 
Becoming the Witch | J.M. Davies

# Becoming the Witch

## by

## Author J. M. Davies

This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2019 by J.M.Davies  
Visit J.M.Davies official web-site <http://www.jenniferowendavies.com/> for the latest news, book details, and other information.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This book or any portion thereof  
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever  
without the express written permission of the publisher  
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2019

Author J.M.Davies

Cover Art provided by G.S.Prendergast.

Copyediting provided by Faith Williams from the Atwater Group.

Other books by J. M. Davies

The Rise of Orion series

Capturing the last Welsh Witch

The Witch's Heart

Revenge of the Witch

Destiny of the Witch

Other titles

The Vineyards of Allegretti

Marnie's Plan
Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my writer friend, Jennifer Smith for her constant support as I thrash out plot outlines and writerly woes at Starbucks. Also, Dianne Donovan for reading through the manuscript with her critical eye searching for errors that I am blinded to. My editor, Faith Williams for her kindly worded prompts, which help me create the best story possible. I would not be able to complete any book without my husband Paul Davies, and my children who provide unwavering support while I write, which makes it all worthwhile.
Chapter 1

August 1815

The sun burst to life in a glorious blaze of pinks and purple streaks across the horizon, heralding the dawn of a new day. Miss Elizabeth Marshall pushed a snorting Arabian Spirit hard over the long row of thick hedges and galloped across the grassy field as sheep raised their heads, bleating. Everything would change after this fourteenth day in August 1815. Hawkswood Manor—her home—would belong to a distant cousin.

She gripped the reins tighter at the injustice of her life that gave her no choice in any matter concerning her own future. Letting her long hair blow wildly across her back in the morning breeze, she embraced the coolness as it ruffled through her thin cotton sleeves. In a few hours, she would belong in name and body to another; like a prized stallion, she had been bought and paid for. And as such, she would have to conform to the rules of society.

She didn't expect Sir Charles to love her, but she hoped a fondness might grow and from that tiny spark, maybe something deeper would emerge. Refusing to let the tears fall, she charged over the fields as the hooves beat hard into the dark earth. Lowering herself close to Arabian's silky ears, she whispered as he flew across the damp grass, feeling as one with the animal.

"But I will have you, my sweet. And we will win him over in our own way, for Sir Charles, I hear, is an excellent horseman. And I'll wager, he enjoys a good race."

She smiled and rubbed her nose, sniffing the familiar scent of the beast beneath her trousers, determined to make a go of married life. She would be a dutiful wife. As Arabian Spirit snorted and shook his head, she brought him to a stop and maneuvered him around to stare down over the clear rolling green hills of Gloucestershire with the fields, lakes, sheep, and cattle spread before her like a painting. The tears streamed down her cheeks—the only ones she would allow herself. Up here, all alone, she gave way to the tumult of emotions roaring inside her.

A short while later, back at the manor in the stables, light footfalls and a shriek made her shoulders tense as she stroked the chestnut and cream horse.

"Mistress, stop right there. You're to come with me right now and get cleaned up. You've a wedding to get ready for."

Elizabeth didn't turn around. She knew her maid Kitty stood there with her hands clutching her motherly hips in an attempt at being annoyed. They were like sisters, telling each other all their secrets. A fresh surge of tears held her from turning, and she wiped her hands over her front, stalling.

"Come now, miss. Your intended won't be happy with you smelling of horses, will he? You need some rose water to smell sweet for him."

Elizabeth smiled to herself. She had confided to Kitty her nervousness about the wedding night and what that would entail. Taking a deep breath, she faced her friend, who covered her mouth with both hands as soon as she caught sight of her. Elizabeth wiped the back of her hand across her muddy cheek and stared at her filthy clothes. When she descended her horse earlier after the long ride, she had tripped and landed in a pool of dirty water.

"Oh, my good Lord, you're a right mess. Come along. We don't want Sir Charles to catch you looking like a common farmhand. Do you think he will let you wear those breeches you insist upon when you're married?"

"Well, they are more suitable for when I'm mucking around in the stables. And I can sit astride, which is more comfortable. A dress is impractical with all the bending and shoveling I do." She bent over, flashing her behind and making Kitty laugh.

"Oh Lizzie, I'm not sure getting married is going to turn you into a proper lady, but you must try, miss. Promise me."

She nodded, knowing that her husband would have the right to administer punishment if he deemed it necessary. Not knowing the measure of the man, she didn't want to give him any reason to find fault with her, at least not on their first day as husband and wife.

"I did not desire a husband and particularly not one I hold no feelings for, but I am resigned to my situation, Kitty. My parents are no more, my home is entailed to another, and my inheritance is bound with my marriage to Sir Charles. I will have nothing, unless I marry, and no means to support myself. I can play the pianoforte well, paint a reasonable picture, and sing without your ears hurting. Oh, and I can bake some tasty biscuits. But earn a living? What experience do I have of that? What good am I except to carry his heirs? No—I have no choice but to marry this man. But I promise you, I will do all I can to be a good wife."

She knew little of the man she was to exchange vows with. But Papa said he was an honorable man. A friend. Thus, the marriage agreement had been drafted with his solicitor to protect her as he departed for the war in America.

Kitty stepped closer, avoiding the steaming piles of horse manure. She swiped her hand across Elizabeth's face, where her thick, wavy hair stuck to her cheeks. "Don't change too much, miss. The right man will love you for who you are, like my David."

Elizabeth stared at her friend, whose bright-blue eyes bulged with tears. She took a step to hug her but stopped short, not wanting to dirty the maid's clothing. Kitty's eyes widened as if alarmed, but she stepped closer and breached the gap. Her mouth spread into a smile and she wrapped her arms tight around her. They hugged, cried, and snorted with laughter.

She leaned into the warmth of her friend and said over her shoulder, not wanting to see her eyes, "I thought I had more time. Papa said I wouldn't get married until I turned one and twenty, but with him lost to me, that time is here. I don't get the chance to find the right man, Kitty. I must make this work, or I will be miserable, so I will do my best to make him happy."

"Aw, miss," Kitty said, "once he knows you like we all do, he cannot fail to fall in love with you."

Elizabeth squeezed her friend tighter, praying that would be the case. "I'll miss you, Kitty, more than you will ever know. But your place is here with your loved ones, and I'll not part you from them. I've been told I will have a good lady's maid. I have been assured that I will be well looked after and educated in the ways befitting my station," she said, repeating the exact words Sir Charles had said when he discussed the move to his ancestral home at Tregowen House, his main place of residence. She buried her face in Kitty's shoulder, inhaling the light fragrance of lavender, and wished things were different.

~~*~~

Standing now in her wedding dress made of delicate white tulle with lace embroidered with tiny primroses and leaves felt surreal. Staring into the mirror, she barely recognized the young woman looking back at her with rosy cheeks and dark, tight side ringlets. The rest of her hair was gathered at the back in a tight bun with a pretty garland of rosebuds and green leaves sitting upon her head.

Holding her neck with her slim hand, she turned to examine her features again, wondering whether Sir Charles might find her a little pleasing. Kitty slipped on a three-tiered pearl choker, closing the clasp at her neck, and walked around to study her. Elizabeth ran her hands over the necklace that belonged to her mother, a woman she never knew.

"You are beautiful, Lizzie, and I wouldn't be half surprised if Sir Charles doesn't fall a little in love with you the moment he sets eyes on you. And before you know it, you will have several bairns to fuss over."

As Kitty laughed, Elizabeth remained silent, staring long at her reflection in the mirror, touching the cool pearls. She wished her mother still lived, today especially, for there were many questions she wished to ask which were left unanswered. Not only was today her wedding day, but the anniversary of her birth as well as her mother's demise. Today, she turned eight and ten years old. Trying to imagine being a wife seemed hard, but a mother? The walls of the room closed in and she didn't have enough air to breathe as she clutched her chest, gasping.

"Maybe—maybe it will help fill this emptiness inside," she said vacantly, not expecting a response. But Kitty broke down in tears and hugged her so tight she could barely catch her breath.

"No tears, Kitty. I will write to you often and you must write back with all your news. Who knows, if I am lucky enough to bear children, I will have need of your insight, having raised half your siblings. Would you visit if I have a need of you?"

"Of course, Lizzie. If the new master will spare me. I'll be there to help in any way I can."

"It's a deal then. If the need arises, I will send a note, and I will plead with my cousin to spare you. There—it gives me great comfort to know I have you as a friend, Kitty."

Loosening her grip, she sniffed and dabbed her face to restore her composure. Kitty handed her a small glass of mulled wine and, knowing the day ahead of her, she sipped, allowing the liquid to warm her inside. After the ceremony, they would return to Hawkswood for a simple wedding feast. The servants and some of the tenants would celebrate later after she and Sir Charles had retired, but she had left instructions with Mabel, the housekeeper, to ensure the staff all had wine and food to share in the occasion.

The walk from Hawkswood Manor down the winding gravel path to the small family church surrounded by dense woodland was quiet, and she was grateful because she couldn't muster any words. Mabel and Percy, the butler, were the only people to accompany her and witness the ceremony. Staring above at the thick, rolling white clouds, hundreds of blackbirds swarmed the air, flapping their wings and cawing in the blue sky, flying away. A solitary bird dropped to the ground and landed, unmoving, at her feet.

She gasped at the sight of the small feathered creature and crouched to inspect it. She nudged its wing with her gloved hand to check whether it was dead. _What a delicate beauty. How sad._ As the tips of the glove touched the bird, an electrical pulse of heat burst from the pit of her stomach. The force of the energy that flowed through her veins and charged through her fingers shocked her, almost knocking her over.

A moment later, the dazed bird fluttered and flew away. She stared in amazement and fear. _Did I do that?_ Glancing back at the servants, she saw they were caught up holding hands and missed the plight of the feathered creature. She removed her gloves and studied her hands, which throbbed with heat. Elizabeth rubbed them and replaced her gloves, putting what happened behind her as she stood and walked past the headstones in the graveyard, headed for the church.

The yew trees that edged the stone wall swayed and the leaves rustled on the floor. A brisk chill invaded, and her fingers continued to plague her. She clenched her hands up and as she did, the leaves flew skyward. She stared in wonder as they rose and fell as she opened and moved her hands. But growls at the edge of the woods drew her attention away and the leaves fell to the ground in a pile. Elizabeth had never known wolves to inhabit the woods, but her eyes zeroed in on a pack of large, vicious beasts that stood at the perimeter of the trees. One large gray wolf stepped forward, raised its snout into the air, and howled. She opened her mouth to tell the others, but the creatures twisted around and vanished from sight.

"Did you hear that?" Elizabeth asked, gazing at the servants.

"What, dear?"

"That howl? It sounded like a wolf?"

"Milady, there are no wolves around here. They have been extinct for years."

_How amazing_. The creatures she saw resembled the wolves from the books in the library, and they stood still, as if sensing something strange too. Staring around, the air stilled, as if pausing to take a breath. She narrowed her eyes, staring at the edges of the trees, certain the wolves were still there in the shadows. Goose bumps broke across her flesh as the temperature dropped. A strong, earthy scent filled her nostrils, and more growls surrounded her. Other odors assailed her and a desperate need to run away called. But unfamiliar voices burst to life and whispered around, rooting her to the spot. Elizabeth swirled in a circle, searching to see who they belonged to. The light from the sun vanished and the world plunged into a blinding darkness.

Mabel screamed. "Oh Lord, have mercy upon us all! The world is coming to an end."

Nothing scared Elizabeth and she peered into the inky sky, seeking the sun and mesmerized by the spectacle unfolding around her. She had read about a solar eclipse but had never witnessed such an event when the moon passed in front of the sun, casting a shadow over the earth. The eeriness surrounded her and swallowed her whole as terrifying voices whispered vile words to her, filling the silence.

You will hang. Murderer. Witch!

They echoed back and forth until she couldn't bear it any longer; she covered her ears but stared into the dark, endless void.

Be careful, mistress.

At this warning, she jumped. This time, she recognized the voice even though she couldn't recall the name. In that moment, time suspended, and the scenery changed. Elizabeth stood up high, perched on a wooden platform before a roaring mob. The executioner yanked her closer to the long rope that dangled in front of her. A giant of a man lifted the noose and placed it over her head.

" _No_."

"Don't struggle, mistress. I'll make it quick."

The yells from the crowd called for her death. Rotten, foul-smelling vegetables hit her face and slid down her chest as she stood there. She would die today; there was no saving her, for they had judged her guilty, and she would pay with her life.

Elizabeth cried out, "No, please, I didn't kill him. I helped him."

Staring at the faces before her—neighbors and people she had helped birth their babes—not one stepped to defend her. With her hands tied, she stared up at the snowy sky, praying these last few moments would be over soon. _May God forgive them_. Glancing at her executioner dressed in black, she couldn't see his eyes, but stared at the wooden lever where his hand rested. He gave a quick nod and she readied herself. The creaking and sudden jolt stole her air. The floor vanished from beneath her feet and she dangled, twisting in the air. The world blurred. She jerked and twitched, desperate for air. But in seconds, the yells dimmed to silence.

Two arms gripped her and jolted her hard, snapping the trance that swamped her. The sun peeked behind the gray clouds, and she stood in the church yard once more, with Sir Charles studying her with his cold, flat eyes. He spoke, but she didn't hear the words, still lost in what had taken place. As he pulled her, she shoved his chest to free herself and realized what she had done.

"Oh, Sir Charles, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to be so forceful. I had a fright and needed air."

"A solar eclipse can understandably be scary, but it is a natural phenomenon, my dear," he said in his nasally monotone voice.

She nodded at the man before her. Despite the age difference of some four and twenty, he wasn't displeasing to the eye. Standing there, she observed his tall, well-built stature possessed an air of composed elegance. He sniffed through his small, slim nose and held his mouth tight. His manner of dress was impeccable without being over fancy, with the usual tight-fitted knee-length buff breeches, a white shirt, and black waistcoat complete with a matching tailcoat and leather riding boots. His small eyes narrowed and held hers far longer than any other man ever dared to before.

Did he like what he saw?

Straightening her back, she refused to allow his height to intimidate her. She would not cower to him. Elizabeth perused him in utter silence as he did her. The livid scar upon his left cheek added a wildness to him that she found alluring. Sir Charles raked his hand through his short hair and looked around before addressing her.

"Are you all right now?"

His eyes narrowed, waiting for her response. At his side stood the vicar. She could not begin to explain what she had experienced to him or anyone and frowned, unsure what to say.

"I'm feeling much better now, Sir Charles. Please, it is of no concern."

"From now on, everything about you is my concern, dear. Pray, let us continue before the skies open." He hooked her arm with his to guide her into the church.

Stepping inside, the light scent of lavender, roses, and sage hung in the air from the several garlands hung along the short aisle. Elizabeth tried to shake off the extraordinary start to her wedding and took one slow step after another down the aisle, with Sir Charles leading the way. Rain now splashed against the stained-glass windows as the solemn service got underway, and the voice of the priest bounced off the walls of the small house of worship. But Elizabeth stood at the altar, unable to shake off the new awareness rippling through her or the whispers inside her head.

As she stared at the walls, a deep voice repeated the words of the vicar. Elizabeth closed her eyes to block out the ceremony and she drifted away. As her eyes shut, a gargled scream rent the air and she clasped her throat as it tightened once again. She jerked and struggled, unable to breathe or swallow. Flashes of a mob shouting and cursing at her blinked in and out of her mind. The crowd called for her death.

"Kill the witch. Let her hang."

"I'm not a witch," she shouted.

"Lady Elizabeth, are you quite well, child?" the vicar asked, and she stared at them with an open mouth realizing she had spoken out aloud. The voices stopped but she shook with fear, unable to form words.

Sir Charles clasped her hand, his touch ice-cold, and he squeezed her hand tight."What is it? You don't appear to be with us at all. What's this nonsense about a witch?"

She stared at him horrified he had heard her denounce being a witch. How could she explain any of this?

"Elizabeth."

The use of her first name sounded oddly soft upon his lips. It was the first time he had used it.

"Nothing it's naught but nerves, I assure you." She looked from him to the priest, who smiled and nodded.

"Let us continue then, as I do not think this is the place for a fit of the vapors."

Glad her explanation had been accepted, the ceremony continued. Elizabeth recited her vows, promising to honor and obey Sir Charles as he slipped the plain gold band on her finger. Lifting her head, she stared long and deep into the slate-gray eyes of the stranger who was now her husband and waited expectantly for something. But as the pensive Sir Charles stood at her side, he didn't so much as smile at her, and when his black sleeve brushed against her skin, she trembled with the cold.

No kiss followed or warm greeting. He simply gathered her hand and folded it into the crook of his arm to lead her silently up the steps. Her stomach plummeted as an impeding sensation of being led to the gallows assailed her, and she swallowed down an invisible lump to resist the impulse to run. But it was too late. Staring at the black ink as she scrawled her name, Lady Elizabeth Dempsey, a woman's voice whispered inside her head.

" _Be careful, lovey_."
Chapter 2

"Oh, milady, you look frozen half to death. Come through to stand by the fire. I've made a feast for you with all your favorites to enjoy before your journey. Congratulations on your marriage, Lady Elizabeth," Becky, the cook, said. She gave a short curtesy rather than a hug, her normal greeting, but Sir Charles's presence changed that.

Although the rain stopped, allowing them to walk to the house without getting wet, Elizabeth couldn't shift her sense of unease. Standing in the church grounds, as her heightened senses reacted to the environment, something unlocked deep inside her. Even now, muted whispers spoke inside her head, and she clutched her arms to stop herself from shaking.

"Thank you, Mrs. Havesham. I believe Lady Elizabeth is chilled from the fresh air of the short walk. A good fire and some food would be most welcome before we leave."

Becky gave a low, lopsided curtsy again, fumbling with her apron. They rarely entertained guests at Hawkswood, and her obvious discomfort was evident in her awkward manner.

"Very good, sir. I'll have Percy ready the carriage when you're ready and Lady Elizabeth's trunk is ready in the hall as you asked."

Elizabeth eyed her stiff husband, unaware that he had been at Hawkswood prior to the service to offer any instructions and wondered why she hadn't been involved in making them. "Must we leave so soon? I thought we might spend the night here. And leave at daybreak."

Her words spilled out before she had time to catch herself. Becky coughed, making her study the kind woman who welcomed her at the kitchen table and into her heart with all manner of tempting treats. Now, she shook her head, and Elizabeth pressed her lips together, but for naught. She lifted her head to glance at the man before her; his deep entrenched lines that curved around his mouth spread.

He bowed his head a little, sweeping his gaze over at her and back at Becky, who fumbled with her hands at her side.

"I'm afraid, my lady, as a high sheriff and MP, I have work that commands attention in London. We will be there for the next two months at my townhouse until my business is concluded. From there we will head for Tregowen, where I have arranged a party to celebrate our marriage."

She knew little about her new husband, but the idea of traveling to London sounded exciting, if a little daunting. She had never mixed with the haut ton and wondered how she would be accepted.

"I see—well, of course, we shall leave as soon as you wish, sir."

She could say more, such as why he had not thought it necessary to explain any of this to her beforehand. As mistress of Hawkswood for several years, she made most of the day-to-day decisions but being a married lady now would change that. Her husband would control everything. What would she do all day? She would need to discuss this matter with Sir Charles because she couldn't lay idle, and she believed her opinions held value. Elizabeth could not be silent. She had been raised to speak her mind by her father, and he said he admired her help and support. After enjoying the assortment of breads, toast, ham and eggs, they made their way to leave after thanking all the staff. She held back the tears, refusing to cry until later. As Sir Charles shook hands with each person, he gave them a silver coin and thanked them. A most considerate and kind act, she noted. As she placed a step on the coach, a shriek from behind prevented her from leaving.

"Lizzie, wait."

At the sound of Kitty's voice, she charged over to her dear friend. They hugged each other tight as light sobs burst forth from them both. She sniffed and whispered, "Look for my letter. I will write and let you know how I fare. Write back."

Kitty nodded and pressed a small bottle into her hand. It contained rose water.

She covered her lips with her shaky hands and nodded, clutching the bottle.

"Come now, we must be on our way for we have a long journey ahead," Sir Charles said.

Elizabeth nodded, and Kitty slipped away. The emptiness inside her heart grew bigger at her departure and she slid inside the waiting coach. The remaining staff waved as she said good-bye. Sir Charles sat opposite, and he tapped the roof of the carriage to instruct the driver to move on. As the horses drew the carriage away from the only home she had ever known, the sensation of being watched from the thick crop of distant trees sparked her out of her reverie. The damp, earthy scent greeted her on the breeze once more. She withdrew from the window to shut out the questions that hovered in her mind and stared at her husband as she shivered.

Sir Charles leaned over her and tucked in a woolen blanket Mabel had handed him.

"Thank you, for being so thoughtful, giving the servants the extra coin."

"Nonsense. Your father left provisions for them following your marriage and I am merely carrying out his request. Now, we have several hours before we reach the inn. I've arranged to spend the night there, so the horses can rest. I hope that will be to your liking?"

Elizabeth gripped the soft blanket, grateful for the tenderness he displayed toward her. "As you wish, Sir Charles."

A smile skittered across his face as he leaned forward, pressing a hand on her knee and her legs quivered under his touch as he studied her face.

"My dear child, call me Charles. You must address me by my given name, for we are now man and wife and as such, it is only fitting." As he spoke, his eyes held her.

She wasn't a child and it seemed odd he would use that term, especially with reference to their married status _. Does he see me as a child?_

"Of course, Si—Charles. It will take some getting used to, I fear."

"Of course, there are a great many things you will need to learn as mistress and lady of Tregowen, but I will help you, as will Enid. Now, rest, for it has been a long day already."

Elizabeth wanted to stay awake and study the landscape as they traveled but a heavy weariness brought on by this morning's nuptials and all that had taken place made it hard to keep her eyes open. She drifted asleep to dreams that morphed into vivid nightmares which made her cry out.

"No, please no."

A cold hand brushed her cheek and she stirred awake. Charles strolled away from the bed, looking tense. He had forgone his long coat and stood, smoking a cheroot. Glancing around the warm room, she realized he must have carried her from the coach and brought her right upstairs. She quickly sat up, feeling shy at the intimacy of sharing a room and watching him undress. As Charles continued to remove his waistcoat, she noted the large tub in the center of the room.

"I did not wish to disturb you, but you seemed to be having a bad dream. You were pleading for your life. Crying, that you were not a witch. This is the second time you mentioned a witch. What is plaguing you?"

Elizabeth shook her head, she had not wanted to share this with Charles, fearing what he may think. "Yesterday, at the church, I heard whispers like an echo from long ago. I don't know what to say other than, I felt, I had stepped into someone else's life from the past."

He didn't laugh or shout at her, instead he nodded quietly, examining her, "And this someone, is a witch?"

"Yes, a witch. She was hung. It was awful." She clutched her neck.

"Well now, my dear, I don't believe in ghosts or spirits, nor should you. Those who have committed crimes are rightly punished. Perhaps, you heard such a tale through the servants, and being your wedding day, being a nervous bride, the mind played tricks on you. Anyway, we are now married. I am your husband. Let's put this nonsense behind us my dear. There's nothing to be afraid of here. Now, I thought you might enjoy a soak before, well, before we retire for the night."

She gripped the sheets. This was her wedding night. A night to consummate their marriage. The warmth from the fire heated her cheeks as she ran her gaze over her husband. His shirt opened at the top of his chest to reveal smooth firm planes and she wondered what lay beneath the rest. She couldn't move, unsure what to do.

"Do you need me to assist you undressing?" He edged closer and she pressed her lips tight as her heart raced.

"If you could undo the top few buttons, I can manage thereafter. Thank you."

He did as she instructed. "There—I shall take my leave of you. I rather fancied a nightcap. I shan't be long."

Elizabeth hesitated long enough to allow him to exit the room and sighed in relief, for in truth, suddenly, the room seemed too small. Undressing before a stranger was not in the least bit comfortable, even if he was now her husband. _Did that make her still a child?_ Letting out a sigh, she quickly removed her clothes, and placed them in a neat pile on the chair. She studied the large wooden four-poster bed she would share with Charles upon his return and knew what she must do.

Searching around, she thanked the gods her reticule had been brought up with her. Reaching inside, she retrieved the bottle of rose water, and added a generous amount to the water before slipping in. Forgetting all the worries about the day, she let herself relax. Soaking in the sweet-smelling water, she ran her hands over her long limbs and thought about the man she had married. Despite his serious nature, at times, he appeared kind-hearted, even gentle like now, getting a bath ready.

The room glowed amber with the fire and the candlelight. She closed her eyes as a stirring began inside her veins. Little tickles grew and pulsed throughout, making her crave something. At odds with herself, and unsure what these sensations meant, she opened her eyes and gazed out the window, which framed a full moon.

Later, as she lay in bed awaiting her husband's return, she drifted away to another life. Her past called to her and harrowing scenes filled her mind, until a shift on the mattress and a slight prod woke her.

"Elizabeth, wake up. It's your husband." Charles lay on his side next to her with the sheet at his waist.

She stared in the muted candlelight, captivated by his rounded, muscled shoulders and broad, smooth chest as shadows flickered from the fire. Her heart galloped inside her ribs. "I'm sorry, I fell asleep, but my dreams are filled with such horror..."

"Ssh..." The heady, masculine smell of him mixed with the scent of brandy drew her to raise her hand to touch and explore him. He grabbed her hand and kissed the palm as he leaned over her. The weight of his large frame crushed her into the bed, but it wasn't a disturbing sensation. When he lifted his head and sealed her mouth with his lips, she accepted his gentle advances. This was the first time any man had kissed her in such an intimate fashion. As Charles nudged and coaxed her lips, she opened for him, breathless, and mimicked his actions, kissing him back, wanting to please him.

A moan escaped from him and he bit her lip. As she tasted the saltiness of blood, she opened her mouth to plead with him to slow down, but he thrust his tongue inside. The fullness of him touching and tasting every corner overwhelmed her. She pushed at him, but he grabbed her hands with one of his to hold her still and, with his legs, forced hers apart. She wriggled and tried to relax, but instead she stiffened as his hand covered her breast, massaging the rounded flesh. A moan escaped her mouth as he flicked her nipple, but when he squeezed it, she jerked with the pain. When his teeth pulled on the sensitive bud and bit down, she cried out.

