigh.

  “You are even more beautiful than I remember, Grace.”

  Her eyes flew open at the sound of his voice. She found him staring at her, his hand still holding hers. No one had ever called her beautiful before. She could pass as pretty perhaps, but not beautiful. Her cheeks warmed and her heart skipped a beat.

  “What do you remember, then?” she asked him, full of wonder.

  “Your hair is a softer red now, more of an auburn, and not the fiery red that Gráinne possessed. Your facial structure is similar to hers.” He lifted his other hand to caress her cheek. His touch sent a spark of desire through her. “Same translucent skin, same high cheekbones. But it’s your eyes that are so striking. You have the most incredible blue eyes, exactly the same shade as Gráinne’s. I recognized them the moment I saw y
ou.”

  Grace held her breath. If what he said was true, she had been this other person, this Irish girl Gráinne, in another life. She could almost believe it because it explained so much. It was what she had suspected all along and written about in her dream journal. She had been this other woman. But what worried her more than anything was Lord Radcliffe. He was exactly the same.

  “But you have not changed,” she began slowly. Fear trickled up her spine. “You are still the same person, are you not?”

  He said nothing. But he did not deny it. He stared at her, the dark pools of his eyes drawing her in. He leaned closer, as if to kiss her. His lips were so close.

  She whispered, “You have not changed at all, yet I have. You look exactly the same. If we are dreaming of a past life, wouldn’t you have changed too? As I have?”

  “You are right. I have not changed.” His sensuous lips hovered close to hers. She longed for him to kiss her.

  She barely breathed. “Why?”

  His mouth sought hers then, his lips searing hot. He possessed her mouth so completely that all thought, all desire to speak, was obliterated at his touch. Her tongue met his and she lost herself in his hot and hungry kiss. She brought her arms up around his shoulders, feeling the strength of his muscles through the material of his black cape.

  She was lost to him then. There was no resistance, no regrets. Unlike last night, she was completely willing to follow him to the ends of the earth. What had changed? She did not know. She only knew she needed him. And wanted him with a desire she could not fight.

  When the carriage stopped, he finally released her with great reluctance on both their parts. Very gently, he carried her from the carriage, through the pouring rain, and up the steps into his townhouse. If there were servants in his house, she did not see them. While clinging to him, she had brief impressions of a dark and elegant residence. He continued right up the main staircase and along a dimly lit hallway before opening the double doors of a grand bedroom.