A cool gust of fall wind swirled through the garden, bringing with the scent of decaying leaves. Aidan glanced down at his book, breaking eye contact. Mary Ellen could finally breathe once more. She tore her attention away, wondering what he read. Most likely something dull, such as farming techniques.
“Well?” Sally was looking at her expectantly, her large blue eyes full of mischief.
“Well, what?” Unable to take the pressure any longer, Mary Ellen surged to her feet and started toward the house, eager to escape the outdoors, escape Aidan’s piercing attention and Sally’s ridiculous questions. But mostly, eager to escape her own confusing reactions to the man.
“Well, will you ask him to dance tonight at the All Hallows Eve Ball?”
She clutched her shawl close. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Mary Ellen pushed the door wide and stepped into the warm kitchen. The roar of conversation and orders being shouted vibrated in the large, stone room. Gone was the quiet fall afternoon. “Women don’t ask men to dance. Tisn’t proper.”
They weaved their way around a maid churning butter. In the air hung the welcoming scents of nutmeg and cinnamon.
“Well, will you dance with him if he asks to sign your card?” Sally stepped aside as a cook rushed by with biscuits on a tray.
Mary Ellen snatched a warm roll from the passing woman. Would he ask her? Why did the thought send a warm shiver of anticipation through her body?
“Oy!” The cook cried out, slapping her hand away from the biscuits. “Out wit ye two!”
Sally and Mary Ellen flushed with guilt and moved toward the door. The house practically buzzed with activity. The ball would, no doubt, be an enormous success, especially given the fact that balls rarely happened in their small shire. “I will have to accept his invitation to dance, should he ask. It would be rude to refuse.”
They moved into the foyer, the maids busy filling vases with red roses from the greenhouse. Before Meg had married Grayson, they never would have had flowers in the fall. Yet another advantage of marrying wealthy.
“And if he asks you to marry him?”
Mary Ellen rolled her eyes. “He won’t.”
“I’ve seen him watching you.”
Mary Ellen froze halfway up the curved staircase. She should have been horrified. At the very least, offended. Instead, she couldn’t deny the odd sense of excitement that whispered through her. “No, he doesn’t.”
Sally nodded, completely serious. “Indeed. Often, you know. He watches you when no one is looking.”
A heated rush of emotion swirled low in the pit of her belly. She was pleased, damn it all. She didn’t want to be pleased. She had a plan, a plan to marry a man with a title and money, or at the very least, money. A man who smiled often and laughed loudly. A man who never took life seriously. Her plan most assuredly did not involve the poor and serious Aidan Callaghan.
“So, shall you agree to an engagement if he asks?”
Mary Ellen steeled her resolve and continued up the steps. “Not at all.”
“Why ever not? I’ve heard many a women discuss him. He’s rather handsome and mysterious.”
Mary Ellen gritted her teeth, annoyed, although why, she wasn’t sure. “No, I won’t because I’m going to marry someone wealthy and titled.”
“Mary Ellen, what a snob you are!” Meg stood in the middle of the hall, her belly swollen underneath her blue day dress.
Her older sister practically glowed with her pregnancy. Her face was rosy, her brown hair shined and her blue eyes sparkled with a happiness that Mary Ellen would have envied, had she not adored her. Standing next to Meg, Sally was her miniature version. Mary Ellen was the odd one out with her brilliant red hair.
Mary Ellen frowned. “Easy for you to say, Meg, you’ve married the only handsome and wealthy man in the vicinity.”
Her sister sighed, taking Mary Ellen’s hands in hers. “Dear, you no longer have to worry about money. You know that. Grayson would never see you suffer. You don’t have to marry for wealth.”
Mary Ellen glanced at the carpet runner, her cheeks flushing. “I know.”
The problem was she wanted to marry. She had always desired a home of her own. A doting husband. Darling children. But she wouldn’t settle for a man with little to offer. No, she’d already lived a life of poverty and she swore she was never returning to that gray and depressing state.
Meg released her hands and smiled. “So, perhaps you might possibly think of marrying for love?”
Mary Ellen gave her sister a tight smile. “Indeed.”
“Good.” Meg kissed her cheek. “Now, Sally dear, do help me down the steps. I must see that everything is in order for tonight’s festivities. While I’m planning and plotting, you must find Hanna and keep her occupied. The child is bored and intent on making mischief.”
Sally took Meg’s arm and they started toward the steps. “Cook said if I look into a mirror tonight, I’ll see the face of the man I’m to marry.”
“Sally, that’s pagan and sinful.”
They started down the steps. “So is your celebration, but you’re still having it!”
“Well, yes, but that’s different.”
“Meg, please let me attend tonight! I promise I’ll behave.”
“Darling, I told you, not this year. There will be much too much indulging in things a young lady dare not witness.