As his hands roamed over her skin, she tried to give in to his claiming despite his roughness. He pulled at her hair and grabbed her throat, squeezing as she choked, gasping for air. Shock filled her as he positioned himself, ready to take her, pushing her legs farther apart. She pushed against his great weight to force him off, but he wouldn't budge. Charles lifted his hips, and his erection dipped at her entrance as he tightened his hold around her throat, cutting off her air supply and blurring her sight. As her vision failed, a clear image pressed into her mind: a woman swinging from a rope as she struggled to breathe. Thinking she would die if he continued, she thumped his chest several times with her fists and forced him away with a strength she never knew she had.

"Get off me."

Instantly, he released her neck. She gasped and grabbed the sheet to cover herself, scrambling off the bed and panting like a wild animal, staring at the door, ready to flee. Blood dripped from her lip and her throat ached as she clutched it with her hand. Tears stalled in her eyes. Charles glanced at her, but she pressed her shaky arm out in front to keep him away.

He shuffled to the edge of the bed to sit forward with his head dipped low. "Fear not, my lady. I will not touch you again tonight." With that, he got dressed and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

She slipped onto the floor, huddled in the sheets, crying. As promised, he did not seek her out during the night. In the morning, after a sleepless night, she devoured the warm bread and cold slab of meat the maid brought to her room.

She did not see Charles until he sat opposite her in the coach as they traveled through the countryside toward the great city of London. Gazing out the window at the green grass and sheep eating in the fields, she tried to put last night behind her, but her neck ached, and a red mark remained.

"Lady Elizabeth, pray listen to what I have to say. I beseech you."

At his most heartfelt-sounding voice, she met his gaze, and his hand reached out toward her. But without meaning to, she flinched, and he sat back, looking away.

"I admit we are strangers. We know little about each other, and had we more time, perhaps we could have been better acquainted, but I have been away fighting for our king and country, like your father. After the Battle of Waterloo, duty called me home to you to fulfill the promise I made to him to take care of you, but I returned a different man, and for that, I make no apologies." Charles rubbed the pink scar on his cheek and she could only imagine the horror he must have faced during the war. He sounded sincere, but he did not apologize for his actions. _Did he not understand how he had behaved?_

"Sir, I may not be able to begin to know what you experienced while fighting for our country, but I cannot accept your behavior last night was the action of a gentleman and my father assured me that you were. Was he wrong?"

Charles gave a quick smile and tilted his head to observe her straight on. He slid next to her and clutched her hand, which she accepted, although she stiffened at his touch. She wanted to relax because it would not help to be distant.

"No—Graham, your father, wasn't wrong. I'm sorry if I scared you. My behavior was inexcusable. Blame it in part for how your beauty affects me. I forget you are an untouched innocent. Unaware of the ways in which to please a man, and I'm a battle-worn soldier needing comfort. Forgive my impatience."

Taken aback by his comments, her cheeks flushed. _Was she in the wrong to react the way she did? Was his behavior normal?_ He had accepted her peculiar behavior yesterday after all. She wanted to make this marriage work, and she squeezed his hand. He leaned closer and his brandy-soaked scent invaded as he kissed her lips. The reminder of the previous night caused her to shove him away as her heart pounded in her chest, remembering his hand around her throat, and she sniffed.

Charles wiped his mouth and returned to his own seat across from her. "I'll give you time, Elizabeth. I will be busy in London with work commitments leaving you alone for most of our stay. Becoming a wife is a big adjustment, but I believe once you are with child, things will settle, and you will realize your rightful place."

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, lost for words, but hoped time would help the confusion that reigned inside her.

They continued the rest of the trip in silence.
Chapter 3

September 1815

Charles stood at the fireplace, lighting his cheroot and examining the two vastly different men who stood inside the office at his townhouse in London: Viscount of Warwick, his well-dressed, light-hearted close friend. The other, the Duke of Beaufort. The duke was undeniably the tallest of the three and a serious man of few words but who observed and listened to everything. Both were members of the Elusti, a secret organization designed to root out evil and punish those who would not conform or confess their guilt. Most of the members were from the upper ranks of the nobility who felt it their solemn duty to pass sentence over people who slipped through the overburdened courts. The interrogation and trial was often carried out in private when the prisoner's guilt was substantiated by torture to extract a confession.

As a high sheriff, it was his duty to oversee the courts, prisoners, and execute the sentences, but on many occasions the process was far too slow. The Elusti's way of serving out judgement was far quicker and swifter.

"Where is your good lady wife, Charles? You've been here a month, and every time I call, she is absent. Have you done away with her already?"

He stared hard at the viscount, whose notoriety with the ladies had given rise to his well-deserved reputation as a rake and bounder.

"Not yet," he smiled eyeing his friend, "I've hardly seen her myself. Business has occupied my stay here," he said flatly.

"By business, do you mean Elusti business or affairs of the heart?" Gabriel asked.

"Don't meddle Gabriel, of course it is counsel business, damn you," Charles shouted.

"Only there is gossip around the ton of your indiscretion with a certain Lady Rowena. Not that I'm one for idle gossip, but you might want to attend to such matters before your good lady wife discovers the truth of your whereabouts."

Charles examined his friend and glanced over at the Duke, who until now remained quiet.

"It matters naught to me my friend. I have always maintained a belief that a wife should be without question, a lady of virtue, but in order for a man to be satisfied, one might require a lady of the night. If you get my meaning, but discretion is the answer."

He sighed and his shoulders eased. A month had flown by, and after the failed attempt at consummating the marriage on their wedding night, he had not been in the right mind to venture near Elizabeth since. Once in London, his mistress had been relentless in her need of him, satisfying his lust. But he knew his duty and had been biding his time allowing his wife to adjust to the situation.

"Yes, well, women in general cause far more trouble than they are worth. But I am grateful for your advice, both of you. Elizabeth is a unique little thing. Right now, she is getting ready for dinner, and you know what ladies are like, fussing with their appearance until they are happy. Since we arrived in London, Elizabeth has been invaded by the ladies of the ton. She has been in demand and busy with all kinds of social engagements which fitted perfectly with my commitments but that will all change once we leave for Wales. But pray, where have you been, Gabriel? We did not see you at the Sherwood's ball this past Saturday. Warming some whore's bed, no doubt?"

Charles wanted to shift the attention from his private matters, not happy to be discussing his complicated affairs with anyone.

"Do not listen to all the gossip, Charles. I do not have to pay for a romantic liaison, and I do have affairs on my estate that require my attention from time to time." Gabriel brushed down his sleek golden waistcoat while studying the other man intensely.

"Of course, you are both invited to dine with us tonight and you will have the opportunity to meet my beautiful wife then."

"Alas, I am leaving right after our business here is concluded to meet with a certain lady friend I have neglected of late or I would take you up on the offer. Another time, perhaps," Gabriel responded. The viscount poured himself a drink and sipped on the expensive brandy.

"Surely, you will be at Tregowen for the hunting season?"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything. But I had thought you might wish for some privacy now you are married," Gabriel responded.

"That's preposterous. I have no wish for privacy after the horror of Napoleon and war. It is good to return to civilization. My door will always be open and my friends welcome, especially during the hunting season. It's part of my life, and that will not change because I have taken a wife. What about you, Raphael? Will you join us for dinner?" he asked.

"Yes, I would enjoy that very much. Your lady wife, I presume, is of a Protestant faith, Sir Charles?" the duke asked. The imposing man opened his snuffbox and pinched some of the contents with his fingers, sniffing it into his nose.

Charles sighed and rubbed his forehead, wondering back over Elizabeth tale of the witch, assessing the man before him, who was his senior in not simply years but rank. He knew him through his dealings as an MP and the courts. Being a duke, he was a powerful man with connections right up to the throne. Charles stepped to the decanter and poured the liquor into two tumblers, handing one over to the man.

"Yes, yes, of course. Elizabeth has been sheltered away in Gloucester since childhood. Untried. Untouched. An innocent of the ways of the world."

The duke, in his dark long coat and coiffed hair, raised his eyebrow. "Young ladies have such absurd notions these days about having the same rights as men. I find that sort of rebellious nature needs to be rectified immediately. Even the most innocent have evil thoughts and errant ways, you know."

Charles knocked his drink back and replaced his glass on the desk, glancing over the documents the men wished him to sign. Elizabeth possessed an outspoken nature at times.

"I believe a firm hand will smooth out any flights of fancy Elizabeth may harbor from her secluded, rather relaxed upbringing, and once she is with child, she will not have the time to ponder such deviant thoughts."

Gabriel laughed. "I have never had to resort to threats or violence to gain a female's cooperation."

Charles gave a short smile at his friend. "Neither have you a wife."

The duke lifted the paper, slid it across to him and pointed at the place where he needed to sign. "If you need more time to consider your allegiance to the Elusti, I can delay a day or two."

"No—that will not be necessary." He scrawled his name, agreeing to act as a spy to seek out those who were freed through the legal system, but otherwise were a grave cause for concern. Adding his signature opened many doors to him and included a hefty monetary recompense that would aid his personal agenda in pushing the growth of his beloved Wales.

"Well, gentleman, if that concludes our business, I shall be on my way and bid you both a good evening." Gabriel donned his long coat and collected his black wooden cane, headed out the door.

~~*~~

Elizabeth stood at Charles's side as he introduced her to the Duke of Beaufort and she curtsied. The man eyed her chest openly, making her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She wore a green and cream dress styled in the latest fashion as instructed by Charles himself to the seamstress. Yet, she felt uncomfortable exposing so much skin, with the low neckline and tighter corset. For all the silk and satin that covered her, she didn't feel relaxed and kept pulling at the front to cover herself.

Charles watched her and grabbed her hand to pull it down by her side, squeezing it tight.

She had thought her husband might be annoyed at his friend's obvious distraction, but instead, he seemed to encourage it.

"Raphael, you are seated next to Elizabeth. Would you accompany her through to the dining room?" Charles pushed her closer to the man whose green eyes never left hers, making her shiver. She had no choice when the man extended his arm but to accept, and she found herself sat next to him at dinner, observing everything she did. Polite conversation and laughter surrounded her from the guests, and she longed to get acquainted with the smiling man to her right. But every time she started to speak with him, the duke would place his hand on hers and tap it, commanding her undivided attention.

"I would be interested to know how you find London, madam. Is it to your taste or do you prefer the solitude of the country?" He sniffed.

Staring up at her husband, who kept a close eye on her as well, she hesitated over how to respond but as the duke outranked the other guest, she smiled at him and replied.

"I had not visited London until Charles brought me here, and it is quite different from Hawkswood. It contains far more people than I thought possible, but for all the riches I have seen at the balls, there is such poverty here the like of which I have never encountered. The air, I fear, is not pleasant, whereas back home in the country the air is fresh and clean. But the theatre is wonderful and the dancing—well, I confess, I enjoy that the most."

Once she started talking, she found herself getting carried away again and out of breath by the end, reaching for her glass of wine. She sipped the drink, but when the duke placed his hand on her knee and slid it up her thigh, she choked and spat the wine from her mouth. The red wine dribbled down her chin, between her breasts, and over the white tablecloth. Elizabeth shot up out of her seat, her cheeks in flames.

"Oh, God—I'm so sorry." She pressed a white napkin on the tablecloth, anxiously trying to blot the stain as the maid stood at her side.

"Elizabeth, sit down at once. The maid will see to it."

Distraught at the duke's behavior, she did not wish to sit next to the man, but as she had already created a scene and did not wish to draw further attention to herself, she returned to her seat. The rest of the evening passed without any more disruption. She smiled and nodded in the appropriate places, answering any question thrown at her but wanting the evening to end. Each time she glanced at Charles, his anger burned right through her. As the front door closed on the last guest, he spun around and twisted her arm as she yelped in discomfort.

"What the devil are you playing at? The duke is a most honored guest and he couldn't get a word in with you dominating his attention. You've imbibed too much wine, which is unbecoming in a lady, making you loose with your words. No wonder the duke refused to remain for a nightcap. You've embarrassed me beyond words, madam—you may retire for the night."

Elizabeth stood dumbstruck at his scolding and dismissive behavior. She wanted to argue the truth of the situation with the duke, but her husband's raised voice and one-sided view of things left her doubting her testimony mattered.

Two days later, they left London behind and Elizabeth hoped Tregowen would alter her husband's mood and prayed things would improve. Charles barely acknowledged her after the dinner party, and she did not know how to rectify the situation between them. The journey to Wales took several long days. They rested at inns along the way, but after depositing Elizabeth in their room, her husband would disappear, avoiding her company at every occasion. By the time they reached their destination, her nerves were fraught. The sun had set, and Elizabeth ached all over, having slept fitfully in the coach. But even in the inky darkness, the magnificent red brick mansion stood out, illuminated in soft amber light.

Sir Charles swapped sides, pressing into her and pointing out the window with a youthful eagerness she hadn't observed before.

"Tregowen House has been in my family for generations. We are one of the few estates in the entire land to have gas lights inside and out, although we are not fully functioning with them and still rely on candles in most rooms. But being a man of such influence in Wales, I insist on the best that money can provide. This is just one such extravagance. Inside, for example, you will see, in your room you have a copper tub lined with linen for comfort to bathe in. I believe very much in the value of cleanliness."

Elizabeth studied the man who smiled when he talked about his achievements, and she gazed at the palatial mansion that was easily three times the size of Hawkswood. She hadn't realized how impressive Charles's estate would be. The red brick was unique, eloquent and breathtaking. She had never seen anything quite like it. What she could see bathed in the glow was certainly substantial, with its huge windows, and fine gray stone edges, the architecture elegant and neat. The coach came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the steps leading to the main entrance. Standing outside in a line was an impressive army of servants.

"Goodness, there are so many staff. How will I ever get to know them all?"

Charles smiled broadly and clasped her hand. "As with everything, my good lady, all in good time. Come. I wish for you to meet Enid, my trusted housekeeper, and my right hand as far as Tregowen is concerned. She is the only person of importance as she will educate you about the day-to-day running which, as mistress, you will need to learn, for my business will oft take me away."

Pressing her lips tight, she accepted her husband's hand as she descended from the warmth of the coach into the brisk night air and listened as he introduced her to each member of staff. She doubted she would remember each name but in time she would. Each person politely curtsied and bowed formally, giving wishes of congratulations. The last person Charles introduced did not smile. Her pale, sullen features peered at her with a frozen expression that radiated no emotion at all. Elizabeth stretched her hand out to shake the housekeeper's, but the woman refused to accept it.

She slid her gaze at Charles instead and curtsied.

"Elizabeth, it is not necessary to shake Enid's hand. You are the mistress."

The last few days of silence and her tiredness finally caught up with her. She couldn't hold her words inside, and she snapped, even though she knew speaking out this way would cost her.

"I know—but as you said, Enid is important. I thought it would be a good start."

One of the servants gasped, and Enid instantly shot a gaze down the line, signaling the staff to leave.

"Your guests are inside, sir, and a dinner has been prepared for you and Lady Elizabeth in case you are hungry."

Sir Charles gave a curt nod. "Very good, Enid. I knew I could count on you, but I'm afraid Lady Elizabeth is exhausted from her journey and would prefer to eat in her room. See to it that a tray is brought up for her."

What he said wasn't the truth and she couldn't stand by and simply let him push her aside.

"Charles—I'm not too tired to meet your friends," she said, shocked that he would command such a thing on her first night here.

Her husband grabbed her wrist and she winced in front of the housekeeper, who glanced away. "That will be all, Enid," he called.

The housekeeper shot her a parting glance. "Very good, sir, and welcome home."

"Thank you. It is good to be back."

Once Enid entered the mansion, Elizabeth lifted her leg to take a step and tried to shake free of his tight grasp, but he held her firm and reeled her in against his chest.

"You would do well to remember where you are, my lady. Back in Hawkswood, your behavior may have gone unsupervised. But here—I am the master. My word is the law. Do not seek to defy or challenge me. I will not tolerate it. I am a patient man but push me too far and you may not like what you discover. Now, you will be shown to your room, and if you behave, you will be permitted to meet my guests on the morrow. Learn quickly, Elizabeth, or the consequences will be severe."

He released her, and she rubbed the tender skin at her wrist, panting at his hurtful treatment. As he strode away without a backward glance, she pondered the stars in the pitch-black sky, blinking away tears. _He's tired; he does not truly mean to scare me, surely_.

Making her way inside the golden light of the airy hallway stole her breath at the sheer opulence and grandeur of the rich interior that twinkled gold and red.

Dark wooden floors creaked under her feet as she tiptoed inside, gazing at her new surroundings painted ruby red. Rich tapestries adorned the walls. A mahogany fireplace dominated the room, with all manner of wild beasts carved in detail into the wood. A deer's head hung above as a trophy, but the idea of these delicate creatures being killed for sport unsettled her. Although Charles mentioned he enjoyed hunting, she prayed she wouldn't be expected to partake in that blood spilling.

To her left was a wide double door, from which raucous shouts and laughter spilled out. No doubt it was where her husband had receded to. Excluding her. Standing alone, she didn't know where to go or what to do, feeling adrift and alone. Elizabeth stepped toward the forbidden room, but a swish of skirts at her heel made her turn.

"Milady, you're to follow me. The housekeeper said she will send up your dinner shortly. I'm Abigail. I am to assist you." She curtsied.

Elizabeth studied the young woman not dissimilar to Kitty and wished more than anything her friend was here. Perhaps this young woman would be an ally, for she sorely needed one. Remembering Enid's quick glance at her, she did not believe the woman would be a friend, and she needed one desperately.

"Very good, Abigail. Lead the way."

With one last glance at the door as a roar of laughter boomed from inside, she strode away, following the maid up the wide staircase that twisted around to a landing on the second floor. Elizabeth wandered down the corridor, passing room after room. At the far corner, the maid opened a thick, heavy-set door and stood to let her enter. She stepped inside the airy room painted in a light-blue and cream with darker shades of blues in the bedding and chairs. The room was twice the size of hers back at Hawkswood, with tall ceilings and simple furnishings perhaps not as regal as downstairs but beyond anything she imagined.

Three large windows faced her, overlooking the front of the house as well as the gardens and parkland beyond. She couldn't wait to explore in daylight. Charles had informed her they had a well-stocked stable and that Arabian Spirit would be there to greet her. From now on, she would be careful to watch her words as she didn't want to give him any cause to refuse her greatest pleasure—riding. Thinking over what she learned about her husband, she knew there were fleeting moments in which he could be kind. But there was a cruel streak, which he demonstrated more readily than not. She did not care for that side of him in the least.

The maid stepped inside and pulled the floor-length velvet curtains together to close out the endless darkness and Elizabeth shivered. A welcoming fire sat in the hearth and a comfortable armchair beckoned as the maid stoked the flames to bring them to life. Sweeping her eyes around, she smiled at the navy and mahogany lady's chair positioned in front of a wooden table directly by the window. A perfect spot for writing her letters to Kitty. The room was pretty and inviting with the fire, but she swirled around.

"Where is Sir Charles's room?"

The maid dragged back the sheets from the large bed, keeping her eyes averted as she lifted Elizabeth's night rail from the trunk and placed it on the bed. "His room is in the far wing at the other end of the house, milady. Do you find the room to your liking?"

Elizabeth wondered why Charles would be so far away. _Wasn't it normal for a husband to have an adjoining room?_ She was certain it was, but as they had yet to consummate their marriage, she knew their situation was far from normal, and not what she had imagined However, the idea that he wouldn't be right next door pleased her perhaps more than it should.

"Yes, Abigail, the room is very much to my liking, thank you."

The maid smiled shyly at her and she smiled back. There was a creak from the door and it widened. A small tabby cat strolled in and wove its furry legs around Elizabeth's. Back at Hawkswood, all manner of animals would turn up and she kept them as pets. She bent and stroked the creature, lifting him into her arms, and he purred.

"I'm sorry, mistress. That cat has been hanging around for days. I'm not sure how he managed to get up here. Would you have me put him outside?"

Stroking the cat, she wandered over to the chair near the fire to sit down and let him curl on her lap. "No, he seems friendly enough, and he will keep me company until Sir Charles arrives."

The maid flushed, and Elizabeth wondered why.

"Sir Charles and his friends will be up all night until the early hours. His friends have traveled from all over the land."

"Yes, I know they're here to celebrate the wedding."

"No, milady—it's the hunting season. His friends will be here for the next two months. It has always been that way, mistress. Even the Prince of Wales has been a guest," Abigail said in a quick voice, unaware of the implications of her words.

Elizabeth forced a smile. Her maid didn't know what her husband had implied, but she wondered whether this was what his word meant. _Nothing. Did he lie about other things?_

"Are you all right, milady?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes—I'm fine. You said the housekeeper would bring up some food. Do you think you could chase it up? I find myself quite famished."

"Of course."

"Thank you, Abigail."

The maid stared at her for a moment. Silence stretched between them, as if she wanted to say something, but she turned on her heel and left. As soon as the door closed, her heart sank, but she refused to give in to her rising distress. The gray feline bobbed its head against her belly, and she stroked his silky fur.

"Well, you are a friendly soul. What name shall we give you?"

She examined the cat and glanced at the fire. "I know—Smokey." Lifting the skinny animal, she burrowed her face into his soft fur as he purred at her kind attention.
Chapter 4

October 1815

Elizabeth waited for Abigail to return with food, but as her eyes grew heavy, she undressed and climbed into bed. Smokey hopped on the sheets and settled down, curling into her side. Despite all the troubles of the day, she fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep, listening to the soft sounds of the cat purring as she wrapped her arms around him. Sir Charles did not appear in her chamber and when morning arrived, a wave of eagerness to explore the house and grounds drove her out of bed. Pushing the curtains aside, the clear, unbroken view stole her breath.

Miles of rich green lawns, bushes, and thick trees spread out before her and stretched as far as she could see. A light frost gave rise to a thin veil of mist that hovered through the gardens. Sitting at the rosewood demilune table, she wrote a brief letter to Kitty and sealed the note, ready to be delivered. The room was cold now as the fire had dwindled out from last night. She washed and dressed, rushing downstairs to venture outdoors. Unsure of where to go, she wandered through the grand red hall and stood outside the door to the room she had been forbidden to enter last night with her hand on the brass handle, wanting to know what lay beyond. She was about to twist the handle when the housekeeper's shrill voice stopped her.

"Lady Elizabeth, I had not been made aware that you were an early riser?"

Elizabeth froze. If she was to be happy at Tregowen, she needed to get along with the staff, and not give them a reason to besmirch her. Otherwise, life would be hell. But she also needed to show the housekeeper she was not afraid of her. She was the mistress, after all.

"It promises to be such a fine day that I couldn't wait to discover the beauty of my husband's home. I also came in search of something to eat as I fell asleep before I could eat last night." She didn't want to let the housekeeper know Abigail had not returned with any food, for she feared the girl would get in trouble.

"I see—I will have a word with Abigail and see that she brings a tray to your room."

"Please, do not bother. I rather fancy a walk right now. What time will Sir Charles and his guests break for their fast?"

The housekeeper hesitated, and Elizabeth moved away from the door to step closer to the woman.

"A buffet is usually served in the morning salon later, closer to noon. I can show you if you would care to follow me, your lady."

_Noon?_ That was hours away. She couldn't last without some nourishment before then.

"Yes, I would like to be shown around as I feel quite lost in this big house. I would also like to know the day-to-day routine of Tregowen. My husband said you're an expert with all matters pertaining to that."

Enid examined her and merely nodded. "Yes, well, I have been here for a great many years. Right this way then."

It may take some time, but she would learn all there was about the estate and how it was managed, and she would prove to Sir Charles she was not a child or someone to be ignored, that she could be useful. After some time touring around the various rooms on the main floor, she was shown the enormous kitchen and met the many staff who were all busy preparing a feast of huge proportions. The smell of fresh bread was impossible to resist. She snatched a roll off the table, broke small pieces off it and stuffed it into her mouth. One of the young servants giggled. A sharp look from Enid and the girl ran from the kitchen.

"And what of the room upstairs where my husband entertains?" Elizabeth asked the housekeeper.

"I'm afraid, Lady Elizabeth, that is the only room you're forbidden access to unless Sir Charles deems it. You have a splendid sitting room, the dining room, and an extensive library as well as all the other rooms to enjoy, but he expressed most categorically that room is to remain out of bounds. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find _your_ maid."

Elizabeth stood still, controlling her breathing as best she could. As mistress of Tregowen, surely she should have unlimited access, but that wasn't the truth of it. She was beholden entirely upon her husband's command. She smiled at the staff who continued plucking hairs from a pheasant and preparing vegetables. As she stepped toward the door to leave, another warm roll was placed in her hand.

"I'm Cora, the cook, mistress. She's a stickler for rules, that one." She nodded at where the housekeeper had been. "Your being here 'as got her in a right spin. That an' all the other guests coming and going. Tis always a busy time here. Here, take this." The friendly woman handed Elizabeth a warm muffin and she smiled at her.

"Thank you, Cora."

She left the kitchen by the back door, longing to run outside to get some air. As she stepped onto gray wide flagstones, she noted the multiple buildings, wooden carts filled with hay, and smoke that swirled from the smithy. There were several workmen busy, and they stared at her before bowing, and she smiled, running through the courtyard. Once through the tall black gates to the front of the house, she studied the acres of countryside. She loved being outdoors and close to nature. She surveyed the distant woodland and beyond, the land rose to a steep hill.

"Milady, sorry to disturb you. I'm John Garvey, one of the gardeners. There's a maze if you continue down the path to your right, which leads to a pretty rose garden. After that, there is a lake with several swans. It is pretty out there." The older man scratched his head as he nodded in the distance.

"It sounds lovely, thank you—John Garvey."

She held out her hand and he shook it. It may not be her husband's way, but it was hers, and she would learn each servant's name in time. Waving good-bye, she ran down the wide gravel path and through the wide brick archway that led to the intricate maze. Staring around at the ten-foot-tall, thick, green hedges shut her off from the rest of the world, and she laughed, carefree. Elizabeth swirled in a circle and glanced over her shoulder as she ran down the path, twisting right and left, guessing her way and not paying mind to her direction. She ran breathlessly until she stumbled full force and headlong into a solid wall of heat and muscle, which knocked her back to the uneven ground, dazed. Elizabeth sat, unable to move temporarily winded from the fall. She wanted to laugh for the first time in days, but when she saw the culprit responsible for her unladylike position, she gaped, stunned at the male specimen before her. Her heart fluttered wildly, and she couldn't think straight.

All she could do was stare at the most striking man she had ever seen. His charcoal-black eyes burned right through her and matched the color of his shoulder-length wild hair. His classical rugged features reminded her of a dangerous highwayman. Captivated, she watched as he wiped the back of his hand on dark breeches before he extended it toward her. Like a goose, she continued to gawp and panted to catch her breath, lost for words. _Who is he? Is he one of the guests?_ She didn't think he could be, judging by the manner of his worn clothes.

"Are you all right, madam? Did you hit your head, or do you enjoy the view from down there?" He smirked at her.

She stared at his square jaw, arrogant cheekbones, and lips that teased, upright at one end. His barbed comments registered, heating her cheeks further. Ignoring his hand, she pushed herself to stand and brushed down her now dirty dress.

"You should be more careful about where you are going, sir. I could have been injured and my dress is ruined."

Elizabeth studied the mud that stained the material, annoyed with her careless behavior more than his, but she wouldn't admit that to him. Returning to examine him, she caught the handsome man narrow his eyes and he arched a thick, dark brow as his smile faded.

"It was you, miss, who ran into me, not the other way around."

She couldn't believe the audacity of the man. No one spoke to her in such a familiar, uncivil way. "Well, even so—a gentleman would not have pointed that out. He would have taken it upon himself to ensure the lady was indeed all right."

The devil of a man rolled his sleeves up and reached forward. Shocked he might grab her, she retreated, and he smiled, pointing at her with his finger.

"I do believe you have a cobweb in your hair, madam. I was simply going to remove it for you, but if you like the creepy crawlers, I'll leave well enough alone. I hear they're meant to bring luck."

She gasped and darted at him, falling into his chest. "Oh, get it out—now please," she cried. Her heart thumped inside as she stood still, brushed up against him, examining his black leather waistcoat as he held her arms. The whisper of smoke and horses reached her, not an unpleasant smell. With her heart galloping along, she barely breathed as he picked through her hair and removed the cobweb. She hated spiders and didn't speak or move an inch, wanting to be certain the arachnoid did not crawl over her.

But, after wiping the cobweb on his breeches, he didn't step away. Instead, he lifted her right arm, bending and stretching it carefully. The minute his warm fingers roamed over her skin, a spark of exhilaration shot through her bloodstream, firing all her nerve endings and drawing her to him. For a moment, she stood bound to him until she managed to whisper, " _Do you feel that_?"

He arched a brow. " _Feel what_?" he said with a hoarse, dry voice, equally as quiet.

The sensation rippled through her, and she knew she shouldn't let him continue. Yet, she quivered under his hands with such longing she couldn't break the connection. Desire poured through her, and she couldn't resist the intangible pull he created, overriding every rational instinct. When his thumb stroked the sensitive flesh at her wrist, her heartbeat accelerated, and she leaned into him. Her very being throbbed in the most hypnotic and delightful way. She stared into the inky depths of his irises, mesmerized as he examined her closely.

"How did you get these?" He lifted her wrist.

Elizabeth shook her head to clear the spell he had created and studied the small purple bruises from Charles. Embarrassed, and unwilling to answer, she snatched her hand away. "I bruise easily, and I'm often clumsy."

Moments suspended as he stared hard at her. She wished he would leave, but instead he reached for her left arm. Realizing his intention, she hid it behind her back. The man whose name she still didn't know placed his hands on her shoulders, twisting her around. She yelped and struggled in his hold.

"Stop this. You're being ridiculous. Unhand me or I will report you to Sir Charles," she said. Of course, that was a lie as she would never tell a living soul about this meeting.

"As you wish, milady. But I was merely checking you over to make sure you were all right, like you said a gentleman would."

He swept his hand over his chest and bowed in a melodramatic way as she puffed out an indignant breath. Her cheeks refused to calm down, like her errant heart.

"From my examination, it doesn't appear that you have sustained any _new_ injuries after barging into me and falling. But I can't say for certain. Perhaps you should call for a doctor for a more thorough examination, one which should include your head. Your face is rather flushed, and you seem a little breathless. Or is that due to something else, perhaps?"

Elizabeth straightened herself, reaching his shoulders, and shoved his chest as he mocked her. The damnable man smirked at her, which should infuriate her further, but butterflies fanned her belly and she knew she was in deep trouble.

"I may well have hit my head—but you, sir, have no such excuse for your behavior. You need to learn some manners because it is obvious to me you have none," she replied. Wanting to be free of the bewildering man, she darted to the right, but he stepped in that direction also and they collided into each other again. She huffed and slid left, but he mimicked her movements. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and her heart thumped in her chest, stilling her.

"Angel, I really must get on. My boss won't be pleased if I'm late at the smithy to help. But if you want to continue this merry dance, meet me at the stables later."

He winked at her, and she opened her mouth to shout her outrage at what he suggested. _Who did he think he was?_ But instead, Elizabeth seized her chance of freedom and ran, not looking back. Roars of laughter rang out behind her, and she couldn't help but smile.

Damn the man.
Chapter 5

After running back to the house, she managed to avoid the staff and fled to the privacy of her room. Staring at herself in the gilt mirror, with her hair loose to below her shoulders and her cheeks flushed, the image resembled little of what the lady of Tregowen should look like. She pressed her hand to her cheek, ashamed of the shocking sensations the man caused just by the brush of his hand on her skin. She had seen Charles naked, and he had touched her intimately, but the experience left her afraid, not the dizzy tumult coursing through her now, which stirred her heart into a frenzy, leaving her giddy and breathless. A knock on her door brought her wandering mind back to the present.

"Come in."

Abigail, her maid, entered with a downcast face. "Milady, I am sorry I didn't bring the tray of food last night."

Elizabeth watched as the timid young girl kept her eyes fixed on the floor and she wondered why. She approached the maid and lifted her chin. Seeing the red eyes, she was certain she had been crying.

"Oh Abigail, it is nothing. I survived, but tell me—why did you not return?"

Elizabeth studied the maid as she slid her gaze to the side and sniffed as if not wanting to give a response. "I simply forgot, milady."

She shook her head, certain that was not the case, but there was nothing she could do other than to accept her word—for now. "I see. Abigail, if you are to be my maid, that means we will become friends. I hope in time you will be able to confide in me as such."

The maid didn't reply but she chewed her bottom lip, and with that, Elizabeth turned away.

"Ah, milady, your dress."

_Oh goodness, she had clean forgotten._ She grabbed her skirt, twisting around to face her maid, who looked at her, aghast. The last thing she wanted was for the housekeeper or for Charles to discover her brief interlude with the man in the maze.

"My venture in the garden led me down a rather muddy path, and as I am apt to do, I tripped and fell. I shall need a change of clothes, so I can join my husband and his guests while they break their fast."

"Of course, milady, and I shall wash this for you."

"I would be most grateful if you didn't mention this to the housekeeper."

"As you wish. One more thing, milady. Let me know when your menses are due as I can provide you with some cloths to aid you. It makes it more comfortable for you. My other mistress found them useful."

Elizabeth was a little taken aback by the girl's boldness, but her suggestion sounded preferable to staining her undergarments.

"I had my monthly flow over a week ago, but I will be sure to mention it when the time comes. Thank you, Abigail."

The maid curtseyed and left her alone.

After changing into a pretty rose-colored dress, she made her way once more downstairs to the morning salon. A nervous sensation rippled through her. She hadn't spoken to Charles since last night, and he hadn't joined her in the bedroom later. Now she wondered how she would find him this morning and whether her appearance would please or annoy him. She walked toward the room where voices rose from within, male and female. When the maid had mentioned his friends, she had not considered there would be women here. A smile spread across her face at the thought of making new friends, and she strode inside despite being nervous.

The sizable wood-paneled dining room overflowed with people. Some wandered around, helping themselves to steaming piles of food from large silver platters from the sideboard while others sat, chatting around the gleaming mahogany table. As she made her way through the sea of people, several men leered at her openly and heavily painted pretty women frowned. Even so, she smiled at each new face despite feeling shocked at her husband's outlandish friends, but they simply stared at her. Little by little, the conversations stopped, all save one. A man sat with his broad back to her, and his voice boomed above the now quiet chatter.

"Well, where is the green chit you have landed yourself with, eh, Charles? Keeping her hidden away from us? What say you? I understand, of course, what a right load of reprobates and whores you have gathered here, but, where is she? Or, did you wear the poor girl out with that damnable sexual appetite of yours? But of course, pardon my ignorance, that cannot be the case, for you have the lovely Lady Rowena at your side."

Elizabeth gasped at the man's innuendo and wished she had never set foot inside the room. _How could her husband entertain whores in their home?_ _And was the Lady Rowena one or, as the man stated, Charles's mistress?_ She stared wide-eyed at the women whose state of dress was little more than corsets and undergarments. Elizabeth could not leave the room even though she wished to. She must tread carefully and not say anything to displease Charles. The lightskirts looked at her up and down, equally shocked, but giggled moments later. She swirled around, watching one man openly fondle a woman who stared right at her. Others mostly ignored her, as if she were an interloper. Glancing from one face to another, a strong metallic scent of blood wafted over to her, distracting her assessment of the group.

"That's enough, Lord Mathern. My, oh my, you are but an innocent. A sweet, unusual innocent. Good morning, Lady Elizabeth. May I introduce myself? I'm the Viscount of Warwick. At your service." A pale, youthful gentleman with bright-blond hair to her right bowed low, catching her hand in his so quickly she didn't even see him reach for it. He promptly kissed her wrist, sniffing the flesh there while staring deep into her eyes as he held her. His brown as a nut eyes didn't blink, and the loud beat of her heart pounded in her ears as he spoke inside her mind.

_You are not like the others, are you, my dear_? _Neither am I—I'm far more dangerous_.

His silky voice purred, and she swore his side incisors elongated as he flicked his tongue over her wrist. Several chairs scraped against the wooden floor, and finally Charles joined her.

"Good Lord, Gabriel, release my wife at once. Elizabeth, come and sit next to me. There is a chair set at the table for you, my dear. Come along."

Elizabeth stared at the viscount, unable to slow her heart rate or disconnect her gaze. _What is he_?

I am not human. I am old, like yourself, my sweetness. I am a vampire.

Blinking, she broke the link to the peculiar man. She allowed Charles to lead her away from the mesmerizing eyes of the viscount, unsure what a vampire was. The light chatter carried on as if nothing had taken place. She watched the array of good-looking faces, attempting to discover who the Lady Rowena might be.

Ah, Lady Rowena sits directly opposite you, with her ample breasts practically spilling on the table. Very bad form. No lady at all.

Elizabeth slid her gaze to the viscount. He nodded and smiled. No one paid any mind; it was a private discussion between the two of them, although she did not respond. Chatter flowed around and she listened, all the while glancing over at the Lady Rowena and assessing her perfect doll-like features, comparing them to her own. Granted, the lady must be some years older, but her blue eyes were just like the sky on a perfect summer's day, and her hair the color of wheat in June. Perfect pink lips and a dainty mole next to them. Even her outfit of rich blue satin that matched her eyes was pure perfection, leaving Elizabeth feeling dowdy by comparison. But the vampire was correct; her large breasts were a feast for any man's eyes.

Charles tapped her hand. "My dear, are you quite refreshed from the journey here?"

Lady Rowena studied her and under the intense scrutiny her cheeks heated, rendering her uncomfortable. Surely, the words from Lord Mathern were said in jest. Unable to remove her gaze, she met the woman's eyes in a duel.

"I am feeling quite refreshed, sir," she said.

"Good—the country air does have that effect, does it not?"

She smiled at him, much preferring the country to the city any time.

"Sir Charles, you must introduce your lovely wife to the hunt. I bet she hasn't been initiated, being such an innocent." Lady Rowena smiled at her smugly.

Elizabeth examined Charles, waiting for his response, unwilling to oppose him and cause an upset. He searched her eyes and nodded, glancing around at his friends.

"Yes, absolutely," Lord Mathern shouted.

She dipped her head; she wanted no part of hurting any creature. The idea turned her stomach, but she couldn't let this woman, or her husband, know that.

"What a splendid idea. You will need to accompany us on the morrow and for the next couple of weeks to gain experience," Charles said.

"I tell you what—to make it more interesting, how about a little wager?" said Lord Mathern.

Roars filled the air and Elizabeth couldn't bear to listen as everyone shouted out their bids and stakes to see whether she would be able to make her first kill. She swallowed down her fear and stared out the window, wishing she could be anywhere but here.

Don't fret, sweetness. I will help you. It will be our secret.

Slanting her head back across the room, she watched as the viscount sipped his red wine and toasted her, unsure how the man could possibly assist her. And more importantly, she wondered whether she could trust the vampire—whatever that meant.
Chapter 6

For the next week, Elizabeth rode with the hunt each morning to observe how they stalked and killed their prey. She detested every part of it. She was certain Charles knew how she felt as each time he pushed the pistol in her hand to shoot at the birds she shook, not hitting the target. Even when he assisted her with the bow to hunt rabbits, her feeble attempts aggravated him. Today there would be no escape. Dressed in her smart riding habit, Elizabeth settled herself as much as she could on Arabian Spirit, who seemed equally unsettled. She stroked his black mane as the thirsty bloodhounds barked and yelped in the courtyard, waiting to be released.

The extensive stalls lay empty as all the horses were occupied by Sir Charles and his rowdy friends, each sitting astride and sipping their sherry as the staff wandered around collecting glasses. The several women who accompanied the male-dominated group all gathered around Lady Rowena, chatting and giggling. She had not spoken at any length to the women, who clung together like a pack of hounds. But as she glanced over, the lady at the center of the group brushed her hand over her chest and smiled right at her. The smile did not seem to be one of friendship, rather conceit.

"Pay them no mind, sweetness. They are bitches, the lot of them. I must say, it is rather poor taste of Charles to have the lightskirts and her presence at Tregowen right now, but I should know by now the man always does as he pleases," the Viscount of Warwick said.

"So what Lord Mathern said is true?"

"Does Sir Charles visit your chamber at night?" The vampire cocked his eyebrow, watching her closely.

Although she had been pleased her husband left her alone, she had questioned why. But each day after the hunt, she excused herself to the library, reading and searching for books that might help her discover what a vampire was, to no avail. At night, she was still forbidden to join the others in the secret room, and when she returned to her bedroom, she fell asleep.

"Oh, dear, I thought after hearing what that blithering idiot said you would have realized, but then again you really are innocent. I bet Charles hasn't even consummated the marriage yet, has he?"

Elizabeth looked away, mortified at the viscount's taunts, and shocked at the flagrant behavior of her husband. Of course, she knew many men took mistresses, but to have his installed under the same roof showed such blatant contempt for her feelings. She closed her eyes, unwilling to let the news affect her, but she was at a loss.

The viscount steered his horse nearer and clamped his hand over hers, stroking her palm. "How dangerous that is," he said quietly.

A coolness charged through her veins, creating an irresistible urge to confess everything to this man, and she raised her head to meet his unflinching stare. Seconds ticked by, and she blinked, unsure as to what had transpired. Her horse stamped his hooves and she snatched her hand from his. As she tightened her grip on the reins, she faced him and spoke quietly. "What did you do?"

The viscount leaned in close and whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Nothing yet, my little one, but you're irresistibly tempting. A word of advice: don't let them know you are hurt by their behavior. They don't care and take pleasure in causing pain. The war hardened Charles, making him ruthless, without mercy. Any softness he once possessed is lost, I'm afraid. You need to be strong, _mon ami_ , and take comfort where you can."

The clip-clopping of horse hooves made her realize that despite it seeming as if they were alone, they were surrounded by others, including her husband. Looking around, she wondered where Charles was and caught him in prime position, right in the center, with his closest friends gathered around, readying themselves as a dozen or more hounds growled and barked impatiently. _Did the viscount speak the truth?_ She knew little of her husband but worried his friend's remarks were correct.

Charles caught her observing him and noted the man to her left, steering his black stallion in their direction and looking every inch the master of all he surveyed. A grim line fixed across his face. The viscount, being a peer, outranked Sir Charles and he didn't move as the other man approached.

"I do believe, Gabriel, this is the second time I have caught you alone with my wife."

His horse snorted, and Elizabeth wondered if by chance her husband could be jealous of the viscount, perhaps because of his title, but also mayhap because he was engaged in conversation with her. _Could that be possible?_

"Well, such a rare pearl should not be alone or left idle. One could be forgiven for imagining she is available." With that, he walked his horse away to join the other men.

Charles watched as he left, and once he was out of earshot, snapped his head to look at her. "What encouragement have you given the viscount?"

Elizabeth gasped at the audacity of the man and pulled her horse to walk closer to Charles. "None, sir—may I remind you I am your wife, not some lightskirt."

"I do not need reminding, madam. Perhaps I have been remiss in my duties as a husband, and as such I will rectify that this very night."

"Perhaps I should remain behind and make myself ready for your return, sir?"

He narrowed his gaze at her. "Don't be ridiculous. I have much riding on your successful first kill, and initiation. You will not let me down. Do you hear me?" Her husband walked his magnificent steed away.

She didn't know what the initiation would involve. Every time she asked him, he stated she would find out soon enough. Bile rose in her throat at the thought, and she covered her mouth with her hand, forcing it back down. Lifting her head, she discovered the rugged man from the maze who sent her into a dizzying whirl observing her as he lifted the leg of one of the horses, checking the shoes. His dark eyes roamed over hers before talking to the older man at his side. She couldn't hear their conversation, but noticed as he shook his head, how today he wore his long hair tied back away from his chiseled face, highlighting his stubborn jaw with his indented chin. Leaning forward, she smoothed her hand over the horse and pressed close to his ear to whisper.

"Work with me today, and I'll have a nice apple for you when we return." She stroked the horse's neck and sat back in the sidesaddle, aware once again the workman observed her every movement. Elizabeth raised her head and returned the man's open regard. This time, he smiled, and heaven help her, but her belly warmed with a thrumming at his tender expression. Mortified at her response to his smile, she pulled the reins and directed her horse away in the opposite direction. Charles was conferring with another man as she approached, and she only heard the tail end of the conversation.

"My men have been out since dawn in the far pastures, scouting for deer. Are you ready, ladies and gentlemen? If so—let the hunt begin."

A shotgun fired. The men bellowed and roared as they trotted out of the courtyard on the heels of the eager dogs charging off in front for the open land. One by one, everyone left, and she trotted her horse to join Charles.

"You'll stay right next to me, Elizabeth, until it's your turn. I think it would be easier for you to use the bow and arrow," Charles announced, as if it were second nature to her to kill anything.

Elizabeth hated anything that inflicted pain, and she had never killed any living creature, nor did she wish to. The idea repulsed her.

Pressing her hand over his as they trotted out of the courtyard, she implored him, "Charles—I do not want to embarrass you in front of your friends. Please don't make me do this." But her plea fell on deaf ears.

"Madam, you will only embarrass me if you refuse or miss. Now we must join the others. It is all arranged. Come along."

Once out in the open land, Charles kicked his stallion and flicked his whip over the horse galloping over the grass. Elizabeth nudged her horse forward, digging her heels in his side. The creature stirred into action and flew over the dewy grass, charging over the fields and allowing Elizabeth to enjoy the ride despite dreading what was to come. The mist of the early morning gave way to an unexpected cloudless sky and bright sunshine. The hunt progressed, and the dogs cornered several foxes for various guests to hunt and kill. Each time, Elizabeth refused to watch the barbaric act, much to the dismay of her husband, whose impatience with her increased. He gripped her wrist tight, jerking her toward him. At this rate, she would have yet more bruises on her flesh.

"You will need to have your eyes wide open to kill your target. Now—I insist you observe, or by my word, I shall make you."

The whole world had gone mad, and she was surrounded by all manner of beasts, with no escape. The crazed dogs salivated and snapped ferociously. The men roared with each satisfied kill, becoming more incensed and out of control. In between the kills, the servants who were stationed at various points over the estate served wine and Charles handed a glass to her.

"Drink this—you are next. Do not let me down."

"But Charles—please."

He pressed the glass into her hand and reluctantly she drank the entire contents, handing back the empty glass. Instantly, a heat fired through her veins.

"If you don't do this, your begging will not help you, for I will show no mercy."

With that, he motioned his mount away. She sat there, a distant observer. An outsider. Arabian Spirit snorted, and she patted his side, wishing to escape.

The Viscount of Warwick trotted over on his exquisite chestnut gelding and the two horses nuzzled each other.

"The other day, you said you would help me. How?"

"Aw, you did hear me. How wonderful, Lady Elizabeth. I will agree to help you in exchange for a small favor."

Arabian Spirit shifted position and the viscount followed, leaning closer. "Do you know what a vampire is yet?"

"No—not yet, but I will."

"Do we have a deal?" He cocked his head and his nostrils flared.

She studied his pale, distinguished features and straight blond hair, which rested at his shoulders. He stood out from the crowd, especially with his alluring eyes, which were mesmerizing, and yet everyone accepted him. She blinked and shook herself free, needing clarity before she agreed to anything.

"What is the favor you require?" She was unsure what the viscount would want.

"Not here. I will explain later." He stroked her hand, drawing back her attention. "Do you agree?"

The master of the hunt called for order and announced they had corralled several deer at the far end of the estate. The men grunted their impatience for the hunt to continue. Right now, she didn't know how this vampire could help her, but she couldn't run away either, leaving her with no choice.

" _Yes_." Her heart stampeded as she agreed to God only knew what.

"Very good, Elizabeth. Very good." He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. Outraged at his familiarity, she snatched her hand away and stared around to see whether anyone had noticed the exchange. Fortunately, everyone was preoccupied elsewhere.

"You forget yourself, Viscount. I am a married lady."

His horse snorted, and he held her gaze, digging right into her soul as if seeking an answer he wished to find.

"A lady you may well be, but you are not claimed by anyone—yet. Besides, you have agreed to let me help you, which I think affords me the right to use your given name. You may call me Gabriel ." He gave her a curt nod and directed his horse away.

She pressed her lips tight, wondering what she had agreed to. As she stared after the vampire as he trotted away, Lady Rowena sidled her horse up next to her.

"It seems you have caught the viscount's interest. Be careful, dear. That is a dangerous game you play, for women are not permitted to conduct themselves in the same way men do. Unfair it may seem, but it is the way of the world right now."

Elizabeth felt shocked at her words. "I'm not playing any game."

The woman assessed her with cold eyes that seemed to delight in her discomfort. "I hear it is your turn next," Lady Rowena said.

"Yes, so I am told."

"You should feel honored that your husband included you in the hunt at all, being such a child."

If the woman was trying to needle her, she had hit a sore point. It was enough to have to tolerate this woman's presence without her needling her, too.

"And you, madam, are lucky to be here at all, but his need for you will end after tonight, I am sure." Elizabeth pulled away and joined her husband without looking back. She blamed the wine and her early interaction with the viscount for her sudden malice and boldness, but biting her lip, regretted letting the woman get under her skin, for she was certain that she had indeed made an enemy of Lady Rowena.

The hunt progressed, and they made their way over the crest of the hill and settled the horses with the servants as they headed into the forest on foot. Yet again servants gathered, ready with the wooden cart full of weapons. Charles grabbed her shaking hand and tugged her right in front.

Two large deer stared at her with their soft brown eyes wide. Several men stood nearby as dogs snapped savagely. Red blood dripped from the creatures, obviously terrified and dazed from the attack of the hounds as they stood there. Charles handed her the bow and arrow. He stood behind her, helping her to load the weapon as her hands trembled. She glanced at the viscount, who nodded. Her heart thumped loudly inside her ribs. She couldn't do this and blinked her eyes several times to prevent the tears from escaping.

"Keep your eyes open, damn it," Sir Charles bellowed in her ear.

Someone laughed behind her.

"Oh, I don't know. I say keep them closed, dearie. We can't let Charlie boy win all our money," Lord Mathern said.

Hold the bow and focus on the animal. Look into his eyes, Elizabeth. I'll make it swift. It will not hurt the creature at all. After my count of three, fire.

Hearing the vampire's words, she opened her eyes, but her hands continued to quiver. _I can't do this._

Sweetness, you will not kill the animal. I will. Now do as I say.

Elizabeth didn't understand how he would take the shot and destroy the deer instead of her without anyone noticing, but as she stared into the terrified creatures' eyes, she did as instructed and held the arrow tight against the string.

One, two, three...

She released her bow and it flew. She could've sworn it hit the tree, but the deer fell with a heavy thud to the ground with an arrow in its chest. Slowly she backed away, wanting to run, not wishing to be part of the hunt any longer as the crowd erupted with a chorus of loud yells and cheers. The dogs went wild, howling and barking at the deer. But Charles dragged her by her arm to stand in front of the animal, forcing her to look down. The splendid creature stared at her, lifeless, and the stench from the animal turned her stomach. She retched but covered her mouth to stop herself being sick. Her husband held her as he smeared the deer's blood across her cheeks and forehead as she wriggled in protest.

"Stay still or the blood will be all over your clothes."

Elizabeth went rigid, unable to speak, as the metallic scent of blood invaded her. _She had killed the deer._ Her knees shook, and she swayed as the world paled around her. Someone grabbed her waist to steady her. When she lifted her head, she saw the hazy outlines of the crowd cutting open the carcass of the deer and she screamed, unable to bear it any longer.

Charles hauled her away. "How dare you make such an embarrassing scene. These are my friends, and we have hunted together for years. It's a tradition. You are excused, madam. You may return to the house alone."

Elizabeth stared at her husband. He was a cold-hearted monster with no feelings for her whatsoever. One of the servants assisted her onto her horse, and she pulled the reins, turning away from the roars and frenzy behind her. Digging her heels in, she pushed the horse forward, galloping as fast as her mount would take her.

~~*~~

"Lady Elizabeth, let me assist you."

Raven lifted his head at the mention of Lady Elizabeth. He had met the sensual young woman only once, bumping into her in the maze, unaware at the time that she was the new mistress of Tregowen. She looked so young and carefree dressed in rather simple clothes, not like the other women at the house. Her instant reaction to him, which he was certain was one of attraction, brought out the devil in him. But as soon as he lay his hand upon her skin, he knew she was dangerous.

In that split second, the world and his place in it shifted. He knew she was the one who haunted his dreams. The one his mother warned him about. A yearning burned inside, calling to him. It defied all logic and reason, rendering him powerless. He was not alone in the feeling because she questioned him about it, but he refused to acknowledge the invisible connection, driving her away instead. He stabbed the hay with the fork and threw it over his shoulder, not wanting to face the woman who would cause his downfall. He needed to keep his distance, because just one look from her had him grinning like an idiot.

"Dear gawd. Milady, are you all right?"