“Which is exactly why I want to go,” Sally muttered.
Mary Ellen smiled.
“Perhaps next year,” Meg replied.
“It’s not fair…”
Mary Ellen watched the two until they disappeared into the foyer, taking their argument with them. Meg might have been fortunate enough to marry not only a rich man, but also one who adored her, but Mary Ellen was realistic.
She moved to the window at the end of the hall and glanced outside. A patchwork of fall colors—red, yellow and orange—quilted the landscape. And there, below in the garden, the bench was now empty. Aidan gone.
Mary Ellen sighed, leaning her forehead against the chill glass window. She knew that love and money didn’t often go hand in hand. She would be silly to believe she could find both.
And if she had to choose, she would, undoubtedly, choose money.
o0o
For two months now Aidan had fantasized about Mary Ellen James. For two months nothing else had occupied his mind.
From the moment he’d stepped from the carriage, intending to visit his friend Grayson Bellamont for a much needed rest and had seen the man’s sister-in-law with the flaming red hair, he’d been rather obsessed. Even now he was acutely aware of her hiding behind those daisies. He’d sensed her the moment he’d stepped outside. Drawn to her like a mongrel to a bone.
In the evening, he watched her as she pushed her green beans around her plate, pretending to eat them. He studied her while she read those gothic novels, her face showing her every emotion as she became fully immersed in the story.
He adored the way she constantly hummed. The way the light hit her hair and made her glow as if she held the very sun. He even adored the way she took such pains to take care of her gowns, smoothing the wrinkles and frowning over a mere speck of dirt.
Yes, the woman absolutely intrigued him.
Unfortunately, she was doing her damnedest to pretend he didn’t exist. Not that she was indifferent. No, he knew she was attracted to him, he could sense it, smell the desire. A scent that riled the beast deep within. Aidan’s fingers curled around the book he held, his nails digging into the leather binding as he forced himself not to look her way.
Yes, she roused the beast within him when he’d taken such pains to conceal the animal. He could seduce her so easily, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t betray Grayson. Besides, he wasn’t what she wanted. What she needed. She’d made that clear upon many occasions. Her words hadn’t been meant for his ears, but he’d heard them all the same.
“When I marry, he’ll be rich and titled.”
The bitterness he felt
at the words was so unlike him. But then again, so were the emotions he felt when she was near. Hell, it had been years since a female had piqued his interest, and a human female at that. Why here? Why now? And why couldn’t he bloody stop thinking about her?
Aidan sensed Grayson before the man appeared in front of him, silent as a hawk swooping down on a field mouse. “Gray.”
His friend paused under the maple, his pale face intense, his green eyes so knowing that it was hard for Aidan to meet his gaze. “Aidan. How do you fare?”
Aidan dropped the book to the bench, hoping Gray hadn’t noticed the indents from his fingers, and glanced toward the house once more. Mary Ellen had disappeared inside with her younger sister Sally. It was as if the very sun had hidden behind a cloud.
“Well enough.”
Obsessed, that’s what he was. Yes, he’d smelled her scent the moment he’d stepped outside. And like that mongrel, he’d followed the scent to the bench. He’d seen her immediately, that red hair like a beacon even though she was half hidden amongst the flowers, watching him…always watching him although trying desperately not to.
“You’re always staring at him,” her younger sister Sally had said, although Mary Ellen had denied the accusation. He wasn’t what she wanted. What she needed. He had to constantly remind himself. But the animal inside didn’t care. The animal only wanted her for his own.
Grayson glanced toward the brittle and brown patch of daisies where Aidan was focused. “What do you find so intriguing?”
Aidan bit back his laugh. “Nothing at all. Merely anxious to be in my own home.” He doubted Grayson would think kindly on the fact that he was imagining seducing his sister-in-law. “How are preparations for the festival coming along?”
“Well, although I can’t claim to be involved. Meg is handling the affairs.” He glanced back at the house, a smile hovering upon his lips. The same smile he wore whenever he mentioned his wife.
How envious Aidan was of the man’s happiness.
Grayson settled beside him, resting his elbows on his knees. “I have a bad feeling about this festival.”
Aidan stiffened. Grayson’s instincts were usually spot on. “What do you mean?”
“You know as well as I that there are those who would see us harmed, if not worse. Those who do not accept our kind. After what happened here, with Meg…” He swallowed hard, the emotion evident, even though it had been years.
“It’s been some time since you were attacked,” Aidan reminded him.
Looking out upon the beautiful and peaceful gardens ripe with reds and yellows of autumn, it was hard to believe there was any evil in the world. But he knew better than anyone what lurked in the shadows. Hell, most would consider him part of that nightmare. Perhaps he was. His former fiancé certainly placed him in the same category as demons and devils.