Hearing Davey sounding alarmed made him drop the fork and charge out into the cobbled courtyard. Once there, he stared at the slim woman who sat upon Arabian Spirit as rigid as a tombstone, not speaking and staring far off into space. He charged over to her horse, his nostrils flaring at the scene. He had known before the hunt that she didn't want to take part. For the past week, the stable hands had commented on her unwillingness to handle any of the weapons or to kill any of the animals. This morning, he had watched her and when she left, he saw the look of fear etched on her pale face.

_What kind of man would make his wife do something she had no stomach for?_ Lady Elizabeth sat frozen, with streaks of blood over her cheeks and forehead. She had been initiated. She had made a kill. He studied her clothing; even the white collar of her shirt was stained in blood. Looking behind her, he searched to see whether anyone had accompanied her, but she was alone. _Damn it to hell._

"She won't answer me, Barnaby. I tried."

Hearing his alternative name shook him. No one here knew he was a Roma, nor did they need to. He worked as a temporary work hand and sometime blacksmith as the need arose.

"It's all right, lad. I'll take over now." He removed the reins from her hand and led the horse near the enclosure to the water. Once he had secured him, Raven came to stand in front of Elizabeth. The woman sat there, oblivious of his presence, and he grabbed her tiny, cold hand in his, rubbing some warmth into it. Her skin was soft like a rose petal, and a need to hold her tight grew. But that would be highly improper. Needing to help her despite the risk, he stroked her palm back and forth to gain her attention. There was no one around to witness this breach in behavior and the lad would say nothing.

"Will she be all right?"

Raven studied the boy and nodded. "She'll be right as rain and back to shouting out her orders before you know it."

"Abigail said she doesn't shout, nor does she seem mad like the master said. She said she is nice, not like the other ladies here."

Raven nodded, knowing the ladies the lad referred to were lightskirts, and as far removed from Lady Elizabeth as one could imagine. The woman herself blinked and stared down at him as if coming around. "Come on, milady, take my hand, and I'll help you down," he said.

When she leaned forward, he grabbed her around the waist with both hands and carried her weight until she stood on her feet. But she wobbled and, fearing she would fall, he lifted her under her legs and carried her in his arms. She barely weighed anything at all, and she trembled in his embrace. A wave of anger coursed through him, and he tightened his hold, allowing his body to warm and comfort her. The housekeeper and two maids appeared from the house, running over the courtyard.

"Let's get 'er inside and cleaned up. I have some hartshorn in the kitchen that will wake 'er up. Barnaby, we can manage from here."

"I don't think she can walk. I'll carry her. She's a lightweight. Where should I take her?"

The housekeeper studied him and the two skinny servants. "Quick then, you best take her to her room. She needs to get out of those clothes. There's blood on her riding jacket."

He felt Elizabeth tense and jerk as she wriggled in his arms.

"I'm...going...to be sick," she said, her voice weak and shaky.

Everyone stood back, and he let her slip down, but kept hold of her as she retched and vomited on the ground. He kept his arm around her waist as her legs buckled and he held her hair away from her face. The housekeeper handed him a cloth, which he used to wipe her mouth, and he lifted her gently back up into his arms. She rested back into him as he held her tight against his chest.

He slid his glance at the others. "Show me to her room now and not a word of this to anyone."

Raven had been working at Tregowen House on and off for the past twelve months. An invisible force had led him here. Fate, his mother called it. Remembering her tales and multiple warnings, he stared down at the elfin face now as white as fresh snow. Holding her in his arms, once again he acknowledged the blinding connection the minute he touched her, dissolving his instinct for his own survival and evoking a need to get closer. To protect her despite the cost to him. His heart beat and he felt hers thrum through him at the same steady pace against his chest, as if joined together as one.

"Her room, if you please, so I may leave her in your care."

Whatever this was, it would not serve either of them well. She was the mistress of Tregowen, and Sir Charles would kill him without a single thought. They were worlds apart. Following the housekeeper, he was reminded of their differences as he observed the wealth and opulence of the mansion with the luxurious furnishings and possessions that spoke of power, position, and riches. Striding up the twisting staircase, he noted the room the housekeeper hurried him toward and once inside, he strode over to the comfortable bed. He lay her down gently as the housekeeper studied him, frowning.

"You best leave now. We need to get her undressed and cleaned up."

Elizabeth stirred and as he let go, she grabbed his hand, blinking several times.

"Thank you."

He stared at her for a moment, not wanting to leave her side, aware of how small and defenseless she looked. _Damn it, she should not affect him this way._ He backed away, cursing under his breath.

"Abigail is going to help you undress and then you can rest, milady," the housekeeper said.

Raven stepped to the door, taking one last sweep around her room. For all the grandeur of the downstairs, Lady Elizabeth's room seemed bare in comparison and cold.

"I would get the maid to start a fire. The lady is chilled to the bone." Flashing his eyes back at her once more, he spun away and marched outside with the other maid close on his heels. He stared down at the young girl, who smiled up at him with her freckled cheeks and red hair peeking through her cap.

"They say the master hasn't visited 'er rooms since she arrived, been spending all his nights warming another's bed. It's not right. What did 'e marry 'er for? Tis shameful."

Glancing back at Elizabeth's door, he wondered the same thing. _Why did Sir Charles marry her, and then treat her with such contempt?_ But she was not his business to meddle in. She didn't belong to him. Working on the estate brought its own risks, and he didn't need any more reasons to draw attention to him.
Chapter 7

Elizabeth bolted upright, hearing the cries of a baby, which quickly transformed into urgent whooping coughs. Shivering in the dark and cold room, she wondered whose baby it was. She slipped out of bed, dressed in her thin night rail, and stood, listening. Yesterday, she had been initiated by Charles after killing a deer. She snapped her eyes shut, recalling the blood and the smell of the dead animal. A dizziness made her swoon. She grabbed the nearest chair as she remembered the horrors of the day and her reaction to it. _How had she ended back in her room?_ She didn't remember the ride back to Tregowen at all.

As she tried to recall what happened after the hunt, the baby's persistent cough played over and over. The infant sounded in distress and in need of help. She opened her door, creeping down the dark corridor, following the urgent cries. As she wandered and made her way downstairs, the sound echoed around her. With no idea as to the time, she continued, but when groans and moans escaped from the room she was forbidden to enter, she misplaced her footing and slipped. Elizabeth fell and tumbled down the remaining steps. Sprawled out on the floor, she jumped up as quickly as she could, not wanting to be discovered as the door lay ajar. Whispers came from inside.

She darted toward the kitchen and hid beside the tall potted plant, waiting to see who would appear from the room as footsteps sounded out. Charles stalked out from the room, tucking his shirt into his breeches, minus his stockings and shoes. If she needed proof of his infidelities, this was it. But what good would it do?

"Stay there. I'll go and check around," he said.

Whoever hid inside the room wasn't going to show their face. A need to know whether it was indeed the Lady Rowena made her slip out from her hiding spot. Once her husband moved out of sight, she tiptoed across the rugs and crept closer to the room. The door stood open, and a heavy perfume laced the air. Edging closer, she gripped the door, but arms locked around her waist and hoisted her off her feet. The door slammed shut.

"What the devil are you playing at, skulking around at this hour?"

The alcoholic fumes from Charles poured over her shoulder, roiling her stomach. She wriggled in his hold, but his hand clamped around her breast and squeezed, making her rigid.

"All your wriggling is whetting my appetite. You were asleep earlier when I came to check on you, but you're wide awake now, and I've a mind to taste what is mine."

Charles released his hold on her and twisted her around to face him, running his eyes up and down the length of her. A wicked smile played across his mouth and her heart stampeded in her chest at the thought he may take her right there against the door with his mistress in the other room. As he leaned in, he grabbed hold of her chin and shoved her back into the door, hurting her shoulder blades. He was her husband. Could she refuse him? His hand trailed down her throat, where he squeezed gently, and she panted. He continued his exploration downward, stroking her collarbone and dipping down to cup her breast through the thin material. She turned her head away, and he grabbed the sleeve of her night rail and tugged the material, until he ripped it to expose her breasts. She gasped as the cold air hit her nipples, hardening the tips.

She wanted to flee. This man terrified and scared her. _How could he do this when he had just been with another woman?_ But he lowered his head and wrapped his hot mouth around her nipple and sucked it inside, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. Elizabeth bucked against him, assailed by a landslide of whirling sensations. Her legs trembled, threatening to give way, and she tried to resist the effect his tongue had upon her as he licked and teased her, but she couldn't.

Perhaps, if she had sex with him, he would get rid of his mistress, and things between them would improve. Ignoring her reservations, she coiled her hands around his neck, drawing him closer. As if sensing her compliance, he released her breast and lifted her up by the waist, joining their bodies together.

"Wrap your legs around me," he instructed with a throaty groan.

She stared at the man who was inches from her lips. Before she could speak, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her hard. He thrust his tongue inside, forcing her acceptance of him. The taste of brandy filled her mouth and tentatively she flicked her tongue over his. Another groan rose from him and he tightened his hold of her. Elizabeth wrapped her legs around his waist, and his manhood hardened.

An impatient grunt came from the man and he shoved the material of her dress away, exposing her lower half to him. Charles unbuttoned his breeches, releasing his strained erection, and Elizabeth froze, staring down as he positioned himself, ready to take her. The smell of strong perfume rose from his shirt and a wave of disgust filled her.

"Let me go. Let me go." She thumped his chest and struggled to get down, but his hold around her waist held her fast.

"Stop wriggling. You're my wife—I'll have you right here. Right now. You will not refuse me."

Heaving and forcing herself to ignore what he was doing, she drifted away, but a baby's cry rang out, urging her to act. She shoved him hard and he stumbled back, allowing her to slip to the floor. She stared at him as he wobbled before he was able to regain his balance. When he did, he quickly adjusted his breeches and his cheek muscle flinched.

"See—there is a baby crying—that's what disturbed me. Do you not hear it?" She glanced around to discover the direction of the infant's noise, but the cries turned to loud, strident whoops.

"No, madam—I do not hear anything but the sound of your voice."

Elizabeth backed away as he approached her with a determined set on his face illustrating he wasn't interested in the cries, only in getting what he wanted. She continued to back away.

"You need to get back here and open your legs for me, so I can put a baby in your belly. Or there will be no heir. What good are you to me then?" He staggered toward her.

Shocked at his demand, she spun away and fled up the stairs.

"Run if you must. But you will comply mad or not, Elizabeth, if I have to tie you to the bed."

She ran as fast as she could to her room, terrified he would follow. Closing the door, she stood there, heaving a sigh as she listened for his footsteps. If Charles did come to her room, she would not be able to keep him out or stop him from forcing himself on her. Even though there was a lock to her door, she didn't have the key. Dropping to the floor, she sobbed. All he wanted, after her dowry, was an heir. She had known this marriage wasn't a love match but hoped there could be fondness.

But she could not find a single reason to like the man. She couldn't stomach his behavior. Elizabeth sat on the floor, resting her back against the door, and tried to keep her eyes open. But as time passed, she couldn't, and she fell asleep.
Chapter 8

Charles and his cohorts hunted for long hours of the days and cavorted until the early hours of the morning. For days, Elizabeth kept her distance, not wishing to be drawn into any more expeditions to hunt and content to be away from her husband's presence. She filled her time taking walks outside in the gardens, chatting with the kitchen staff, and reading in the library. At night, as she drifted asleep, disturbing scenes filled her mind. Two distinct women. Different faces. Different names and different times, both screaming and pleading for mercy. Each falling on deaf ears as a noose tightened around their necks, and they were hung. Feeling her throat constrict as it choked her, Elizabeth screamed and jerked awake, gasping for air.

She sat there, letting her eyes adjust to the murky darkness, and realized she had been dreaming. She sobbed and rubbed her head. These voices and nightmares wouldn't let go. Ever since the wedding, the voices and scenes disturbed her sleep. She sniffed, feeling miserable, and knew despair would set in if she didn't do something. Slowly, she scrambled to her feet, putting the last few days, Charles, and the dreams behind her. She walked over to the writing desk. Shoving the long curtains aside, she let the milky glow from the moonlight guide her and she wrote another letter to Kitty, longing for some good news.

A short while later, as the sun started to rise, Elizabeth left her chair and changed quickly into a casual long skirt and white blouse with her laced boots to head for the stables and Arabian Spirit. A good hard ride over the hills at dawn would make her feel energized and enable her to think about the problem she faced with Charles. _Should she confront him about Lady Rowena?_ Striding right to the stables, she wondered again about how she had returned from the hunt. The ride back and the whole evening was a mystery. She did recall, however, entering into a vague agreement with the shady viscount. Settling the saddle upon her horse, she twisted around, hearing someone approaching.

"Tis only me, milady."

She let out a long breath. "Davey?"

"Yes, milady. Are you feeling better?"

She stroked the horse and offered the apple she had taken from the kitchen, which he munched happily as she frowned. Letting go of him, she walked over to Davey and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't remember much about the other day—after the hunt. Could you tell me what happened?" The young lad peered at her with his large brown eyes and curly hair. "It's okay—I just need to know."

"You wer' in a rot mess. You 'ad blood on your face. I tried to talk to you, I did, but you didna answer. Barnaby helped, though. 'E carried you up to your room, 'e did."

She gasped. "Who is Barnaby?"

"'E works 'ere, milady, with the 'orses, and in the field when they need 'elp. 'E insisted. Nought that Abigail would 'ave been much 'elp."

"I see. Well, next time, point him out to me so that I can thank him."

The lad nodded, and she smiled.

"'Re you better now?"

"Yes, much better, thank you. A ride on Arabian Spirit always makes me feel better. Do you happen to have some old clothes I could borrow for next time?"

Again, the boy looked unsure and frowned at her. "I'll see wot I can do."

"Thank you, Davey."

A short while later, she galloped over the empty green pastures, enjoying the freedom and the wind as it caressed her skin, wanting to be as far away from Tregowen House as possible. She directed her horse away from the known hunting areas, not wishing to come across Charles and his friends. A huge part of her wanted to keep riding. Not one person back there cared one jot for her. In all her life, she realized, she had never been more alone or confused as to what to do. She yelled at the birds as they flew across the sky.

"You were wrong, Papa! Sir Charles is a beast, and certainly no gentleman."

Venting her rage shifted her mood somewhat, and she gazed around at the pretty fields and thick hedges where cattle and sheep grazed. The yellow sun lit the sky and warmed her face. Letting her eyes close, she soaked up the early morning rays of sunshine, allowing all her anger to settle. As she listened to the sounds of nature around her, she heard the whisper of the breeze, birds chirping, and the squeal of another creature she didn't recognize. But underneath all the noises, a pulse beat on the wind like a melody playing and calling to her like magic.

Unable to resist, she coaxed her horse to follow the sound, as if hypnotized by the music that drew her into the woods like a spell. Weaving her way through the tall trees, inhaling the fresh earthy scent, she smiled and enjoyed the peace of the secret haven filled with rich red, orange, and sandy ferns, bushes, and moss-covered trees. She ducked under branches and steered Arabian Spirit deeper into the shadowy woods; he snorted, shaking his head, and refused to go any farther. She pushed him forward, but he reared, launching her into the air and right into a pair of strong arms that caught her.

Her horse darted off, only to stop several feet away to munch on the grass. Elizabeth couldn't believe he had thrown her. Pressing her hands on warm, lean muscle created an instant thrumming deep inside her belly. A craving for more contact made her pulse race. An irresistible need to touch the rest of the man sizzled and fired through her veins. She knew before meeting his eyes whose arms held her. Lifting her head up, she gazed boldly into the inky depths of the mysterious man who reached deep inside in a way no one else did. She leaned into him, bringing her lips dangerously close to his.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"They call me Barnaby." He brushed the wisps of hair away from her face and wiped her cheek. For a heartbeat, they simply stared into each other's eyes, as if they held all the answers they were both seeking.

"You're not quite what I imagined." His hoarse voice revealed that in some way, she affected him much like he did her.

The stroke of his rough thumb across her cheekbone made her heartbeat roar inside her ears and she licked her lips, wanting more of his caresses. Still in his arms, she ran her hand up the outside of his rounded shoulder, mesmerized by his brutal strength and chiseled features, which stirred her heart as well as other parts of her anatomy.

His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened at her intimate caress. Instantly, he released her, and she dropped to the ground with a thud. Watching her as she stumbled, he grabbed her waist, but once he seemed satisfied she could stand alone, he backed away and cursed.

"You saved me. Arabian Spirit must have been spooked by something. He has never thrown me before. You have a knack for appearing in the most unusual places to save me. It was you who took care of me after the hunt. Was it not?"

The half-naked man turned his back on her and she couldn't read his face but heard him sigh. Without another word, he simply marched away. Shocked at his rudeness, she trudged after him, determined to get some answers. Like why he seemed to loathe her. What had she ever done to deserve his contempt? She hiked up her skirt and charged after him, tripping over fallen branches that were covered by the thick layers of leaves carpeting the ground of the wood. As she ran, the distance between trees narrowed. She glanced over her shoulder to gain her bearing and noticed the field behind her had vanished. The sound of trickling water called to her, and she spun around. There, through the reedy trees, water cascaded down over a rocky boulder, dropping into a wide pool below. Drawn to the sound, she stepped closer, unable to take her eyes off the secret paradise before her.

Searching around for Barnaby, her eyes rested on the center of the water where the rays of the sun radiated. Bursting through the flat surface, sending ripples waving out, appeared the majestic man himself. He threw his head back, swinging his hair. He ran his hands down over his chiseled face, affording her a pure, unadulterated view of his smooth chest with dark wisps of hair in all his glory. She couldn't help but examine every inch of his sun-kissed, flawless skin and toned muscles. Around his neck hung a long black cord, and on his upper arm lay a black swirling design. Unable to remove her gaze, the man reminded her of the Greek god Poseidon. She sucked in her lip as droplets of water fell from his lean muscles that tapered downward. Instinct drew her. Unable to resist the desire, she crept closer. But a branch snapped beneath her foot and Barnaby's gaze shot up to meet hers. She drew in a deep breath, mortified at her own actions.

"What are you doing here?" he shouted.

Her cheeks heated at the angry pitch of his voice, and she gasped as he strode purposefully through the water until his hips surfaced. But he stopped short of the shore, keeping the rest of his body hidden, and still, she didn't move.

"What are you staring at? Haven't you seen a naked man before?"

She slid her gaze away, but unable to keep it focused on anything but him for long, her eyes once again sought his and every impulse cried out to him. Instead of running away, which she knew she should, she inched nearer to the edge of the water.

"You have a lot of questions. Well, so do I. Like why did I hear music? Where did it come from? But mostly I want to know if it was you who helped me the other day."

He crossed his arms and frowned, raising his head up at the clear blue sky. Then he pinned his gaze on her, and she felt it run over every curve and line of her body, stirring her blood at his intense scrutiny.

"Come in the water and I'll tell you." He smirked.

She puffed out an indignant breath. He was toying with her. Surely, he didn't truly expect her to swim in there with him naked. Once, when she was younger, she had skinny-dipped with the children from the Hawkswood estate. But those days were long gone. Now she was a respectable married lady.

"I didn't think so. Now run off, little girl."

The minute she heard little girl, her stubborn and reckless nature surfaced. She wasn't a child, and it was just swimming. No one would know. Charles and his guests were all fast asleep. She stomped over to a large oak and hid behind it, removing her clothes to leave only her flimsy chemise and drawers underneath on. Without thinking of the consequences, she stared at the water, which glistened under the sun, and jumped in. Her arms splashed about, and she giggled before she dove head first underneath, enjoying the flow of cool water over her skin refreshing her. There was something about the feel of water as it washed over her skin, invigorating and stimulating her.

When arms grabbed and pulled her up through the surface, she struggled and spluttered, thumping Barnaby's chest hard. But when she studied his physique, she stilled and dangled in his arms. Bobbing just beneath the water was his fully aroused cock. She couldn't tear her eyes away, studying its size and shape. He cursed in an ancient tongue, and she raised her head to examine him, noting the hard outline of his jaw covered with at least a day's growth of dark stubble.

"What language is that you're speaking?"

"An old one." He snorted, and his thumb trailed over her chin before sweeping back and forth across her lips in a hypnotic way.

She closed her eyes as if in a trance and grabbed his arms to steady herself. Elizabeth pressed herself against his hard chest, and she heard his heart beat with hers.

"Do you have any idea what you are doing, Elizabeth?" He dislodged her grip and eased her away from him.

Shocked at her response and his rejection, she covered her mouth with a shaky hand for a moment while she assembled her thoughts.

"I don't know why I'm here—you wanted to know, but I can't explain it myself. One minute, I was riding Arabian Spirit, and the next, a hum on the breeze guided me to you." She shook her head and backed away. "When you charged off, I couldn't leave. I wanted to, but something pulled me to you. What is going on? Right now, I don't understand anything. My husband is not the man my father thought he was. He's vile and unfeeling, but then he didn't know how uncivilized I was or that I would dream of witches being hung or babies crying. I'm sure he thinks I'm mad, and maybe I am. But I'm not an animal like him and his friends. Charles and the others enjoy inflicting pain..." Her voice trailed off and she broke down.

Barnaby waded through the water and collected her in his arms, bathing her in his heat. He cupped her face to make her look at him. "Does he hurt you?"

Elizabeth studied his dark, soulful eyes that flared wide and felt the pulse deep inside her chest again, beat by beat. She pressed her palm flat over his heart.

"He's my husband...he's...I'm... What am I doing here?" This time, she pushed away, and he caught her hand, gripping the wrist to bring it to his mouth as if to lay a kiss on her skin.

But he arched an eyebrow and slid his gaze toward her, dropping her hand like hot coal. He stumbled back and waded away through the water.

Elizabeth followed him, staring at his powerful hairy legs and naked backside, enjoying the perfect view. She strode out of the water, her clothes soaking wet and hair drenched. Shivering, she returned behind the oak tree and peeled off her wet clothes, wringing the water out from them before dressing. The white shirt clung to her damp skin, outlining her breasts, and she needed to creep back into Tregowen without anyone catching her.

As she rounded the tree, determined to leave, Barnaby stood there, and he caught her wrists, bringing them up to his face and rubbing his hand over her flesh.

"Unhand me—a gentleman doesn't behave this way."

He growled. "Mistress—do I look like a gentleman to you?" His eyes feasted upon the valley that dipped between her breasts outlined in her damp shirt. She snapped her mouth closed and lowered her head as he smoothed the pad of his thumb over her delicate cheekbone.

"I was on hand to help you the other day, it's true. And chance allowed my presence today. That is all. But I am nothing like the men you know, Elizabeth. I'm a ghost. Do you understand? You must never return to these woods. No matter what calls to you. I do not live by your rules, nor will I. Now go."

When Elizabeth frowned but touched his hand, he snatched it away and shouted at her, "Go—before I change my mind!"
Chapter 9

Raven stormed back to his settlement deeper in the woods, hidden from Tregowen House. The sound of laughter and smoke greeted him. A crowd of young children raced toward him and followed his every movement, taking long strides and mimicking his walk as he passed all the painted caravans. People waved and called out his name. He gathered one of the small boys into his arms and threw him high up in the air, catching him as he dropped. Laughter and giggles broke out, with calls for more. An old woman dressed in a long navy woolen skirt and matching shirt with a rose-pink shawl approached.

"Away with you. Go on." She waved the children away and they ran off, laughing and throwing leaves at each other. He stared at his mother's deep worried lines that crossed her forehead and worn face. Their life was not an easy one. Throughout the years, the Romany travelers always lived in fear. Traveling across the ocean to find a land to settle in was not without its fair share of problems. Everywhere they ventured, they were disliked and distrusted by outsiders. They trusted few and kept themselves hidden from most folk who did not understand their ways.

Shaking his head, he climbed into his neat wagon and lifted out a bottle from his cabinet. He poured himself a full glass of rich wine, drinking it until the glass lay empty. His mother climbed up the steps and sat down in one of the armchairs, rubbing her crooked fingers.

"What's eating you, son?"

_That damn woman, that's what._ She should have run from him when he suggested getting in the water. _Why the hell didn't she_? There was a fire underneath the virtuous Lady Elizabeth, and she stirred his loins at every encounter. It was a visceral reaction for which he would pay dearly, he was certain. She was married to the powerful master of Tregowen. Dabbling with the lady or being discovered as a Roma—either one could lead to a noose around his neck. But when she waded into the cold water like an angel sent from heaven above, her chestnut hair flowing down her back, he couldn't resist her. Did she have any idea what a bewitching spectacle she made? As she played in the water like a nymph, he became captivated by her delightful performance. The need to reach out to make sure she was real, not some illusion, erased his common sense.

"Nothing—nothing I can't fix." He rubbed his eyes as if that would dispel the image still flickering inside his head of Elizabeth.

His mother was perceptive, and she saw things no one else did. Things no one should. She grabbed his hand and twisted his palm over, running her dry finger over the lines carved in his hand. "You've met her—haven't you?"

Snatching his hand away, he knew exactly who his mother was referring to, and he refused to answer or meet his mother's eyes. She saw things lingering in the depths of the irises, and he couldn't take it. Not today. For years, she had been warning him about a young woman who he would cross paths with. An outsider. A woman not of his clan who would steal him away. Everyone knew of her rantings, including his betrothed, Sabina. His mother said this outsider's destiny rested with his heart and soul. But she would also be the cause of his death and downfall.

"You need to leave her well alone, Raven. To alter your fate, you must avoid her. Do right by Sabina and marry her. She wants your bairns, and it's your duty to honor your clan. Marry Sabina, and—"

He twisted around and slammed his glass down. "She bears the mark. She's one of Ariana's lost children of the moon and..." He laughed, not in jest but at the irony. "She doesn't know it. She sees and hears things that scare her. It doesn't make sense and yet she found me— _she found me._ "

"But you do not need to act, my son. Stay away. She is a lady of wealth. Her husband wields unlimited power across these lands and beyond. It's not just your safety that's at risk, but the entire clan."

He hung his head in defeat and twisted away to lean against the side, staring out the window and watching his people. " _I know_."

Footsteps sounded behind him. "What do you know, lover?"

"He's met the outsider!"

Sabina traipsed over and stood behind him, touching his shoulder. "Is what your mother says true, Raven?"

He didn't budge and considered lying. But what good would that do? "Yes," he bit out coldly as he slid his glance to the sultry woman.

She swirled away, her skirts skimming the floor, and she stared back at him. "Well—I'm going to kill her. That will end this torment right now."

Knowing the kind of woman his Sabina was, he wouldn't put it past her and he charged over to her. "You'll leave Lady Elizabeth alone." He grabbed her arm and held it.

Sabina pressed against him and ran her hands up his chest as she leaned in close.

"We'll get married in the spring. Will that make you happy?" he said. She covered his lips with hers and kissed him urgently. Certain parts of his anatomy came to life and hardened. Raven wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. It was his duty to take a wife. He couldn't delay it forever. As a Roma, and a member of their clan, Sabina had been hand selected by his father and hers, long before they could walk. She would be a good wife, and she would bear his children. He broke away but lifted her chin to gain her attention and cooperation.

"But—leave Lady Elizabeth to me."
Chapter 10

Luckily, Arabian Spirit, despite throwing her, hadn't wandered far, and Elizabeth galloped back to Tregowen House, praying she had not been missed. She calculated she had been out for no more than an hour, which meant for most of the guests it would still be early. After leaving her horse with Davey, who said nothing of her disheveled appearance, she ran in through the busy kitchen, nodding at the staff who were preparing food for the day. Grabbing a fresh muffin from the table, she darted up the back stairs to avoid the main entrance, not wanting to run into anyone unexpectedly. Once she reached her bedroom, she closed the door and leaned against it, giving a sigh of relief. A sudden knock at her back made her jump.

"Sorry to disturb you, milady—it's Abigail."

Hearing the maid, she opened the door and stood back to let the young woman in.

"I saw you downstairs and I thought you might need some help. Do you, milady?"

Elizabeth studied the maid, not sure whether she could trust her or not, but she needed her assistance. "Yes, I do. I went for a quick ride this morning and these need drying, Abigail."

She handed the young woman her undergarments and the maid held them without saying another word.

"Please, don't say anything about this to anyone."

"Of course not, milady."

"Is anyone up yet?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, not yet. Would you like me to bring up some food and tea?"

Elizabeth yawned. "Later. Right now, I need some sleep. I didn't get much last night."

"Very good, milady. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

Abigail left the room, and Elizabeth was grateful she didn't ask any more questions. Undressing, she slipped naked under her cold sheets and from the corner of her room, Smokey appeared. She smiled when the cat jumped onto the bed and brushed himself along her belly. She picked him up and gathered him close to cuddle. When she closed her eyes, the cat purred in her arms.

Nightmares filled her mind. Screams and shouts from two different women, both hanging from a rope. She tossed and rolled until eventually another face consumed her: Barnaby. His dark as night, penetrating eyes invaded her thoughts. She imagined him kissing her in the water, running his hands over her breasts and setting her alight like wildfire. In the darkness, a quiver rippled through her blood, making her clench her thighs tight with unbearable need. As waves of desire consumed Elizabeth, she dipped her fingers to explore her sex, pressing her fingers in and out as she imagined Barnaby would. Breathless with the growing wave of sensations, she cried out her release and drifted into a deep, satisfied slumber.

Hours later, she awoke and stretched, feeling ready to face the day. Throwing the covers back, she dressed quickly. She decided to head for the library with the intention of continuing her search for information as to what a vampire was, but she didn't want to bump into Charles. Tentatively, she made her way, listening for any signs of life. The ground floor seemed quiet, and she jumped when Abigail appeared.

She pressed her hand over her chest. "Gosh, Abigail, you gave me a fright."

"I'm sorry, milady. I was on my way to your room to ask if you would like your tray brought up?"

"Ah, thank you. Could you bring it to me in the library instead? I have some work I need to attend to, and I will be in there for some time."

"Very good, milady. I shall go and light a fire for you to warm the room a little. Are you feeling better now?"

Elizabeth frowned, unsure as to Abigail's meaning. She had not been unwell. But when the maid inclined her head back, she lifted hers and saw Enid the housekeeper slip out from the shadows, headed for the kitchen. The severe woman barely glanced her way. Elizabeth sensed the maid's unease.

She didn't know whether the girl was helping her or not, but once the older woman passed earshot, Abigail pleaded, "I'm sorry, milady. They asked me to keep watch over you, and when you came in this morning, well, I made up a story. Sir Charles wanted me to wake you to join them for the hunt today. He said you needed to develop a stomach for it, and he didn't like you disappearing all the time."

Elizabeth covered her mouth at the thought.

"Tis all right. I told him you were sick. They've gone and won't return until later."

She almost cried in relief at the news. "Thank you, Abigail."

"He also wanted me to inform you that a week from Saturday, there's to be a celebration in your honor. He made it known you are to look your best."

Elizabeth didn't know what to say. Her husband surprised her when she least expected it. _But a party in her honor?_ Maybe this was his way of making amends for his behavior. Perhaps this would be a good chance to make things right between them, and a party could be just the opportunity to entice her husband away from his mistress. Abigail curtsied and left for the kitchen while she headed down the narrow corridor, staring at Charles's ancestors' painted portraits in gilt frames, each face severe and somber.

Stepping inside the extensive library, the whiff of smoke and old books lingered, and she sighed. She loved this room the best. There were books filling the entire room from floor to ceiling in well-polished mahogany bookcases. A sweeping staircase led to a second floor, where the shelves reached the high dome ceiling. In the far corner, there was a wooden ladder that allowed one to access the unreachable books on the top shelf, and another one on the second level. Light streamed through the large picture windows, where built-in padded seats were added, creating a perfect place to sit and get immersed in a book. Outside stood the small courtyard and beyond lay the rose garden. Elizabeth glanced at the multitude of old books, and she ran her fingers over the spines, noting the variety of titles. A knock sounded from the door, and she called out, "Come in."

Abigail entered with a small tray full of toast, fruit, and a bowl of warm oatmeal.

Elizabeth smiled and walked over to the small side table where she had placed the tray and lifted the bowl, tasting the contents, which she devoured with relish. "Thank you, Abigail. This is delicious."

The maid curtsied and walked over to the intricate marble fireplace to start a fire. Soon flames licked the wood, crackling and popping in the grate.

"Abigail, how long have you served Sir Charles?"

The young maid stood and brushed down her white apron, chewing on her bottom lip and looking unsure of what to say. "Um, my family have been in service all their lives, milady."

"I see." Elizabeth smiled at the maid and handed the girl her letters. "Would you see that these are delivered to my friend Kitty? She will be writing back soon, I am sure."

The maid nodded and left the room.

Elizabeth snatched a slice of toast, smearing some strawberry preserves over it, and wandered around, eyeing the book titles. Her hand rested on the spine of a book titled _Children's and Household Tales_ by the Grimm brothers. She would be happy to spend all her time right here. Papa had taught her to read at an early age and she devoured any books she could get her hands upon. A light, cool breeze at her neck stopped her from collecting the book and she swiveled around. Facing her stood the Viscount of Warwick and he leaned in to bite a piece of her toast.

"I thought everyone had gone on the hunt," Elizabeth stated as the vampire snatched the slice of bread from her hand and placed it on the bookshelf. Without answering her question, he grabbed her neck, bringing it toward his lips before she could resist him. His huge eyes glowed as he sniffed her skin and her heart raced.

"As you can see, Lady Elizabeth, I remained behind. I heard you weren't well, and I wanted to check on you... Lavender suits you, by the way." He fingered the top of her gown and stared at her lips. "God, you smell divine, like fresh roses."

She shoved at his rock-hard chest but couldn't budge him an inch. "Let me go, Gabriel—please."

The young man with his flawless complexion smiled and released her neck but caught hold of her arms, holding her prisoner.

She studied his purple brocade waistcoat and black breeches, lifting her head as he arched his brow in question and his playful mouth widened. His metallic scent tickled her throat like blood. _Why did he smell like that_?

"What are you?"

The vampire laughed and in the blink of an eye, stood across from her, picking up a book from the shelf and flicking idly through the pages. "I thought you would have discovered that by now, Elizabeth."

_How did he move so fast_?

She watched him and looked at the doors nearby that led to the garden, wanting to escape. The viscount slammed the book shut, returned it to the shelf, and once again stood at her side, cupping her cheek. This time, she leaned into his cool palm, spellbound by his alluring eyes, which bore deep into hers, making her sleepy. Her heart thumped as he tilted her head and stroked the column of her throat. She gasped when razor-sharp teeth brushed along her skin, raising goose bumps along her arms.

A scratching at the window from branches distracted her, and she caught sight of a man strolling past. _Barnaby_. Focusing all her energy on shoving the viscount away, she pushed and broke free, running as fast as she could out through the glass doors into the garden beyond. Elizabeth didn't look back. She charged ahead, desperate for her freedom, past the neat row of roses and trimmed hedges, twisting and turning until once more she found herself inside the maze.

Not caring, she ran until she heard footsteps on the gravel path. Barnaby stood there like the devil himself, dressed all in black. A need to rush into his arms invaded, but she held back, panting. When he stalked toward her, she stumbled and backed away.

"Be careful, milady. We don't want you falling again, now do we?"

He caught her elbow and, unable to resist, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms tight around his back. She closed her eyes, savoring the blissful torture of being in his arms and how right it felt. Surrounded by his strength, she felt safe and at home. There was no explanation for why she would feel this way and frowned, shocked at her reckless behavior around him.

Barnaby hugged her for a moment and he stroked her back as he whispered by her ear, "What's wrong? You can tell me."

Elizabeth shook her head. She longed to confide her fears, but she couldn't. He would think her crazy. And who was this man, anyway? One minute, he shouted at her, the next teasing, and now comforting her. She couldn't catch her breath; there were so many sides to the wild man of the woods. Lifting her head and feeling stronger, she shrugged out of his clasp. "I'm fine. Just taking a walk."

He snorted. "I see. And I have the fresh air to thank for you throwing yourself at me."

She studied him as he cocked his eyebrow, not believing a word she said. "I needed air; that is all. And I wanted to thank you for yesterday. I did not have the chance earlier. You were being..."

A memory of him breaking through the surface of the water like a god with his broad shoulders and taut chest assailed her. She swept her tongue over her lower lip, staring at his mouth.

"What am I to do with you?" He smirked, and she wanted to kick him.

_Why did his presence transform her into a mindless wanton?_ He had no right to speak to her in such a familiar way. He was a servant, not her equal.

"I need to leave. Excuse me, sir."

When she made to walk away, he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him.

"Back to Lady Elizabeth, all high and mighty. Good—you need to remind yourself of that the next time you're getting air. We are worlds apart, you and I. But before you run away, I need to discuss something with you, and we can't do it here. You'll need to meet me at twilight this evening. It's Samhain."

She shook her head. "What is Samhain?"

"It's an ancient celebration acknowledging the end of summer and the beginning of winter. We normally light fires to keep the dead spirits from harming us as it's also a time when the veils between the realms are easily crossed. My people believe the dead spirits roam the earth, seeking their kin at this time."

Still confused, she couldn't believe the audacity of the man. What he suggested was scandalous. There was no way she could slip out to meet him. They would be discovered. Before she answered, he lifted her left wrist close to his face and stroked the skin there. Instantly, she leaned closer and clamped her legs together as a coiling sensation crawled through her veins.

"Where did you get this mark?"

Needing distance from this overbearing man, she tugged her arm free and rubbed the crescent moon birthmark on her skin. "I was born with it, not that it is any of your business. Now, I need to go."

She stepped to brush past him, but he lifted his arm to stop her and when she swung to walk the other way, he placed his other arm there, caging her in, with little space between them.

"Let me go," she said quietly, taking short, sharp breaths as his heat invaded her.

"I can't do that until you listen. You're different, Elizabeth. Deep down you know that. The voices and dreams, they're all part of the magic awakening inside you. Most of your kind experience these things and more when they turn eight and ten. You need to meet Ariana, the Moon Goddess. She will help you. She'll explain who you are."

Elizabeth studied the stubborn man before her. _Why was he doing this? Was he playing with her?_ "Look—I was stupid earlier when I went into the water. I don't know what possessed me, but you're crazy if you think I will meet up with you. I don't need anyone to explain who I am. I know. I am mistress of Tregowen, Lady Elizabeth Dempsey, wife of Sir Charles Dempsey. You need to leave me alone," she said on a sob.

He snorted and pushed away. "Don't you think I know all of that? My name isn't Barnaby, it's Raven. I'm a Roma. My people hide in the shadows and we have lived in fear most of our lives, hunted like savages. Some people believe we are devils or witches. Innocent people have died for being a Roma or for even knowing our kind. I am not here lightly, Elizabeth."

He stroked her high cheekbone as she stared into his ebony eyes. "You're in danger. Your husband—he doesn't treat you the way a husband should. If he discovers who you really are, I'm not sure what he will do. All I know is that I cannot stand by. I don't want to be drawn to you but—"

"But you can't help it either. That's why you treat me the way you do. That's why you're rude and push me away." Elizabeth understood now and knew he spoke the truth because she felt the same, even though she knew the dangers.

Barnaby leaned his forehead against hers. "I need to share something with you. I'll not harm or lie to you, I promise. My people are travelers. We never stay in one place long. My clan are from Romania, but we've traveled all over, searching for a peaceful life. Everywhere we go, we have met your gifted kind and other preternatural creatures. You have magic in your veins, Elizabeth. We helped the others when no one else would because in many ways we are the same, both persecuted and hunted by people of accepted society. The Moon Goddess Ariana has helped my clan as a reward, but you need to meet her to understand. To be ready."

Elizabeth's heart wouldn't settle, even when he stepped away. What he was telling her was impossible. Magic. The stuff of fairy tales. It couldn't be true. "Why do I need to be ready?"

"Because once it's known what you are capable of, you will be a target for those who crave power. They will seek to hurt you."

She stumbled away at his admission but glanced back at him, knowing she needed to know for sure. "Why are you helping me? I mean, I know you have explained you help my kind. But why me? Why do I feel this"—she shook her head—"this irresistible compulsion for you? You need to explain that to me."

A brief smile skittered across his lips, and he retrieved something from inside his coat and handed it to her.

She stared at it and then at him, touching the smooth gold piece of jewelry and brushing her fingers over the twisted metal. "You made this—for me?"

He nodded, pressing it into her hand when she tried to give it back. "I fashioned it from a gold bracelet I had. I am a blacksmith by trade, and I wanted you to have this. The center opens like a locket. I designed the rest around it to resemble a flower—a rose." He unclicked the large center gem. "If you need to get word to me, pass a note to Davey. He will ensure I receive it. You can hide it inside. But make sure no one finds it. Now, meet me tonight. Ariana will walk the earth under the full moon, and I will answer all your questions. I promise. Meet me at the edge of the maze by the forest at twilight—please."

Elizabeth wanted to argue, but he twisted away and vanished without a trace, leaving her alone, staring at the pretty bracelet. She snapped it on her wrist, feeling it vibrate against her skin.
Chapter 11

Raven slid out of camp despite Sabina's long nails digging in his arms, pleading for him to stay even when he explained he had important work to do. They had been promised to each other since childhood, and yet that didn't stop her flirting with other men. As a young woman, she had used her charms with men, seducing them, and he had not stopped her. There was no jealousy for he, too, explored many a woman's curves. Both accepted one day they would have to honor the ways of their people and marry.

Waiting as the last rays of daylight gave way to the creatures of the night, he grew impatient, not wanting to be with Lady Elizabeth should they come across the spirits of the dead. The pale moon hung low, magnifying its size. His blood stirred, and he studied the approaching dark figure. Lady Elizabeth was like a fresh rose in sunlight, but when she lifted the dark cape off her face, the moonlight bathed her in a milky glow that affected him, making his breeches tight and uncomfortable. Her long cape gaped in the middle, allowing him to see the shadowy outlines of her dusky rose nipples through her chemise. When she caught his gaze, she wrapped the cloak tighter, but it did nothing to remove the arousing image, knowing she wore little underneath. The bushes rustled, and the trees creaked around him as the wind picked up its pace. An owl hooted, and he knew they needed to be quick.

"Milady, you're late," he said sharply, annoyed at the way she made him feel, and he eyed the fields in the distance.

"Sir, I came as soon as I could, but I needed my maid to believe I was sleeping. I fear she watches me under orders of my husband."

His gaze fell back on her and he observed her as she twisted her hands. _She's scared._ He looked over her shoulder, trailing the path she had taken to check that no one had followed her.

"Meeting this way is unavoidable. Best we make haste. There are too many risks as there is."

He trudged forward into the dense woodland. Twigs snapped underfoot and the cool breeze scattered the leaves in the air, but he hadn't taken two steps before he realized he stood alone. Turning around, he gazed at the delicate elfin face that captivated him from the very first moment he set eyes upon her. His heart lurched, wanting to hold her close to reassure her. Even though she shook with fear or with the cold, her sapphire eyes twinkled, and she tilted her head up in stubborn defiance. Despite her size, she was a fighter. The need to protect this petite woman assailed him, overriding every other instinct. She was the reason he stood here now. He held his flat palm out to her and beckoned with his finger.

"Come to me. You have nothing to fear. I will protect you—always."

He hadn't intended to say such heartfelt words, but he meant them. He knew he would risk his life to save hers, and the realization shocked him. Staring at her natural beauty, she stole his breath and his heart squeezed. Throughout the household, and from the staff, he had heard whispers she was still a virgin, untouched by Sir Charles, and he wondered why. Observing the master's mean streak, forcing Elizabeth to attend the hunt when she had no stomach for the killing sport, made him wonder what his plans for her were. Why did men of such power enjoy crushing the innocent?

"Lady Elizabeth, you can trust that I mean you no harm, but you must come with me now. There are many creatures of the night of which you are unaware of and discovering something as rare and precious as you would be far too tempting for them to resist."

A gasp escaped her mouth and she flicked her pink tongue outward, sweeping it across her full lips. Desire flooded him, and he groaned. The tips of her fingers touched his hand, shooting a bolt of fire right into his heart and stimulating him like nothing else did.

"Such as a _vampire_?"

Hearing that word upon her lips made him curse, and he flew to her side. "Tell me what you know about the vamps?" He shook her back and forth gently.

"Let me go."

Raven ignored her. Instead, he flicked her long curls to the side and stroked his thumb along the slim column of her throat. Satisfied, he pushed back her cloak and held her to examine every inch of her unblemished pale skin. Holding her stoked his desire as he feasted on her sensual curves and flat belly that flashed at him through the thin, tantalizing chemise. She struggled in his arms, but he couldn't stop staring in rapture, lost in desire and madness. He longed for just one sweet taste of her. Perhaps—he should steal her away right now. Escape into the night, just the two of them. She wasn't like other women, flashing her wealth around for all his teasing. But he stared up at the twinkling stars and let go.

"A vampire is a creature who feeds on mortals by sucking their blood. They're immortal, and they lure their unsuspecting prey by enchanting them. Most victims are left to die, but some survive with no memory of what took place, and there are a few they transform. Vampires are not to be trusted—ever. They only look after their own kind."

Raven noted her heightened color and she wrapped her arms round her cape, hiding herself from him. But his arousal didn't recede, and he spun away to cool his ardor.

"The Viscount of Warwick said he was a vampire. He helped me at the hunt in return for a favor. He has yet to claim it, and he wouldn't explain what he wanted."

Raven cursed. "Gabriel! You seem to attract danger, milady, wherever you go. Stay away from him, Elizabeth. He's not a friend. Now, we need to meet the others."

Elizabeth shivered but stepped forward and grabbed his extended hand. He led her through the misty woods, weaving through the tall evergreen trees and steering her around the bushes and ferns, dipping into the small valley below that led to a quiet area where the gray upright stones stood with the moon shining down upon them.

Elizabeth halted once voices carried over to them. "Take me back. Take me back right now—I don't want to meet them. I need to go back."

Raven wouldn't do that and right now, time wasn't on his side. He knew his touch affected her, because they were pieces of the same puzzle. At the water, and earlier, he knew, she wanted him. Desire beckoned to him in her eyes. Charging over to her, he hoisted her up into his arms and held her tight as he strode toward the stones. Staring down at her shocked face, he waited for an argument, but none came. He brushed his lips over the top of her head, wishing he could kiss her rosebud lips and taste her sweetness.

"You don't need to be afraid. I will not leave you. I'll be right by your side the entire time. Do you understand? We'll face this together."

Holding her in his arms, he felt her shudder against him and the need to kiss away her fears held him. She cupped his cheek and the warmth of her small hand filled him with awe.

"Who are you?"

"Someone you can trust."

Elizabeth nodded and the moment to kiss her was lost as the fair lady approached them. He let Elizabeth slide down over his hard muscles until she stood on the ground, facing the woman who stood before them.

"You're Ariana, the Moon Goddess?"

The woman with flaxen hair and the same eyes as Elizabeth extended her hand; the dainty lady accepted it without fear and walked away from him. He stood, not wanting to enter the stone circle but intending to hover nearby in case she needed him. But Ariana spun around.

"Raven, it's time you learned the truth. Come."

Confused and curious as to what she meant, he strode forward. She hadn't asked him to join any gathering before. The moon goddess led Elizabeth to stand within the circle where nine large rectangular slabs of stone stood erect. Inside, the rest of the world disappeared. Ariana glowed and what he had thought earlier was light from a fire was in fact the stones themselves. They shone a bright white light that surrounded them and kept them warm. Several others were gathered there; each person smiled and nodded at them.

"Welcome, my children. Tonight, the light shines to scare away all those who seek to do harm. I would like you to meet Raven and Elizabeth. They are both soul-shifters. But more importantly, they are soul-mates."

A chorus of welcomes sounded out, but it faded, as did the rest of Ariana's conversation. He clenched his fist with a blinding fury. Drinks were handed around and as he sipped the wine, he forced himself to calm down. He couldn't look at Elizabeth, although her sudden gasp at his side said she was as stunned and shocked as he was. But he doubted she truly even understood the implications of what the goddess had said. _How could Ariana keep this from him? How could his mother?_ He frowned, knowing she had second sight, knowing over the years how she had spouted about his lifeline and this woman's arrival causing his death. She must have known they were soul-mates.

Now, he slid his glance sideways to study Elizabeth as if for the first time. Ran his line of vision over her delicate features and wide, bright eyes. He knew she belonged with him. She was his other half, and as he lowered his head, he admitted, if only to himself, he'd felt it from the beginning. He placed his hands around his neck as he sniffed and gritted his teeth at their situation, shifting in his seat restlessly. His heart heaved painfully inside his chest as a rising need to gather her into his arms swamped him, but also the cold certainty that was the last thing he should do if he valued either of their lives.

"I don't understand. You left the heavens because you were lonely, and you were searching for your one true love. Why didn't that work? You're this magical being? What happened?"

Raven smirked, hearing the frank honesty in Elizabeth's voice. She didn't believe Ariana and he wasn't surprised. Neither had he in the beginning.

"I came down from the skies, breaking one of our most sacred laws, which is to leave mankind alone and not to interfere. I disobeyed. I was selfish. Even though I was certain my true love was here, it took many centuries to find him. In that time, I lived inside mortal women. You see me now as I truly am, but this is a fleeting image. I cannot survive in this realm like this. I need a mortal body. A host. Anyway, residing in a female body, I made love to many human men. I did not realize I would create you, my children. My relationships were fleeting, as was my time inhabiting each host. You see, I am governed by the moon and when it is full like now, the need to make love excludes everything else. This affects you all in the same way."

"We feel the need for sex at every full moon?" Elizabeth watched the moon goddess, and he couldn't take his eyes away from her, wondering what she was thinking.

"Yes—but it is much more powerful between soul-mates. Especially, if you're bonded," Ariana stated.

"What does it mean to be bonded?" Elizabeth asked and several of the men and women laughed.

Raven squeezed her hand and she stared at him with such fresh innocence.

"To be bonded to your soul-mate, you need to make love, but that's not all. There are steps to take to complete the mating ritual that will enhance your powers. It makes you stronger in every way. The craving for each other will increase and once the ritual is complete, you both become immortal."

Her chest rose and fell in quick succession. He recited the information he had heard over the years and rubbed his thumb over her palm. Elizabeth grew silent, deep in thought, but stared at him, chewing her bottom lip, which drove him crazy with need. If what Ariana said was true and they bonded, they could alter his mother's prediction.

"That's right. But let me start at the beginning," Ariana said. The slender woman wandered around stroking the face of each of them and inside his mind, he saw Ariana wander from place to place across the earth, making love under the full moon and moving on. He saw her story unfold and the children she left behind being born.

"I'm immortal and centuries passed before I found my true love, Javier. He was a simple fisherman, but the moment we met, it was as if no time had passed at all. He called out my name as if he had been waiting for me too. Everything I had done, I forgot in that moment, and I broke another law. I brought him to my home. The rest is ancient history. But I was punished and the man I loved was lost to me forever. The gods cursed me and my descendants from that day on. You are those descendants. You are half human and half god or goddess, each gifted with powers and destined to live your life over until you meet your one true love or die eternally."

"When you say gifts...a dead bird landed at my feet and when I touched it, it flew away..."

Ariana joined her side and lifted Elizabeth's hands to examine them. "You, my child, are the Witch. I have been waiting to meet you. You're one of the few who can heal, but you need to exercise caution. Every time you use your gift, your power weakens. These gifts are not to be used unwisely or without care, for there are those who will seek to use and harm you..."

The moon goddess walked around and spent time with each person in private. Raven wanted to leave; he had heard enough. This didn't make sense; he had never felt gifted. She was lying. He wasn't a soul-shifter, and if Ariana was lying about that part, maybe Elizabeth wasn't his mate.

Ariana walked over to Elizabeth and caught her hand, holding it as she studied the woman.

"Why am I called the Witch? I don't understand."

Ariana smiled and cupped Elizabeth's cheek. "I want you to meet the women from your past, and then you will see. The name, the Witch, will follow you through in each life, but they will explain."

Raven watched as the moon goddess worked her magic and the air crackled with energy. Blinding light shone as two figures materialized right in front of him, one his mother's age and one closer to Elizabeth's. He stared, unblinking, as the women smiled at them. They were the dead spirits brought back to life.

The older woman reached for Elizabeth's hand. "Come with me, lovey. We need to talk with you."

She glanced over at him, as if looking for reassurance, and he nodded. With that simple gesture, she drifted away. Ariana came to his side as he studied the spirits talking in the distance. The moon goddess touched his forehead with her hand and scenes filled his mind. Pictures came and went. _Elizabeth. A child. Another face with the same bright-blue eyes._

Ariana lifted his hand and pressed her fingers over his palm. "Raven, I cannot stop what is to come, nor can I share the future with you, but your destiny lies with your mate. I am forbidden to say anything more. My very presence here now goes against their rules, but I cannot sit idly by and not help in some small way. Look inside your heart. You know what I say is true."