“I’m sure all will be well,” Grayson said, although it was obvious by the tone of his voice that he was still uneasy. “Meg insisted upon the festival, claiming we must make friends with our neighbors if we are to live in peace. I think she merely wants more allies, should the time come when we need them. But when a woman is with child, it’s best to merely nod and agree.”
“And when she’s not with child?”
Grayson grinned and slid him a wry glance. “Same thing. Nod and agree.”
Aidan remembered that feeling with his fiancé. They’d been giddy with adoration, both trying to please the other, seeing no fault. But there had been one thing she couldn’t overlook. It hadn’t worked with his fiancé and it would never work with Mary Ellen. The longer he stayed here, the more the impossibility of it all tore at his insides.
“You haven’t fed in some time.” Grayson watched him closely, too closely. “You’re pale, your eyes too light in color.”
Aidan watched a red leaf skip and roll across the crushed stone path, chased by the autumn wind. “No, I haven’t.”
“Starving yourself will not change who you are. You need to feed, especially before the festival. All those warm bodies in one room will drive you mad.”
Aidan nodded, although he didn’t agree. He liked to suffer the pangs of hunger. A punishment of sorts for what he’d been born.
Grayson had no idea he’d already gone mad thinking about Mary Ellen, of what he could never have. He’d find no joy in feeding, although his body craved blood as a man in a desert would crave water.
“Before I take my leave, Meg wanted me to remind you that you are welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. Certainly until your cottage is repaired. Of course with four overly emotional females in residence, you might be better off sleeping in a rundown estate.
Aidan nodded, smiling. “Thank you. But I don’t wish to overstay my welcome. The house is almost complete. I shall move within a fortnight.”
Grayson slapped him on the back in a companionable way. “Good to know. You need your own home. A family.”
“A happily ever after?” Aidan replied blandly.
Grayson stood, grinning down at him. The man knew how ridiculous he sounded, but didn’t give a shite. “It will happen. Look at me.”
Indeed. Grayson had the ideal life. A woman who didn’t care what he truly was. Who loved him anyway. Could he ever find that?
“You’re sure you’ll be well enough tonight then? In a crowd?”
Aidan sighed. Was Grayson worried he’d go feral and feast upon the guests? “You know as well as I that I’m not a monster, Gray.” Although he had to admit, some would wholeheartedly disagree.
Chapter Two
“Do you believe in ghosts, Miss James?”
Startled, Mary Ellen spun around, her mask tilting precariously with the movement. “How did you recognize me?” As she straightened her mask of blue silk, she realized what a silly question she’d asked, considering she was one of only two people in attendance with red hair. The other guest was forty and male.
Aidan shrugged. It was Aidan. Although he rarely spoke, she’d know the sound of his voice anywhere. He wore a simple black suit and a simple black mask, his overly long hair pulled back with a queue. Simply dressed, yet she couldn’t deny there was an elegant ease about him. More than one woman had looked his way when he’d entered the ballroom an hour ago.
“Your walk. Your…”
She waited for one breathless moment, then, forgetting her good sense, prompted. “Yes?”
“Your scent.”
Heat shot through her body, curling down to her toes. She glanced around, wondering how the conversation could so quickly have taken a turn for the inappropriate. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She was annoyed. Annoyed that he could make her feel such sinful emotions. Annoyed that other woman found him so bloody attractive. Mostly annoyed that she couldn’t have him as her own.
He wasn’t smiling, but his face was completely serious, as usual. Half hidden in an alcove with windows that overlooked the back garden, she felt somewhat safe from prying eyes. But she certainly wasn’t safe from the man.
Flushing, she studied the polished floorboards. “Are you saying, Mr. Callaghan, that I smell quite badly?”
He leaned against the wall, which brought him closer to her. “The opposite, in fact.”
No other explanation. He remained stubbornly silent, watchful. The man left her feeling quite odd. Time actually seemed to stand still when he was near, which was utterly ridiculous. There, in that alcove, hidden by red, velvet curtains, it almost felt as if they were the only two people in the world.
His gaze dropped to her lips, then lower to her neck, even lower still. How she wished she’d taken Meg’s advice and worn the neckline of her blue, silk gown a little higher.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, meeting her gaze once again.
“What question?” Lord, she was confused. She couldn’t think when he looked at her with such heat in his eyes. He wanted her. She knew the look of attraction. Had seen the same heated gaze in the lads around town. The difference was tha
t their passionate glances hadn’t stirred her blood.
“Ghosts, do you believe, as the ancient Celts did, that the world between the living and dead is thin this time of year? That spirits can come and go as they please?”
“Nonsense,” she whispered. And it was nonsense, so why did a shiver of unease caress her skin?
He reached out and drew his fingers down her bare arm. “You’re chilled.”
“Your hands are cold.”
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