He snatched his hand away and rubbed the palm. "But she belongs to another. How can she be mine?"

She sighed and gazed over at Elizabeth. "We do not choose who we fall in love with. Her heart is yours and her soul too. You need to look inside yours and accept what it is saying because there are those who will seek to destroy you both."

Staring at the wide-eyed Elizabeth, he nodded at the goddess. "I will do all I can to keep her safe. I promise."

Ariana called everyone together and she walked over to Elizabeth, lifting her hand. "I will see you again, and I will always try to help you as much as I am able. But I must leave now."

Elizabeth reached her hand to catch the lady, but the goddess and the spirits vanished, leaving no trace behind, and the others walked away.

"Take care of each other, you two."

"Bye," Elizabeth called out.

Raven walked next to her, rubbing the cross on his pendant, deep in thought, just wanting to make sure he delivered her back to the maze safely and then he would leave. But she turned around on him and held his shoulder.

"I spoke with the women I used to be. I met Gwen and Isabella. I also know why I hear the cries of a baby. I know Ariana speaks the truth, Raven. But there's so much more I need to understand. Like why I smell blood around Gabriel, even across the room? I also want to know what it means to be a soul-mate."

"What do you want to know?" he shouted.

"Well—she said _we_ are soul-mates. Is that why I feel drawn to you? Despite being married, it's you I want to run to and have hold me?"

His heart ached hearing her words because he wanted to kiss her right now and tell her how she occupied every corner of his mind. To let her know she filled the void inside him. But he daren't. He hoped he would forget this evening but feared he never would.

"It doesn't matter how you feel. Say nothing of what you've learned. Better still, forget it all, for it will not help you after all. I was wrong to bring you here. Go home to your husband, do you understand? He is a man of importance and influence. Be the wife he wants you to be and give him whatever he wants. He'll not hurt you then. Do you hear me?" He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him with her wide eyes that stared right through him. Getting any closer to her would bring untold danger to her, and he feared even one taste of her lips would never be enough. The only way he could protect her was to send her away, even if it destroyed him.
Chapter 12

The lead up to the ball was a whirl of organized chaos. Elizabeth did her best to forget Ariana's words, like Raven instructed. Charles hunted with his friends and she kept her distance, wandering around the huge mansion, lost. The voices and cries disappeared. The only dreams that kept her awake now were filled with Raven, and the Roma, and no matter how hard she resisted, she couldn't escape them. Each night, he visited her in dreams and aroused her, which left her a mess. She was in a heightened emotional state of want and constant need. But she refused to seek him out and kept indoors, remembering his parting words to be the wife Sir Charles wanted. Elizabeth swallowed down the invisible lump, unsure she could give her husband what she knew he desired from her. Did Raven know Charles kept his mistress at the house under the same roof as her? What did it matter? He was right. It was her duty to honor her vows, and she determined she would accept her fate.

All day, the staff worked hard cleaning every room. More servants worked in the grand ballroom, setting up tables at the side and polishing all the brass and crystal. They placed new candles in all the holders to ensure the room would be bright, well into the evening. The adjoining large dining room was also a hive of activity as the silverware was on display, being prepared for the feast that would be set up for all the guests. Elizabeth discussed the menu with the cook and wandered around from room to room to ensure things ran smoothly. But the household ran like a well-oiled machine with little help from her under Enid's control.

Now, she sat in front of her dressing table, staring in the oval mirror as Abigail combed and styled her hair into shiny ringlets that fell either side of her face.

"Milady, why don't you have some of the mulled wine? It will help settle your nerves."

_Was she that obvious?_ She smiled up at Abigail and accepted the wine glass from the maid, sipping the rich, spicy flavor. Perhaps the girl was right, and she drank the wine eagerly, enjoying the warmth that flowed through her veins, making her giddy and light-headed. When Abigail finished fixing her hair, she laughed at the sight of her flushed cheeks. The dress she wore was one of her most revealing and daring, in the same rich color as the wine. The bodice dipped in a sharp V rather than a curve and with the tight band under her breasts, it lifted and pushed them out, revealing more of her cleavage than ever before. When looking through all the gowns earlier, she couldn't make up her mind as to which one to wear. Abigail lifted the scarlet dress she didn't even realize she owned and said the color would bring out her eyes to their best advantage. Staring at her provocative image, she couldn't argue with the girl. She hardly recognized the young woman from a couple of months ago. Tonight, she looked like a siren.

"Do you think it is too much?"

The maid placed the pin in the back of her hair and walked around to stand in front of her. "Milady, you look like the mistress of Tregowen. Sir Charles will be proud to show off his wife tonight."

Elizabeth wandered back to her dressing table and open her drawer where she kept the bottle of rose water from Kitty and dabbed some all around.

"Here, milady, finish this."

She thought she had finished the wine but accepted the glass again and sipped slowly, not wanting to be foxed by the time she went downstairs.

"Thanks, Abigail. I think that is enough. I already feel as if the wine is affecting me."

The room seemed warmer and any butterflies from earlier were replaced with a carefree, relaxed sensation. She touched the diamond necklace she wore around her neck, which matched the earrings, a gift her husband bought her in London. Taking a deep breath, she headed for the door.

As she made her way downstairs, waiting for her at the bottom was Charles, looking attractive in his buff pants, black overcoat, gold brocade waistcoat, and white cravat. He tilted his head and extended his hand to her. His friends gathered around, and some faces she didn't know stared at her. There was no sign of Lady Rowena, and she wondered whether she had left. She accepted his hand, and he raised it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.

"You look ravishing, my dear. Come and let me introduce you to everyone."

She floated around, smiling at the sea of faces that nodded at her and when Charles left her with some of the new guests, chatting, she smiled. She glanced around the room and noticed that the Viscount of Warwick hovered around the ladies but kept his distance from her, which she was grateful for. She didn't know how to tackle what she had discovered about vampires yet. The orchestra started, and she was excited for the dancing to begin. Men had been lining up to fill her dance card since she arrived inside the ballroom. Charles reappeared at her side and handed her a glass of wine. Her husband rubbed her arm, and she smiled up at him. Her husband was most handsome and attentive with her tonight. Such a different man than she had experienced lately. She chatted with the guests and danced with each partner, whirling around the ballroom, high with the joy of dancing; even when she stepped on her partner's feet once or twice, no one seemed to mind.

Her heartbeat charged along as fast as the beat of the music and just as heady, carrying her away fast. Flashes of Ariana and her words of warning crept into her mind, along with Raven's face. She thought she saw him watching her through the large windows as she swirled around the dance floor, laughing. She danced with one partner after another and the hours ticked by. Slowly, one by one, the guests said their good-byes and left until there were only Charles's hunting friends dancing and chatting. Her husband wrapped his arm around her waist, catching her breath, and she shivered as the band played a waltz.

Charles held her against his chest and squeezed her tight. "How are you feeling, Elizabeth?"

At that moment, the sharp edges of the room blurred, and all the colors faded into a golden white. "I need some air."

"Okay—come with me."

Holding her around the waist, Elizabeth was glided away. But in seconds, she was hoisted up into the air and into her husband's arms as he carried her away. She closed her eyes but was aware of him walking fast.

"Is the room ready?"

"Yes, sir."

She heard the voices chattering around her but giggled and lifted her hand to smooth over Charles's face, feeling uninhibited and light-headed.

"How much did you give her?"

"Enough."

"Good job, Abigail."

A door opened—she heard it—and she blinked, trying to focus on her surroundings although a warm, fuzzy sensation flowed through her blood. She couldn't stand if she wanted to as her bones melted like hot liquid. A fire glowed somewhere in the room, but she was already hot, and she pulled at her dress, wanting to remove it.

"I don't think I will need the restraints after all."

"Do you want me to undress her, Sir Charles?"

"No—the rest I can manage alone."

The voices swam around and even though she heard them, she did not feel scared. Charles lay her on the soft bed and her heartbeat hammered in her ears. She licked her lips and twisted on her side, but her husband grabbed the top of her dress with his hands and ripped it until her breasts spilled out. The air touched her naked skin as she squirmed, and he grabbed her wrists, bringing her forward. He removed all her clothing as a slumberous sensation invaded. She lay exposed and naked before him, barely aware of what was taking place until he tweaked her nipple.

"I want you awake, Elizabeth. You will enjoy this."

Then he pushed her back and she flopped on the bed as he undressed, removing his shirt and breeches until he stood naked before her, holding his erection in his hand and massaging the length. Everything inside her grew hot as she stared at her husband. Charles grabbed her legs, drew her to the edge of the bed and leaned over her. A cold hand cupped her breast and rubbed her hard nipple. A warmth flooded her, and she couldn't stop the moan that came from her throat.

"Yes—that's it. Say you want this, Elizabeth."

_Give him what he wants_. Barnaby's face flashed in front of her as Charles climbed over her and pushed her legs wide apart with his. She tried to clench her legs closed, but his weight pinned her down and she couldn't muster the strength. When his erection nudged right at her sensitive folds, a quiver of anticipation started. His hands probed and explored everywhere, teasing and stimulating a response she couldn't control or fight. His hands worked her body. As he massaged her heaving breast, she bucked and pushed at his strong arms.

But when his hand slipped down and cupped her mound, she couldn't fight the onslaught of reactions that assaulted her. He toyed with her breast while with his other hand he slid a finger along her opening, rubbing the wet seam. She tilted her hips to escape the overpowering stimulation and tried to wriggle away, but he thrust a finger deep inside her warmth and her muscles clenched. He groaned at her neck. Feeling him inside, stroking, she gave in and her limbs softened. Lost in the game of seduction he was masterfully playing, she cried out when he shoved in another finger, thrusting it deep inside and stretching her.

"You're so wet and tight."

Charles kissed her mouth hard, stopping her from saying anything and he forced his tongue inside, taking possession. Elizabeth writhed under him and instead of pushing at his arms, dug her nails in. She opened her legs as he clutched her arms and in one powerful thrust pushed his cock deep inside, claiming her. There was a moment of pain, but he didn't slow down or stop. His grip tightened as he thrust and thrust, rocking back and forth inside her as he groaned. His pace increased, and he went wild, grabbing her breasts and squeezing each one until they hurt. Elizabeth couldn't move; he filled her, and she felt him everywhere as he ravaged her. Charles bit her nipple and she bucked under him as he rammed deeper inside. She pressed her hands on his arms to push him, but he bit her shoulder and she cried out. Time seemed endless and as the bed bounced and squeaked beneath her, she drifted away as her husband took his pleasure. Until one last thrust and Charles pulsed inside her as he shouted out his release.

Shadows crossed the walls and voices spoke around her. She was aware of being lifted forward and a cup was brought to her mouth.

"Drink this, milady. It is good for you."

Elizabeth complied because the girl was right. The liquid fired through her veins and a warmth floated throughout. She ran her hands over her breast, feeling the tingles shoot to her core.

"God, she's ready. Get out of here. You as well, Rowena."

"Why can't I stay? I like watching you fuck her."

"I said—get out."

"Okay, but try to be gentle. You don't want to kill her."

Wet kisses landed over her flesh and she gripped his arms as he stroked her wet entrance and played with her as he wished.

"You're such a wanton now, my lady. You've got a taste for it."

His hand forced her thigh apart and he slid between her legs, thrusting his erection through her folds, into her heat. Feeling him sink deep inside, she writhed and clawed at his back, but he rode her hard—pressing back and forth until he released himself inside her again. Moments later, he slid off, and kissed her cheek. "Sleep—but I'll be back. I want an heir in that belly."

Elizabeth blinked at the fuzzy outline of her husband as he left the bed and she touched her numb lips. She tried to focus and lift herself forward to stand, but a grogginess hit her hard and she slumped back against the pillow. After that, she had no awareness of time or day. The door opened and closed. The bed shifted, and Charles took possession. Groans and roars filled the room. In the end, every inch of her ached and stung in the never-ending darkness as she curled herself into a ball. At some point, someone pressed wet, cool cloths over her delicate skin between her legs and all over as she winced and moaned.

"I'm so sorry, milady. They made me do it—I hope you can forgive me."
Chapter 13

Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes, but the bright light from the right side of her room caused the throbbing inside her head to magnify and she waited until her eyes adjusted. Determined to get up, it took all the energy she could muster to push on her hands and sit up, naked. She slowly eased her way to the edge of the bed, wincing in discomfort. Every muscle inside and out ached. Flashes of the last few days and bits of conversations floated in. She remembered dancing and laughing. She remembered feeling carefree and she pressed her lips tight, stalling a sob.

How much did you give her?

She closed her eyes. She knew Charles had drugged her, wanting her complete submission, and she studied her arms where he had gripped, leaving multiple bruises. He had taken what he wanted, and she hadn't stopped him, nor had she a mind to at the time. A part of her, even drugged, wanted to give in to him. She wanted to be a dutiful wife; he was her husband, after all. Now it wasn't simply in name. He had taken her repeatedly, all with one purpose.

_Sleep—but I'll be back. I want an heir in that belly_.

Her head shook as tears fell. She recalled the voices she had heard: Abigail and Charles. Even Lady Rowena.

Why can't I stay? I like watching you fuck her.

Bile rose into her mouth and she dashed up, retrieving the bucket from under her bed, and vomited. Once her stomach lay empty, she wiped her mouth and stood up, walking barefoot to the long drapes, and peered outside. Clouds filled the sky and there was a light drizzle, but she longed for freedom from this room. If she didn't hurt so much, she would go for a ride, but even walking hurt. She ran her hands over her belly and gently over her sex. As she touched the sensitive skin, her hands warmed, and a heat flowed from her fingertips, easing the discomfort. Elizabeth smoothed her fingers over the bruises and every part that ached. Gradually, the bruises faded, and the pain receded.

Feeling stronger, she stared at the curves and planes of her slim frame. Pressing her hands over her flat belly, she prayed she was pregnant because the thought of allowing Charles to touch her again made her grab the dainty figurine on her dressing table and throw it at the wall, where it smashed into tiny pieces. As she stared at her crumpled bed, the walls of the room closed in, and she needed to get outside. She dressed quickly and fled downstairs but collided with Enid, recoiling as the woman studied her up and down with wide eyes. The tall housekeeper held her arm to stop her from falling, but she shrugged out of her clasp, not wanting to be touched by her or anyone.

"How are you, milady?"

Elizabeth frowned, unsure how to take this serious woman. It was obvious Abigail had betrayed her. Who else? She was the mistress of Tregowen but that held no power. Charles was the master, and the staff answered to him. There was no one here she could trust.

"Where is Abigail?"

"She left, milady."

"Left—where has she gone?"

"To London, with her mistress, the Lady Rowena."

She couldn't believe it. All the while, she had been led to believe that slip of a girl was her maid. She had been such a trusting fool. She clutched the wall, feeling faint.

"Are you all right? Shall I call for assistance?"

Ignoring the woman, she stepped away. But suddenly stopped and glanced back at the housekeeper. "Where is my husband?"

Enid looked at her and she could have sworn there was some measure of sympathy in her sharp face. "He's gone with them, milady. But—he said to let you know, he will return before Christmas to check on you."

A realization hit her as she recalled a conversation with Abigail about her monthly flow, and she covered her hand over her mouth. They had schemed and plotted, with the aim of trying to get her with child. _How monstrous they all were._ Not caring what anyone thought, she ran as fast as she could until she stood in the courtyard, scanning the area for Davey. She twisted her long curls into a loose knot and wandered over to the stables to check on her horse when the lad appeared, carrying some feed for the animals.

She picked up her skirt and raced over. "Davey, those clothes I asked you about. Do you have them?"

Knowing Charles had left Tregowen to be with his mistress in London made her glad. But knowing he would return to see whether she was pregnant made her furious. As his wife, it was her duty to bear his children. He had every right to take his fill of her when he so wished. _But what of love? What of tenderness? What of decency?_ How her father would turn in his grave at how badly he had misjudged the man.

"Yes, milady, I 'ave 'em 'ere."

She followed him inside the stables and he pulled out a pair of rough, dark pants and a cotton shirt. "Will these do?"

Grabbing the clothes, she nodded and dashed over to the barn to change. When she returned, she handed the boy a silver coin. "Take it."

Davey looked at the money and up at her. "Milady, I can't. Tis not right. I don' wan' anything from you."

She brushed the boy's dark, unruly mop of hair and placed the coin in his hand, heading away.

"Let me 'elp you, milady."

Sat astride Arabian Spirit, she galloped over the wide-open fields. The clouds broke apart and blue sky peeked in between. The early morning frost melted away, making the grass wet. The comforting scent filled her, and birds chirped in the trees nearby as she pushed her horse forward, enjoying nature in all its glory. But memories of Charles touching her broke through her daydreaming and she pulled Arabian Spirit to an abrupt halt. A low, screeching moan came from the edge of the woods and she trotted closer, listening, before descending her horse. There was no way she would enter any farther. The last person she wanted to run into was Raven. With everything that had transpired after the ball, seeing him would break her. She glanced around the bushes and ferns to determine the direction of the noise. Instinctively, she knew some creature lay in pain.

Stepping closer to the line of the trees, she lifted the large orange ferns that gathered around the base and lying, there on his side, was a red fox with blood coating its fur. The animal opened its mouth, showing its pointed teeth.

"Don't touch it. It might bite you."

Sliding her glance to her left, she studied the Viscount of Warwick, whose sudden appearance out of nowhere proved typical of the vampire. He jumped down from his horse, which he tethered to the tree. As always, his bright-blond hair rested neatly at his shoulders, and his pale perfection studied her. He crouched down next to her, and she inched away, reaching for the animal that she trusted more than anyone or anything else right now not to harm her. She gathered the small fox into her arms and kneeled on the grass, stroking his fur. The cry the animal made stopped, and he lifted his pointed face to study her. The fox's bright amber eyes flicked open and closed as she ran her hand across his injured back leg, back and forth.

"I can put him out of his misery, if you like? There's nothing you can do."

Ignoring the vampire, she massaged the fox's leg and held him tight in her arms, letting the heat from her palm and fingers heal the injured animal. Like earlier with her own bruises, her ministrations healed the creature's injuries. When the wound closed and vanished, she released her hold. The animal jumped out of her arms and scurried away through the bushes.

" _You're a healer,_ " the vampire whispered.

Elizabeth stood but the world whirled around her at a crazy pace and she fainted. When she awoke moments later, she lay sprawled flat on the grass. Shouts and growls echoed around her. Sitting, she saw Raven shove the vampire far away, and she blinked as two large gray wolves prowled around him.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Raven shouted, gripping the vampire by his cravat.

"Calm down—I did nothing to your fair lady. In fact, I've been keeping an eye on her. She's had a beastly time of it lately, and I took it upon myself to watch over her."

"What do you mean?" Raven shook the vampire and yelled.

Elizabeth marveled at the Roma's strength. She had never seen him as untethered and wild as he looked right now.

"Sir Charles exercised his marital rights and claimed what was his. It was quite the performance, I must say."

Raven slid his head toward her and she buried her face in her hands, unable to meet his gaze. Elizabeth held in the sob threatening to rupture from her throat. Even the viscount knew of Charles's behavior. _Had he allowed his friends to watch him consummate the marriage?_ She shuddered, appalled by this man's admission, and she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and rocking back and forth.

"This is your last warning, Gabriel. The wolves are here because of you, and if you don't leave and forget about Lady Elizabeth, they will hunt you down."

The vampire didn't answer but when Elizabeth peeked up, the viscount had vanished, along with the wolves. Raven strode over to her, but she buried her head in her lap, not wanting to face him. When his hand stroked her long hair from the root to tip over and over, something broke inside her. She didn't want to want him, but he reached inside, cracking her resolve. He sat next to her and hoisted her off the ground in one easy sweep, placing her on his lap. His warmth surrounded her, and she nestled against his chest as he wrapped his arms around, securing her. The tears she held back flooded, and she sobbed into his shirt. She stayed like that for ages, not moving or saying anything, unwilling to break the moment, happy in his embrace.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

Elizabeth didn't want to talk but as his thumb stroked her cheek, the words stumbled out and once she started, she couldn't stop. She relayed every detail of the party and Charles's actions after. With each fact she revealed, she felt his muscles tense and he withdrew from her. His hand dropped away from her face and he lifted her off his lap, jumping up to stride away. She watched as he leaned his hand on the tree with his back facing her as he yelled out loud, shifting the birds from their perch as they flew away. Empty of tears, anger took root—aimed at him.

"I did what you said. I gave Charles everything."

Raven pushed away and staggered from the tree before running into the woods without saying another word.
Chapter 14

Raven stormed back into camp, refusing to talk to anyone who crossed his path, fearing he would throttle them with his bare hands. A war raged inside him, and right now he didn't know how to control it. As Elizabeth sat quietly retelling him how she had been drugged by her maid, Sir Charles, and his mistress, a need to tear the man apart swamped him. What stopped him was the knowledge that he was also culpable. Even though she was Sir Charles's wife, his instincts called for him to act.

Sabina shouted his name as he passed her by, but he was in no mood to talk to her. He entered his wagon, pacing back and forth. He poured himself a drink, feeling helpless. He needed the alcohol to dull his senses. To numb the pain. Knocking back the liquid, he slammed the glass down and smashed it. Staring at the tiny jagged pieces, all he could picture was the beautiful Elizabeth in bed with Sir Charles. Jealousy—something he never experienced—roared and he swiped his hand along the dresser, knocking everything in its path to the floor, smashing it. The man had taken what was his without any thought, tenderness, or love.

"Raven—what's going on?" Sabina asked.

He swiped his mouth, beside himself, unable to look at the woman who was to be his bride. He knew, deep down, he should break the arrangement their parents had made, but he was a coward.

"I can't explain, not now—I just need some space. I'll be fine." He drove his hands through his hair, needing to let go of the images of Charles stripping off Elizabeth's dress that flashed through his mind.

"I can make you forget whatever's bothering you."

Sabina leaned into his back, running her arms up his chest as she pressed into him, leaving him with no doubt as to how she planned to do that. Sex had always been good between them. Maybe that's what he needed right now to help him erase any thoughts of innocent beauty who consumed him even now. Pushing away his thoughts, he dragged the sexy woman around to face him. She landed wet, hot kisses on his neck, looking up at him with her smoldering eyes highlighted with black kohl.

Staring down at Sabina, he lifted her chin and covered her mouth with his, laying hard kisses there and closing his eyes. He dragged her bottom into his hard frame as she moaned but an elfin face with bright-blue eyes flashed inside his head. And as much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn't. Raven eased Sabina away and wiped his mouth, cursing as he walked to the entrance, staring at the camp. "I'm sorry."

She sauntered over to his side. "It's okay—you're tired."

Raven pushed away, not answering her as two men strolled into camp. He strode over to greet them with big, arm-slapping hugs. "It's good that you were able to join us, Andreas, Cosmo. Did the vampire leave as instructed?"

The two bulky men smiled and slapped each other's shoulders.

"After a little encouragement," Andreas answered.

"But we chased him over the border. He knows we have his scent now and that he won't get another chance. If we find him on this land again, we will tear him limb from limb. The Viscount of Warwick will not bother the Lady Elizabeth again."

Raven crossed his arms and nodded. As soon as Elizabeth had mentioned the vampire, he sent word to the local shifter community, whose job it was to protect the surrounding area from the vamps.

"Lady Elizabeth—that's what's got you in this foul mood? What is she to you, Raven? I have a right to know!"

He spun around to face Sabina, who stood there shouting and drawing the attention of the others from the camp. He didn't like her demanding answers he couldn't give her. Turning back to the shifters, he grabbed Andreas's hand. "Thank you. Stay safe."

Andreas nodded, and he glanced at Cosmo, who slapped Raven's shoulder.

"Anytime. We need to maintain the peace. Any unusual activity puts us all at risk. But like Andreas said, the lady should be safe now, which is more than I can say about you."

The younger shifter of the two, Cosmo motioned his head in Sabina's direction. "Sounds like you're in trouble."

Raven flicked his head back and caught Sabina strolling away. He needed to go and explain things to her. But how? He sighed. "Maybe—but nothing I can't handle."

The older shifter with dark hair stepped into his space and pressed his hand on his shoulder. "Make sure you do. You don't want to cross Sir Charles Dempsey. He's a high sheriff and MP, with powerful friends who reach the throne. You don't want to become his enemy. Pixie has been watching over the lady since we detected her scent, knowing she was unusual, just in case we needed to act. But the situation at the house is not good, Raven."

He knew Pixie was another shifter, but he had not noticed her near Tregowen. The shifters left, and he raced off to find Sabina to try to clear the air. But she was nowhere to be seen. Strolling back to his wagon to clean up the mess from earlier, his mother stopped him and frowned, peering at his face.

"Leave me alone, old woman." He ignored her pleas as he entered his wagon and picked up all the broken glass.

"You will hear me out, son. You cannot hide from me. I know what's inside your head and heart."

He had heard enough and shouted, "If that's true, you knew Lady Elizabeth was my soul-mate! I don't have any choice about how I feel because she owns my heart and my soul. I am compelled to protect her even though I can't, and it's killing me."

He heard a gasp and the scrape of a chair on the floor. When he twisted around, he saw the back of Sabina as she ran out of the wagon, her bracelets jingling as she ran.

His mother stood there with her head bowed low. "Let her go. She'll calm down."

Knowing Sabina, he knew his mother was right; she would calm down, but it would not erase what he said. The truth was out there. His heart belonged to another and if Sabina asked him, he couldn't deny it. Elizabeth was tattooed on his heart forever. Yet, he had walked away when she needed him. _What kind of man was he?_ Not a man worthy of her. Besides, what kind of life could he offer her? They would be on their own. His people would shun them. They wouldn't accept a union with an outsider, especially when he would have dishonored one of their own. Besides, Sir Charles would hunt them down. No—there was nothing he could do except leave, for both their sakes. He roared as if in pain and when his mother wrapped her arms around his waist, he held her tight.

~~*~~

Snow fell, and Elizabeth closeted herself indoors, not wanting to venture outside. The Christmas tree and fresh evergreen garlands were hung around in the grand hall and dining rooms. The festive season held no appeal for her this year, and despite promising herself she wouldn't, a melancholy settled over her. The house fell silent, cut off from the rest of the world. Elizabeth woke early one morning with cramps in her belly and bright-red blood on the sheets. Her monthly flow had returned. She wasn't pregnant. Part of her was relieved and part terrified as she knew Charles would return soon. The weeks passed, and she fell into a simple routine.

To keep busy, during the day she wrote more letters to Kitty and hid in the library long into the night, reading poetry, history, and the fiction books in great supply. She wandered into the dining room and played on the pianoforte or sketched scenes from the garden. For the most part, the servants kept to themselves, but every morning when she woke, a fire greeted her in the hearth, warming her room. After dinner, when she returned to her room, once again a fire glowed. She hadn't spoken directly with the housekeeper since the morning she went for a ride, but she suspected the new maid Milly was instructed to by Enid.

As she stepped into the hallway, the front door creaked open, and in marched Charles, wiping snow from his grave face. The butler helped him remove his long coat and he regarded her in silence as her heart pounded. She wouldn't run from this man and approached him, noticing he was alone.

"My lady, your husband has returned. Will you dine with me this evening in your room? No need to dress for the occasion." He removed his gloves.

The way he ran his solicitous gaze over her left her in no doubt as to his intention. He was here to perform his duty to sire a child, nothing more.

"Are you here for Christmas?"

"Maybe. I'm not decided yet."

Elizabeth's heart sank. She eyed Charles and sighed, glancing over at the butler, who nodded at them and left them alone.

"Are you expecting anyone else while you are here?"

She needed to know whether the Lady Rowena and Abigail were to return because she didn't think she could bear it.

He peered at her and put an arm around her shoulder, leading her away toward the sitting room. "Elizabeth, it is good to see you are in a welcoming mood. Perhaps you've softened somewhat since we last met?"

She studied him, holding no warm feelings for the man at all. A sinking sensation gripped her belly, but she wanted to be strong, and show she was willing.

"Sir, I am your wife. I will always welcome you."

"Very good, Elizabeth. I knew you would understand the way of things. I've learned you are not pregnant, which is the reason for my return. No one will disturb us this trip. However, there are certain constraints I feel are necessary. You will not ride your horse until after a child is born and you will remain confined to the house until there is one in your belly. There will be no more trips outdoors or letters to Kitty, my lady, until you have fulfilled your role. Do I make myself clear?"

Stumbling back, she couldn't disguise how shocked she was at his announcement. _How dare he!_ He couldn't keep her a prisoner inside the house or stop her from riding. But she wouldn't say anything to upset him for fear of any further repercussions. She forced down her need to scream at him and instead nodded her compliance, knowing she had no other choice. He was the master of Tregowen.

Charles instructed the housekeeper to serve food in her bedroom on a small wooden table and chairs, which the butler carried inside. After drinking a small glass of wine and finishing the meal, he wasted no time in stalking toward her and unbuttoning her dress as she shivered. When it fell to the floor, he gathered her chemise and stripped it from her, removing the rest of her clothes. Standing naked before him, her belly recoiled, and she folded her arms to hide herself, but he smiled.

"Elizabeth, there's no part of you I haven't seen or touched. What good will that do?"

Charles's relentless possession went on throughout the night until he lay exhausted and fell asleep, snoring. When she did attempt to leave the bed, he grabbed her wrist.

"Madam, you will remain on the bed and let my seed plant itself in your womb."

Every time he fondled and thrust inside, she imagined it was Raven. His swarthy face appeared, and it brought her some comfort as her husband's need to create a child went on for several days. On the fourth day, Charles slid from her bed and dressed. She reached for the jug on the side table. But her husband caught her movement and lifted the jug, pouring her a small amount into a glass before handing it over.

"You are not to get out of bed. I have it on good authority from my doctor who firmly believes this will help with conception and produce a male heir. It would serve you well to do as I bid, madam, as I do not need to remind you that it is your duty to carry my heir."

She glared at him and threw the glass right at him, but he ducked, letting it smash on the floor. The anger building up inside needed to be released. She could no longer contain herself.

"Do you not care that I could die giving birth as my mother did?"

Charles picked up his waistcoat and slipped his arms through. "You are a strong woman, Elizabeth, as you just demonstrated. There is no reason for concern. Giving birth should not cause an issue for you, but if such an unforeseen tragedy were to occur, I would, of course, employ a wet nurse. My son would not go without."

Elizabeth rolled away, hugging her pillow and wishing she could leave this terrible place. She was a vessel to carry his child, nothing more. To produce his heir, preferably a boy.

"What if I have a girl, Charles?"

His booted steps marched to her side and he lifted her chin. "I enjoy our time together, Elizabeth, and you are young. If you bore a girl, we would keep trying, my dear. It would be good to have several children; it would keep you occupied. Now rest. The doctor said it is not good to be anxious. If you are not successful this month, I will need to increase my length of stay next time."

She sat upright, anger boiling inside. "What if I refuse you?"

The scar on his cheek flinched and he pulled her left hand in front of her, lifting her wedding ring right in her face. "You vowed before God to honor and obey me, madam. You will not defy me."

"This marriage is nothing but a sham. You've openly flaunted a mistress in front of me since I set foot here. You care nothing for me—let me go."

He opened his mouth and she thought he might slap her, but instead he charged out of the room, and she heard the door lock behind him. She lay in bed, inconsolable and alone, crying into her pillow. The next day, the key turned, unlocking the door, and she hurried downstairs, glad to be free of her room. The cold house lay quiet; even Smokey had abandoned her.

Christmas and New Year passed without celebration. She didn't care. But the need to escape outside increased daily. Her maid watched her every move, sometimes remaining by her side even when she read in the library. Elizabeth no longer trusted anyone at the house and no one spoke to her. The gray misty morning beckoned to her, and knowing Charles was not due back for a while, she donned her worn boy's outfit. It was early and the house silent. Even her maid was absent, and she crept out of the house to the stables. Leading Arabian Spirit out of his pen, she fed the stallion a carrot from her hand.

"Lady Elizabeth—what are you doing?"

Hearing Raven at her back made her stiffen. She didn't need any advice or conversation with the man who threw her away without any care. He meant nothing to her, and she continued to ready her horse with a saddle.

"Milady—I've been told not to let you ride." Davey stood by her side.

She slid her glance at him and gave him a short smile, the best she could manage. "Don't worry, you're not. No one is stopping me—no one, do you hear me?" She stared up at Raven and his dark eyes held her.

"Don't be a fool. If the master catches you dressed as a guttersnipe, going against his wishes, he'll take pleasure in punishing you. Is that what you want?"

Shocked at his obvious anger, she shouted, "I am a fool for trying to make this marriage work—but he cannot hurt me anymore than he already has!" Elizabeth placed her foot in the stirrup and heaved herself over the horse. Holding the reins, she steered her stallion away.

Galloping over the fields and pastures covered in light snow, she breathed in the fresh air and wished to the heavens above her life would change. She wished for freedom and knew she would never have it—not in this life. Not only did Charles not love her, but he didn't care whether she lived or died. She was a possession, nothing more. She couldn't remain with him any longer. When she returned to Tregowen, she would grab her jewelry and run away to Hawkswood. Mabel, her old housekeeper, and Kitty would help her once they knew of her situation. With a plan in mind, she directed her horse back to the house and left Arabian Spirit in Davey's care, changing back into her dress before entering the house. As she ran for the entrance, Raven blocked her way and gripped her shoulders.

"Are you all right?"

She thumped him, shocked by the vitriol overtaking her. _How could he ask her that?_ She slapped him across the face. Raven flinched but stood there as she pummeled his chest repeatedly until he caught her hands and held them.

"You have no idea what my life is like, and you have no right to ask me anything."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "You're right. Forgive me, Elizabeth. I said what I did, thinking I would protect you. But the man is reprehensible, and I could kill him for all he has done. He's cruel beyond measure, and you deserve tenderness and love. But if I were to interfere, it would only make matters worse. Do you understand?"

She stared at him as he frowned and continued to hold her.

"Say you understand—please?"

She lowered her head; she understood and knew her plight was hopeless.

"Don't do anything to upset him. No more riding—it isn't safe for you. You need to be careful. He has ordered the staff to watch your every move and they obey him without question. What if he found out that you were a soul-shifter? That you had the power to heal injuries? What if you're with child?"

All his questions whirled inside her head. She pressed her hands over her belly and wondered whether she may be carrying Charles's child. A sob broke from her throat. "My mother died giving birth to me. What if that happens to me? I'm scared."

He squeezed her hands and led her into the dark stables, out of sight, cupping her pale, drawn face. "You won't. You're stronger than any woman I've ever known, and you will bear this. You will survive."

Lifting her head, she stared into his eyes, which held hers. The way he smiled at her softened the desolation inside. She smiled back before crushing herself against his solid chest, clinging to him and stealing these precious few moments for dear life. The way he held her, as if she were delicate, reached deep into her soul, strengthening her. A moment later, he eased her away and she wandered back to her room, resolute once again to carry on.

However, one bleak morning turned into another; a week passed by. Elizabeth sat one morning in the library and the fire of a shotgun vibrated around the walls, breaking the silence. She dropped her book to the floor and ran outside to the stables. There was no reason she could fathom for the gunfire, and she ran, her heart racing all over the place. Once in the courtyard, a crowd of workmen gathered, their faces grim. She stared at each solemn face as she pushed forward to the stables to check on Arabian Spirit, but Raven stepped from the crowd and gripped her shoulders, halting her.

"Don't," he whispered. The sound of his voice was quiet and far away but she knew she must continue and jerked herself free.

Charles stalked out with the shotgun in his hand, his face stern and uncompromising as he handed the gun over to one of the stable hands. He wiped his forehead and replaced his handkerchief in his pocket. "I had no choice, Elizabeth—the horse is wild, like its owner."

"Nooo—"

Stumbling, she almost dropped to the ground at his words, but she didn't believe he would be that cruel. Charging on, she pushed past him and dashed inside, reaching Arabian Spirit's stall.

Davey stared at her with wet cheeks and Raven appeared in front of her once more to shield her.

"Don't. It will do no good, milady," he whispered.

"Let me through."

Raven sighed but stepped aside and hung his head. Lying still was her beloved horse. She ran to him and dropped to her knees in the hay, launching herself over the silent animal. Stroking her hand over his lifeless form, a painful cry rent from her throat, breaking the silence. Lying across him, she stroked his dark mane, whispering to him softly as she sobbed.

"You're free now, my darling. Ride like the wind."
Chapter 15

The maid gave Elizabeth another spoonful of medicine, and she swallowed it, letting the darkness pull her under. Only then did the memory of Arabian Spirit being shot vanish. She remained in his stall until darkness. Someone carried her, screaming, to her room, where every time she closed her eyes, the sound of the gun firing played over and over. The sight of her beautiful horse lying dead broke her. She couldn't believe her husband could be such a barbarian, but he was. But darker still was the guilt she carried at defying him, which led to the stallion's slaughter. When Charles touched her, she scratched and bit him like a wild animal. She threw every object and glass figurine she could get her hands on, throwing them at him until they smashed on the ground. The marriage was over. She hated him with every cell in her body.

"Good God, the woman is possessed. She needs more of her medicine to calm her down and if you cannot control her, I will call for the doctor. She may need restraints or to be hospitalized. This room remains locked until she sees sense."

The words her husband hurled bounced off her. She loathed him and curled up in a tight ball, shutting out the world and everyone in it out until voices from the past pleaded with her.

You cannot give in, Elizabeth. Even pain, lovey, is a sign you live.

Gwen is right. My life ended too soon but in you we live on. You have met your soul-mate; go to him. He is the key to your destiny.

Listening to the ghosts of the women she had once been filled her with purpose. She would not let Sir Charles destroy her, which he would if she stayed here. Obtaining a divorce would be impossible. Therefore, she would run away and start over somewhere new. Fired with fresh purpose and determination, she willed herself to get out of bed. When the maid came with more laudanum, she refused and asked her instead to help her get washed and dressed.

"But Sir Charles said it would help you feel better."

She slapped the glass out from the maid's hand and it smashed to the floor. "I am not ill. He shot and killed my horse. No medicine is going to change that. Is it?"

The maid lowered her head. "No, milady."

After soaking in the copper tub, she felt stronger than she had in days. She summoned all her strength to dress and face the man she hated with every bone in her body. Walking downstairs and along the corridor to the dining room, she heard raised voices. She hid behind the door to peer in between the opening, spying on Enid and Sir Charles.

"Sir, the Lady Elizabeth has not eaten for days. You cannot leave now. If you care at all for the young mistress, you will show her some kindness. As a child, I begged your father to be lenient with you. I felt at times the man went too far with his cruel punishment. He was a stern man, but you were such a loving boy. Can you not find it in your heart to demonstrate that now?"

Elizabeth couldn't believe how Enid spoke to her husband, and on her behalf, but Charles wasn't having any of it.

"Enid, how long have you been in my service?"

"For over thirty years, sir."

"Well, for that reason, I'll allow this little outburst, because you have always served me well. But consider your place and how your life would be without the comforts it affords you. If I were to terminate your employment, I would have to make it known how disloyal a servant you were, and no one would seek to employ you thereafter. Bear that in mind the next time you seek to give me advice where my frail wife is concerned. Now, I must leave. An important matter calls me back to London. I know not when I will return. Rest and confinement is what my wife needs. She is not right in the head. Ensure that happens."

Elizabeth watched as he folded a letter and threw it into the flames.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

With that, Charles stormed out of the room, followed by Enid. Once they were both far enough away, she stepped from her hiding place and ran into the dining room, rushing to the fireplace to grab the burning piece of paper. Tapping the edges on the cold floor to stop the paper burning, she read the remaining words on the note.

My dearest, I have the most wonderous news to share with you. After many years suspecting I was barren, I am overjoyed to discover that I am with child. Darling Charles, I am having your baby. Please rush back to London, where we can celebrate our good fortune together. You no longer need to fulfill your obligation to your child bride.

The rest of the note had been burnt. Despite feeling relieved that Charles would no longer need her to carry his heir, she frowned; she was his wife, not his mistress, and wondered how this new situation would change both their lives. A desperate need to confide in Raven overcame her, but she needed to wait until her husband left. Once she saw the carriage pull away from the house, she changed quickly into the pants and cotton shirt she had borrowed from Davey. Without Arabian Spirit, she would have to walk the several miles to the woodlands, but after being cooped up inside, she relished the fresh air and exercise.

Taking care not to be spotted, she made her way through the house, carrying all the jewels she possessed wrapped in a pair of her cotton drawers, which she had fashioned into a sack. Once clear of the house, she made her way to the stables, ducking behind the carts and tiptoeing around, searching for either Davey or Raven. When she caught sight of the lad, she dashed over and tapped his shoulder.

"Davey, where's Barnaby?" She was careful to use his correct name, not wanting to let his Roma name spill out. The lad glanced around as if scared to be seen with her and she checked the area to see whether anyone was watching them.

"Has the master instructed you not to speak to me?"

The young boy's big brown eyes searched her face and he nodded.

She sighed. "It's okay."

"What 'e did weren't right. But 'e told us you needed to be taught a lesson. 'E also said we mustn't talk to you, milady," the lad burst out.

She ruffled his hair. "Don't worry, Davey. I understand. But I need you to do me a favor. No one will know. Give this to Barnaby. I need to speak with him." She handed him a note from her bracelet and the boy took it.

"I think 'e left, milady."

Elizabeth cried out, unable to stop herself. _He couldn't have just up and left._ She ran away from the stables, unsure of where to go. Thick white clouds filled the air and a light drizzle fell but she didn't care. She couldn't stay any longer. Her boots squelched in the damp mud and she plodded up the hill. Mud stained her pants as she trudged over the fields until she reached the woodlands, drawn once again inside. She didn't know where the Romany camp was but guessed it lay hidden farther inside.

Elizabeth wandered, allowing her senses to guide her. The magical beat started as soon as she touched the rough bark of the tree, leading her deeper into the woods. Trudging over the carpet of multicolored leaves, she slid and tripped down the rocky slope and stared at the pool where Raven had been swimming. There was no sign of him today, but she continued through the narrow trees and over the uneven terrain down into a shaded valley. The scent of a fire and smoke rose in the distance, along with the distinct smell of food. Her stomach growled. She couldn't remember when she had last eaten anything. Up to this point, she had been certain of what to do; now, standing here, studying the several caravans and fires as children ran around, she was not sure of anything and stepped back to retrace her steps. But she was grabbed by the arm and twisted around.

"Well, what do we have here? You're not a boy!" the stocky young man as dark as Raven shouted to the other older man, who leered at her chest.

"Definitely not a boy, by the size of those tits. What are you doing here?"

The older man grabbed her and snatched the bag of jewels.

She thumped him. "Let me go."

"Not a chance. We've caught ourselves a thief. She's got the bleedin' crown jewels in 'ere."

"The master will be pleased to have these returned. There's sure to be a reward."

Elizabeth struggled in his arms, needing to get away from these two. She kneed the man holding her in the groin and he groaned, releasing her. But she didn't get far as the person caught her hair and she yelped in pain.

"You're not going anywhere, missy, not with 'em. You'll be swinging at the end of the hangman's noose. Nope, I need to know who you are and how you knew about this camp."

Elizabeth wriggled and bit his wrist, making him curse, but he held on fast and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her like a piece of meat. When she thumped his back, he slapped her hard on her rump and she cried at the sting of pain. As the two men strode in past the caravans, she realized the campsite was bigger than what she could see from the edge of the trees.

There must be thirty or so caravans and people came from every corner to watch what was going on. Children laughed and threw acorns at her, calling out, "Wot you got there, Caleb?"

"Stay back. She's a wildling, for sure," Caleb answered.

The roars and shouts drew a crowd and soon everyone gathered around in the center, watching as he dumped her unceremoniously on the ground in a heap. Her hair spilled over her face, hiding her from the crowd. Elizabeth pushed her hair away and stood but wobbled on unsteady feet. The fact she hadn't eaten was catching up to her.

"Saul, we found this scallywag traipsing through the woods close by. She's got a bag of stolen loot, she has."

Caleb grabbed her arm and swung her around to face the man he was speaking to. An older man, with engraved lines that crossed his forehead and short gray hair, stood in front of her, his face set like stone.

"Let me go, you big oaf. They're not stolen. I'm..."

Raven slid out through the crowd and tugged her away from Caleb. "What the hell are you doing here, Moll? She's with me. She's one of the women from the Rose and Dove."

The men laughed. Wolf whistles sounded out as they backed away and Caleb let her go with Raven. Elizabeth scowled at him, not liking his insinuations, but as the crowd thinned out, she was grateful.

"She's not dressed like a lightskirt. More like a child. And a skinny one at that."

The crowd grew silent. Elizabeth studied them and knew she needed to say something to answer his query and shouted, "I don't eat much and some clients like young 'uns."

Satisfied, the men laughed and grunted, wandering away.

"You better not let Sabina catch you. When you're done with 'er, send 'er my way. Wot about these gems, Raven?" Caleb shouted after them.

He grabbed the bag from the man who held them in his face, and pulled out a bracelet, which he tossed back to him

"Keep it."

"Oy, that's mine..." Elizabeth said.

But Raven dragged her away and charged off, shaking her as she struggled and tripped when he walked too fast for her. "Be quiet—don't say anything until we are away from Caleb and the others. If they discover who you are, there will be murder."

Elizabeth glanced back at the man who stood examining the trinket Raven had given him and watching them closely as they headed away.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To my wagon. He thinks you're here to pleasure me."

Elizabeth shook her arm out of his tight grip and trotted by his side. "I know what he thinks I am. The question is why does he accept that I'm here for you?"

She studied the broody man who rubbed his dark whiskers, not looking at her, but kept striding at a fast pace until he reached a fern-green and red wagon. The man climbed up the wooden steps and once she entered, he closed the door, blocking her exit. The interior was small, but the intricate carvings and exposed wood were richly decadent. Elizabeth studied her surroundings, taking in the ornate raised bed at the far end of the caravan. Wooden cabinets ran along one side while on the other side there were books. All the furniture inside was painted a lighter green than the outside. In addition, there were two worn easy chairs in a ruby color and a small table. Candlesticks of many sizes covered nearly every surface.

"Not quite what you're used to, milady?" He arched an eyebrow at her.

"Do you use my title to continue to state the differences between you and me?"

"Maybe."

"Well, it doesn't matter any longer, not that it truly ever did to me. As for your home, it is far more welcoming than Tregowen House has ever been."

Raven walked in farther and leaned against the wall cabinet, crossing his arms as if to stop himself from reaching out to her, she observed. "How did you find us?"

"I left you a note with Davey. I wanted to see you, but he said you had left. I didn't mean to come to these woods, but I couldn't believe you would just leave. I had to see for myself." She shook her head. "As soon as I set foot in the woods once again, I was drawn here."

Raven cursed and raked his hands through his hair, studying the door.

"Are you leaving because of me?" Elizabeth asked, her cheeks heating.

"Partly—but we never stay any place long, and it's time," he said, not looking at her but staring out the window.

"I see—well, I cannot stay at Tregowen any longer. Not after—not after Arabian Spirit..."

She broke off, unable to stop her voice breaking and he came to her side, wrapping her in his arms, hugging her. Soaking up his scent of smoke and horse, she closed her eyes for a moment and clung to his shirt, not wanting to be parted from him.

"I want to kill him for how he has wronged you. You must know that. That is why I must leave. For I fear anything I do will only make matters worse for you."

The depth of his words shook her. Raven cared for her, but he was still going to leave, and she would be alone, giving her no choice. She would carry out her plan and run away. Elizabeth broke free and glided over to the bookcase, eyeing the contents. _Gulliver's Travels_ , _Robinson Crusoe_ —both great books—but the next one she had not heard of. She picked up the red book titled _Moll Flanders_ and shook it at him.

"You have some wonderful books here. What's this one about?"

He walked over and removed the book from her hand to place it back on the shelf. "This isn't a game, Elizabeth. You're not safe here. If Sir Charles would kill your horse because you disobeyed him, imagine what he will do if he finds you consorting with me?"

She covered her mouth with her hand. _Was he blaming her for Arabian Spirit's death?_ "I didn't imagine for one second he would carry out his threat."

"No—I know you didn't. You loved your horse, and I wish I could change what happened, but I can't. Sir Charles always gets what he wants. He won't let anything stop him, and if this were just about us, nothing would stop me. I would steal you away and keep you safe from harm for the rest of my days. But it isn't."

Elizabeth listened to his speech and absorbed his words. She folded her arms and acknowledged she had been reckless to seek him out. "I cannot remain at Tregowen. There's nothing left for me there. Charles has returned to London to be with his mistress, who is carrying his child, and I'm set on leaving."

"Where will you go?"

She eyed him. "Back to Hawkswood in Gloucestershire—my family's estate. Kitty, my old maid, and the housekeeper will help me figure out my next move. Perhaps they will know of someone who needs a governess."

"Knowing the sort of man Sir Charles is, Elizabeth, he will seek revenge on anyone who helps you. You would be putting your friends in grave danger. Is that what you want? Besides, you cannot travel alone. How far do you think you will get before you are robbed or worse, carrying those precious trinkets around? The countryside is not safe. The winter here is harsh. Food is scarce, and families are starving. You don't stand a chance on your own. You have to go back."

She had not thought of what Charles might do if she ran away, and her stomach dropped. He was right. Charles would hunt her down and anyone involved in helping her would feel the wrath of his anger. Knowing this might be the only chance she would get, she dashed over to him and pressed her palm flat over his heart, feeling it as it raced. "Then take me with you when you leave."

The door to the wagon slammed open and Elizabeth spun around as a voluptuous woman with dark, wavy hair and red lips peered at her.

"Caleb said we had a visitor, but he never said it was a she. Are we taking in waifs and strays now, Raven? A thief— no less." The stunning woman held up the bracelet Raven had given to Caleb. "You'll bring the law down on us all, you will."

Elizabeth gulped, never having contemplated that Raven was married or attached, and she grabbed her makeshift bag to head for the exit. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you."

The woman blocked her way and peered closer at her, examining her clothes up and down before glancing over at Raven.

"You can't go. Not yet. Sabina, this is Moll. She's an orphan who needs our help. Her master abused her and she's running away."

The curvy woman moved from the door and closed in on Elizabeth. "Well, I ain't stopping her. She's trouble, that's what she is. Now, how did you find us?"

Raven stepped in front of Elizabeth. "I told her to come here. She's under my protection, Sabina. Now leave her be."

Elizabeth couldn't see the woman's face but imagined she wouldn't be pleased, and she understood. Even if Raven helped her, she would be bringing trouble to his door. Coming here had been a huge mistake, and she clung to her jewels, determined to leave as soon as she could.

"I see—well, if she's to stay for a while, she best come with me. I could use an extra pair of hands to collect some herbs and prepare the vegetables for dinner."

Raven glanced back at her over his shoulder with his eyebrows drawn together, assessing her, unsure what to say.

Knowing she couldn't just leave, she stepped from behind him. "I'm happy to help."

No sooner were her words out than the woman grabbed her wrist and pushed her toward the door, but Raven grabbed Sabina's arm.

"Remember—she's my responsibility."

The beautiful woman stared hard at him before studying Elizabeth and dragging her outside. Once outside, Sabina turned on her and released her hold.

"Well, I don't know who you are, but if he thinks you can carry on with him right under my nose, he's mistaken. We need to head deeper in the forest to gather the herbs. Follow me. I have a basket you can use."

Elizabeth walked through the busy camp. The smell of smoke and bread glided on the breeze, but she kept her eyes pinned on Sabina. The woman led her through the woods and showed her which plants they used for cooking. For the next several hours, she picked the handfuls of wild mint and sage until her back ached. She slumped down by the tree, leaning her back against the rough bark and closed her eyes, wondering what the hell she was doing. Running away wasn't going quite to plan. A branch snapped nearby, and she jolted forward, ready to fight any assailants.

"Thirsty?" Sabina stood before her, offering her a flagon. "It's berry juice. It's good, it is." She shook it in her direction, and Elizabeth examined the woman.

Thinking she was being friendly, she accepted the container and after wiping the top, swallowed some of the cool liquid. The tart sweetness was good, and she sipped it, enjoying the fruity flavor. "Thank you. It's good."

"You're a quiet one, you are, and you don't sound from around these parts. So where are you from then?"

Elizabeth knew the woman was suspicious, and rightly so. "You're right. I'm from over the border in Gloucester. I used to work at one them big 'ouses as a maid, but the master took advantage, 'e did."

"Bastard. All these gentry folk and royalty, they're all the same—wanting something for nothing. So, you have been working at the Rose and Thorns, have ye?"

"Yes, that's right. At least there I get paid." She played along with the story Raven had created.

"Not the Rose and Dove then?"

Elizabeth wasn't sure of the answer but smiled. "No."

"We best get back. You can help pluck the chickens. Come on."

The woman gathered her basket and strode away, and she followed. She had never plucked a feather from her pillow, let alone an animal, but she didn't want to appear incapable or to reveal who she was. Back at the camp, she joined several other women to prepare the food, but Sabina caught hold of her hand and stopped her.

"Let's get you out of those dirty clothes. I have something better that will fit. Perhaps you can earn some extra coin tonight."

Shocked at the woman's suggestion but left with no choice, she let Sabina dress her. A short time later, Elizabeth descended from the Roma's wagon dressed in a long-sleeved cream blouse that finished above her belly button and a black skirt with pink rosebuds that rested on her hips, exposing more flesh than she had ever done so before. Sabina brushed Elizabeth's long hair, letting the loose waves ripple down her back; she painted her eyes with kohl and added a small lace scarf around her head.

"There you go. You could almost pass for a Roma, except you're so pale. Come, have some more juice and help me with the food."

Elizabeth didn't want to upset or argue with the woman, even though as she stared at herself in the small mirror, she didn't recognize the provocative woman before her. The sun was setting, and fires blazed around the camp. A man played a violin and people sang; children were running around, laughing. She wandered with Sabina, who led her by the hand to where several women prepared food. The atmosphere in the camp was happy and relaxed. The men added more logs to the huge fire and gathered around, drinking. She felt Raven's eyes upon her the minute she strolled by. His intense gaze devoured her with one sultry look. A craving for him she couldn't control drove her mad. Her heart raced inside her chest, but she spun away to join the women. Sabina handed her the flagon and she drank as she helped prepare the meal, noticing the small plant she chopped with a sharp knife.

"What is that you're cutting?"

The pretty woman lifted a small gray slice to her mouth and ate it. "It's a mushroom. We use it in stews. It's very good. Try some. It will also make you happy. You want to be happy, don't you?"

Yes, she did, and picked up the sliced soft piece of mushroom and chewed it. "Aw, it has no taste."

"It is better with the drink. Try it."

Elizabeth popped another piece in and swallowed the wine. Sabina nodded and kept filling her hand and tipping the drink back. She wasn't sure how many pieces of the plant she consumed, but the world around her shimmered and she smiled. Hearing the melody in the background, Elizabeth could not resist swaying to the beat. Sabina grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the roaring fire, twirling her around in a circle, making her light-headed. But she followed the woman's lead and twisted around seductively.

Sabina knocked her hips and she laughed, repeating her action, swinging her hips from side to side. The woman pushed her into a stocky man, who smiled and grabbed her tight around the waist, splaying his hands over her hips. Shocked, she wriggled to free herself. The smell of alcohol on the man's breath was foul. When he ground himself into her and cupped her bottom, she shoved his chest to get him to let go but couldn't until Raven dragged the man aside. The music stopped as the two men wrestled.

"She belongs to me. She's mine," Raven shouted, putting an end to the performance. The man staggered away, and Raven grabbed her hand, striding away from the rowdy crowd and storming off.

The violin started up again and music filled the night. The world glowed around her. The stars twinkled like huge tears in the sky and Elizabeth laughed, squeezing into Raven's side, giggling.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, acting like that?"

It was obvious he was angry, but she didn't care. The world around her shone with a soft golden light. Everything looked magical. The trees became giants, the ferns became multicolored fans, and she watched enormous spiders spin their intricate lace cobwebs. The dragonflies were fairies with beautiful faces.

"How could you say that in front of everyone? I know she isn't a lightskirt, Raven. Who is she?" Sabina shouted behind them.

Raven stopped and twisted around. "Be quiet, Sabina—what have you given her?"

The fuzzy woman split in two and Elizabeth held her hand out to touch the blurry image.

"She wanted to try some. It is only a little of the magic mushroom. She will be fine."

"You poisoned her. Damn it to hell, that plant makes you lose all your sensibilities. I'm done with your petty jealousy, woman. I told you to leave her alone."

Sabina charged at him and tried to shove Elizabeth away from him. "Tell me who she is and what she is, Raven! Tell me! I will not be made a fool of by anyone."

"She's none of your concern. Now, go away, Sabina. We'll talk on the morrow."

"You'll regret this, I promise you."

"Aye, you're probably right, but she needs me."

The woman ran away, and Elizabeth gazed up at the sky as a golden shooting star crossed the inky ocean. She smiled when Raven hoisted her up into his arms and she nestled in against his hard muscles, weaving her hand through his dark hair. She was hungry for his touch and kisses. "Take me to bed, Raven." She kissed his cheek and breathed in his earthy scent.

"I am."
Chapter 16

Raven told himself he had no choice. When Lady Elizabeth arrived in his camp, what could he do? Pretend he didn't know who she was? Leave Caleb to deal with her? That would not end well for anyone. Sabina was right: the woman was all kinds of trouble. If Sir Charles discovered where she was, they would all pay dearly—with their lives—and yet he couldn't refuse her. If what Elizabeth said was true about her husband, then she was in a dangerous position regardless.

As he lay her down gently on his bed, she closed her eyes, but her lips curved into a wicked smile that called for him to taste her just this once. He stared at the nymph before him as she breathed in and out, drawing attention to the sloping curves of her breasts. But the door behind him clicked open.

"I said—I would talk with you on the morrow, Sabina."

He spun around but it wasn't Sabina. Instead, he faced the wrath of his mother.

"It can't wait until then." The fiery woman barged over and pushed him away, staring at the semi-conscious woman on his bed. His mother stepped in front of him and lifted Elizabeth's palm, running her thumb over the several indentations and lines there. Raising Elizabeth's hand to show him what he already knew.

"She is the one, son. The one who will cause your death. She has five lifelines. I have never seen that before on anyone." She placed Elizabeth's hand back on the sheet and grabbed his hand, twisting it over and stroking his palm.

"You must let this woman go. She can't stay here, or we'll all perish."

Staring at the slim outline of the woman lying on his bed dressed like a Roma, he wondered whether they could make a life together. _Was she really set on running away?_ Whatever he did, he knew just as his lifeline was ingrained and unchangeable, so, too, were his feelings. Watching her earlier as she swayed, carefree, to the beat of the music, a force deep inside told him to reach out and take what was his. Sir Charles didn't love her. She belonged with him and no other. Removing his hand from his mother's, he twisted away.

"I had no intention of letting her stay, but Sabina dug her claws in. Now, Elizabeth is feeling the effect of the magic mushrooms. I cannot let her leave until sunrise."

His mother pressed on his arm. "Son, to take another man's wife is a sin."

"She's my soul-mate."

"You knew this time would come. You knew the woman would steal your heart. But I am warning you now for the last time. Do not break the solemn vows of marriage."

He stalked over to the cabinet, wanting a drink, but turned on his mother. "Sir Charles does not deserve her. He's nothing but a despicable animal. He cares nothing for his lady wife. He had his mistress installed at Tregowen from the day Elizabeth arrived. He's had all he needed from her, and now he does not even need her for that. I wouldn't put it past that bastard to have her murdered."

His words were filled with venom as he spat them out, but therein lay his greatest fear. He was appalled at the feelings raging inside him at the situation. "If it's my fate to die because of loving her, then I surrender to it right here. I cannot ignore the ache of my heart, nor can I ignore the power she has over me. I would rather spend one night with her than a lifetime with someone I care nothing for."

Stepping closer to his mother as tears filled her eyes, he hung his head in defeat and gripped her shoulders. "I cannot marry Sabina. I do not love her, and while I may never have God's blessing or yours, Elizabeth's inside every thought I make, and I cannot change that. I will not abandon her again. I love her. Please—understand."

She ducked her head and sniffed. "If you do this..."

"I will leave with her on the morrow. We'll head north, far away from here, to not put you or the others in danger. But you must leave also. All of you."

Without another word, his mother slipped out of the wagon. A calm settled over him after making his decision. His mother may never forgive him, nor his people. Raven helped himself to a long drink and settled into the easy chair, meaning to sleep the night there and be ready to leave at sunrise. But when Elizabeth cried out from the bed, he went to her.

"No, please," she screamed, with her hands clutching her neck.

Feeling hot, he removed his shirt and slid across the large bed, hauling her slim frame tight against his chest. He didn't care any longer about the correctness of their relationship or question whether it was wise that she lay in his bed. Smelling her scent and feeling her soft skin brush along his arms dissolved his reason. She molded against him perfectly, as if created especially for him. When she moaned, he gathered her long hair to the side and kissed her shoulder softly, helping to dispel her nightmares the only way he could—by loving her.

"Shh, you're safe now. Sleep."

At the sweep of his lips on her skin, he couldn't resist licking her salty flesh, lighting the blood in his veins that called again to claim her. When her bottom rubbed his dick, it throbbed and hardened in arousal. Elizabeth reached for his hand and lifted it to cup her breast, pressing it there. Raven held the weight of her ample breast in his hand. Her skin was irresistibly silky, and he brushed the nipple through her blouse with his thumb. She rested her head back against him and moaned. God, he loved the sound she made and wanted to make love to her right there and give her endless pleasure. Every impulse inside him screamed out for her. But he resisted, knowing she was not in her right mind. He sighed and pulled the sheet over them, content to simply hold her in his arms.

"Sleep."

He cuddled her close, unwilling to let go. When her breathing fell even, he drifted to sleep himself.

~~*~~

Lying wrapped fully clothed in Raven's arms, Elizabeth suspected that, despite asking him to take her to bed, nothing sexual passed between them. Her head ached, and her mouth held a bitter taste. Parts of last night were hazy. A feeling of being relaxed had stolen over her, to the point of her not caring how she behaved. No doubt the wine had something to do with it, but also the strange plant she had eaten at Sabina's encouragement. She untangled her arms from Raven's and slid away from his warmth, careful not to wake him.

Readjusting her skirt and blouse, she ventured outside. Smoke rose into the air, the remnants of the fires from last evening, but the camp itself was quiet as she tiptoed around. Behind the wagon was a small brook; she headed for the water, needing to clean her mouth and freshen herself. Kneeling, she cupped her hand and drank the refreshing cold liquid, enjoying the birds chirping in the trees. But footfalls behind her made her still and turn around.

"It's only me, mistress."

Elizabeth faced a petite woman with warm, dark eyes, dressed in similar attire to all the rest of the Roma, except she wore a dark-blue scarf around her head, hiding her hair.

"I'm Maria, Raven's mother, and I know you're Lady Elizabeth."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and rose to greet the lady, but the Roma grabbed her hand, placing it palm up.

The woman traced her finger on the lines of her hand and stared at her. "You have an old soul. One that has existed many times. But you bring danger to my son. I am begging you. If you care for him at all, you will leave here and never return. Let him marry Sabina. It has been arranged with our families for a long time and it is his duty to take a Roma wife. If you remain with him, he will have no choice but to leave his people. They will not accept you, and he will bring dishonor to his family."

Listening to the Roma's words, she couldn't believe that Sabina was Raven's betrothed. Neither had said a word yesterday. _Was that why the woman had plied her with wine and the strange mushrooms?_ Her heart squeezed. He had flirted and teased with her, even though he was promised to another. She shook her head, feeling betrayed, and yet she knew they shared a bond. An irresistible connection they both felt. Even so, she had been a fool, and crazy to imagine she could somehow make a life with a man she barely knew.

Pressing her lips tight, she studied the camp as chickens ran free and children scrambled after them. She could see herself living here among them, raising a family with Raven. She would be happy; she didn't want the luxury at Tregowen. It was hollow and empty without love. A simple existence with a man who cared for and loved her, shared her love of books and the world beyond—that was all she would ever want.

"I don't want to hurt him or put any of you in danger. That's not my wish. I'll leave right away," she said quietly.

The woman held her hand, bringing her closer. "No—you're his soul-mate. If you slip away, he will follow you. You need to convince him that you do not love him and that he is foolish to believe that is possible. You need to break his heart."

Tears fell down her cheeks and the world around her seemed far away. She had not admitted to anyone, including herself until right then, she loved Raven. But it didn't matter anymore. If she put him and his family in danger, she needed to let go.

"Tell me what you want me to say."

"Explain you're returning to your husband, for better or worse. Tell him you couldn't live this life he has and that he has misjudged the person he believes you to be. You'll need to change back into your clothes."

The woman handed her the worn pants and shirt as she rambled on about what to say. Elizabeth swapped her outfit, reconciled to walk away. Once she was dressed, she left Raven's mother. She stepped back inside the wagon just as the very man sat up in bed, stretching his taut muscles and displaying his broad chest that a short time ago pressed into her back and held her safe from the world. Blinking away the memory, she pressed on.

"I'm leaving."

He shot out of bed and pulled his dark shirt over his chest, striding toward her. "I know. We're leaving together. Just give me some time. I need to speak with Sabina."

She shook her head. "No—there's no need. I'm leaving alone. It was a mistake to come here. You see, I had some romantic notion of who you are, but seeing the reality—well, it's far different from what I imagined. It would never work between us. We would always be on the run and in hiding. I was being dramatic yesterday—today..."

"Today, you've seen the truth—or someone's version of it." He placed his arm around her waist and brought her in close against his chest. With his other hand, he cupped her chin, forcing her to look him right in the face. "I could make you stay. You know I could."

His voice sounded hard and she replied, "And you would be no better than Charles."

Raven loosened his grip and his eyes narrowed. "Tell me, what is in your heart right now?"

Butterflies floated around, and she longed to tell him all she wanted was for him to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, which she knew he would do. But it would be a lie. If she left him, Raven would carry on and live a long life with his people, get married, and have a family like he was supposed to.

"I know everyone treats me as if I am a child, but I'm not. I'm a grown woman. I'm Lady Elizabeth Dempsey. Sir Charles is my husband, and I may well be carrying his child right now. I have a duty to fulfill, as do you. Anything more is foolishness." She pushed away from him and gathered her jewelry in the makeshift bag.

"You did not answer me. Do you love me, Elizabeth?"

Taking care with her words, she spun around and looked right at him, knowing she needed to be quick and deadly before her mask slipped. "Do you really believe I could love you? We are so different, you and I. Those were your words, Raven. Look inside and ask yourself if you think it is possible I could love you. Therein lies your answer."

With a straight back, she walked outside and didn't wait to see whether he followed her. Once she reached the last wagon, she raced away as fast as she could. Maybe in the past, she had been selfish and only thought about herself. Arabian Spirit had paid for her behavior. But she couldn't live if anything happened to Raven or his people because of her.

Tears fell down her cheeks. She had not been able to say she didn't love him but turned the question back on him, allowing his own doubt to be the answer. She wandered for hours through the forest as heavy rain fell. By the time she staggered into the courtyard at Tregowen House, she was drenched and muddy, barely aware of the man who lifted her up and helped her into the house or the housekeeper who helped remove her clothes and settled her into bed. Lying there, she no longer cared about anything.
Chapter 17

February 1816

Sir Charles sat at his long mahogany desk, reading through all the important papers and news that he had neglected of late. But as he puffed on his cheroot, he smiled, knowing the Old Wye Bridge was nearing completion. In honor of the opening, a celebration was to be arranged in the summer. It was one of many projects close to his heart. The previous bridge constructed over the River Wye between Wales and England was wooden in construction and over the years deteriorated into a dangerous state. Several years ago, a boat collided with the bridge, causing more damage and killing several people. The new cast-iron replacement would be a modern marvel, renewing trade and aid transportation, but money had been an issue ever since he agreed to find half the costs.

With his funds already pledged in other works and his tenants suffering with poor crops, the meager taxes he collected barely covered what was needed. But his prayers were answered as soon as he signed the marriage contract to Elizabeth. A woman of substance, the likes of which she might never realize.

"Charles, I wish you would not smoke that infernal thing in front of me. It does not help my condition at all." Lady Rowena paced back and forth by the fireplace.

"Madam, you may take your leave if you wish. In fact, I am not sure your presence here at this delicate time is required."

She approached the desk and placed her hands on his papers.

He lifted his eyes to acknowledge her. _Why were all the women in his life so damned objectionable? Why couldn't they simply accept his word?_ Life was far easier in the army; everyone obeyed his commands without hesitation. Order and respect made life much easier and far more tolerable.

"By delicate time, do you mean my pregnancy or your wife's lunacy?"

He sat back in his chair and regarded the stunning woman before him as he puffed away, trying to control his rising temper. Since learning of her pregnancy, the woman's claws had sharpened, wanting Elizabeth to be dispensed with much sooner than he had a mind to as he enjoyed sharing a bed with the chit. Something which perplexed him greatly.

"She may well have a touch of madness. Pray tell, what woman doesn't? But right now, she is unwell with a fever."

The woman scowled at him and he shook his head, wishing she would leave him well alone.

"Yes—but she could take a turn for the worse due to her sudden illness. It can happen, Charles. It would make it easier in the long run."

Despite the woman's outward perfection, underneath there lay more than a hint of malice, which he had no care for. He wondered—and not for the first time—how her husband died.

"Madam, be careful of your words. While I have sought to punish Elizabeth, it is with the hope she will see the error of her impulsive ways. She is still my wife."

His mistress walked away, fanning herself, and sat down in the armchair farthest away from the fire. "How could I possibly forget? But now I am with child and increasing daily. What are you going to do about her?"

Before he could answer, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

Grateful for the reprieve, he made a note to request that Rowena return to London. It was impossible having both women under the same roof. Not that he had asked her to visit with him; she had insisted. Well, he would insist she leave to allow him to attend to matters here.

"Yes, Enid, what is the matter?"

The housekeeper fumbled with her hands and glanced over at the Lady Rowena before staring back at him. "Sir, there is a woman here to see you. She's a Roma."

"Good Lord, Charles, what on earth does a woman like that want with you? Tell her to go at once, Enid."

Charles stood and moved away from the desk to peer out the window to see whether he could catch a glance of the woman, intrigued as to what she wanted. "Rowena, the last time I checked, I was master at Tregowen and you are not its mistress. Please, be excused, for I fear you are tired in your condition."

_Instructing his staff in his presence?_ She had overstepped herself and he didn't like it one bit.

"But Charles..."

But he lifted his hand to prevent her from saying anything further, demonstrating quite clearly his annoyance at her interference. She nodded and left the room, slamming the door. He flinched at her noisy departure and glanced over at Enid.

"Show the woman in."

"Very good, sir."

When she didn't move, he peered at her. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, sir. Lady Elizabeth—ought we call for the doctor? She's barely able to keep anything down and has had a fever now for the past two days."

He hung his head and rubbed the rug with his boot, wondering whether there was the slightest chance Elizabeth could be pregnant. "Continue as you are for now. If she is still unwell on the morrow, I will call for the doctor."

"As you wish."

Enid left the room and a short while later returned, showing an exotic woman the likes of which he had seen at many a whorehouse into his office. Not wanting the housekeeper privy to the conversation, he dismissed her at once. He watched the woman play with her many gold bracelets as she wandered around the room, eyeing up the artwork and artifacts on display, no doubt pricing each item and weighing up his worth.

He poured himself a brandy. "Would you like one?"

The woman walked closer to stand a short distance from him and helped herself to his glass, knocking the liquor back in one gulp. Assessing her curvaceous assets, he acknowledged she was quite something.

"Do you have a name?"

"Not one I'm willing to share with you. But I have information I know you would be willing to pay handsomely for."

_Blackmail._ The notion that this woman of the streets, a beggar and common whore, could possibly know something of value made him reach for another glass. He poured a stiff measure and swallowed the fine brandy, making her wait.

"What could you possibly know that would be of interest to me?" He slid down in his chair, holding the glass between his hands.

She slid between him and the desk, leaning there in front of him, playing with her long black hair. "Well, I thought you might be interested to learn where your wife goes when you're not at home?"

Charles sat up straight and peered closer at the girl, trying to gauge whether she spoke the truth and what it would cost him. "And what do you want in return?"

The woman leaned forward, pressing her hands on his knees and giving him a full view of her well-endowed breasts. "Enough money to keep my mouth shut."

She had no idea who she was dealing with, but he played along. "I'm sure we can come to some arrangement. As you see, I'm a man of means."

The Roma nodded and leaned back, surveying the room once more. "You must promise me that my people will be safe too."

"Of course, you have my word. Now, my time is limited. Please explain what it is that would be of interest."

She smiled and pushed away from the desk, strolling around. She lifted one ornament up after another, examining each unique piece before she started her tale. As the words flowed freely from her full lips, his rage flared until he squeezed his fist tight as if throttling his wife with his hand. _How could she deceive him? Was she carrying this Raven's child?_ Unable to contain his rage, he shot up out of his seat.

"Get out—get out, I tell you! And if you think you will get a penny out of me, you are very mistaken. Now leave before I set the hounds on you! Mark my words—if I find you or any of your kind nearby, I will arrest you all."

"Why, you bastard—you gave your word."

"I do not bow down to blackmail or to a common whore."

The woman launched at him, digging her claws in and scratching his cheek. But he lifted his hand and smacked her across the face, sending her flying to the floor. Blood dripped from her lips.

Charles collected some loose coins from the table and threw them at her. "I could have you hung for that. Now get out."

He wiped his cheek with a handkerchief from his pocket as the woman scrambled to pick up the coins. When she passed him, she grabbed the decanter of brandy and exited the room. Charles marched after her to ensure she left the house. Standing in the now silent hallway, his hands shook as he raised his head to look upstairs. _Could the foul woman speak the truth?_ He thumped his fist into the wooden paneling and cried out in pain.
Chapter 18

Charles questioned the staff and interrogated all the men at the stables, offering them money if they revealed any information that would help him in his quest to discover Elizabeth's guilt. He had not wished to kill her horse. He merely commanded her compliance. It would not look good if he couldn't control his wife. Not as a prestigious member of Parliament, not to mention the Elusti. Each organization would judge him for her scandalous behavior. It had been his belief that once she was carrying his child, she would settle and be accepting of her life at Tregowen. Now, he wanted the woman gone if the Roma's words proved true. He grabbed the young boy and swung him off his feet.

"Tell me, boy, or so help me, I'll thrash you from here to kingdom come. Did you see my wife talking with anyone from the stables?"

The boy twisted in the older man's clasp, puffing and panting but not speaking a word, until the head groom of the stables walked in.

"Sir Charles—let the lad go. He knows nothing. But I saw Lady Elizabeth once or twice chatting with Barnaby."

He released the boy, who spat at his feet and darted away before he could give him a slap. Raking his hands through his hair, he composed himself and inhaled a deep breath to control his actions. To act without a plan would achieve only failure.

"Where is this Barnaby now?" he asked.

"Gone, Sir Charles, I believe. I paid 'im his wages and he said he was moving on."

He peered at the head groom, trusting his word but wondered why this Raven would move on at this time of year when it was unlikely he would find work elsewhere. Winter had been long and looked to continue for some time.

He left the stables and charged upstairs, striding into his wife's dark bedroom. Opening the curtain to allow him to view inside the room, he searched her cupboards and drawers. Next, he searched her dressing table and accidentally knocked a wooden box to the floor, where several baubles spilled out. He spied a gold bracelet he had not given her. It was rather large and not the sort of trinket he would buy. He touched the large glass stones and the center one popped open. Inside, there was a note.

Raven, you may never read this, and if that is the case, it is because you are safe. Forgive me. My foolish heart is with you now—always.

Charles read the note over and over, before scrunching it in his hands. He would destroy the Roma. Right now, he needed to decide what to do with Elizabeth, who stirred restlessly in bed. He stepped closer and grabbed the bottle of laudanum from the table, pouring a large quantity onto a spoon. This would keep her pliant and quiet until he came up with a plan. Lifting her head, he tipped the medicine through her lips and the woman swallowed. Letting her fall back against the pillow, he smoothed her forehead. The fever had broken. In a day or two, she would be back to normal. He strode away, searching for his manservant and the maid.

By the next day, he had word that the wench who came to his house to blackmail him was in custody and the man he sought had been found drinking in a local tavern. His plan took shape after that. All he needed was to get his wife to the inn and get witnesses to testify to her adulterous behavior. He sent word to the duke, requesting his audience and stressing his concern regarding his wife's conduct. The rest, he would leave in the Elusti's hand.

Charles wrapped Elizabeth in a bed sheet.

"Bring her dress and the medicine. She will need more to keep her asleep for the journey."

"Where are you taking milady, Sir Charles?" Enid asked as he strode downstairs.

"I am taking her to the hospital. I think you are right. She needs medical attention and I intend to see she receives it."

"I see—will she require any of her belongings to be sent with her?"

He glanced at the woman, wishing this was over. He handed Elizabeth to the butler, who carried his wife out to the carriage.

"As you see, my wife is gravely ill. She may never return. Her possessions will not help her now."

He marched out of the house and once in the carriage, the butler lay Elizabeth across his lap, barely rousable. Staring at her delicate features, his cheek muscle flinched. But there was no going back. This way, he would be free of her for good and free of any sympathy for what would become of her.

~~*~~

Hearing his name, he opened his eyes. But a thumping pain in the back of his head and side stopped him moving as he studied the purple bruise above his hip. Feeling the back of his head, his fingers ran over a wet, sticky lump. Leaning on his elbow and shifting onto his side, the memories from the previous night revisited as he stared at the small back of a woman lying next to him on the rickety bed. He had been at the Rose and Dove, where he had been holed up for the last day, trying to force himself to leave the area and head north for Scotland. After Elizabeth had left him to return to her husband days ago, he thought he could carry on and let her go. But when Sabina barged back into his wagon hours later, he couldn't hide his feelings any longer.

"Has she gone, Raven? It's a mistake to take me for a fool. That woman is no whore—she's Lady Elizabeth."

He splashed cold water from the bowl over his face and grabbed his shirt, lifting it over his head to face the woman he had promised to take as his wife. He studied the exotic beauty who faced him, feeling nothing but sadness.

"Sabina—"

She smacked him hard across the cheek and lifted her hand to smack him again, but he caught her wrist.

"Enough—she's gone."

"But—it isn't over, is it? I sense it. I sensed it with the two of you. Even if you don't say the words, I know you love her. I heard you the other day, and I've seen the way your eyes follow her when she's around. No one else exists."

Raven let her go, shocked at the woman's fury and jealousy. He wondered how to right things between them. Unsure he could, for she spoke the truth. Elizabeth's leaving didn't change anything. He drove his hand through his hair and closed his eyes, lowering his head.

"I already planned for us to move north. We will leave and get married in the spring as planned. Nothing has changed..." Sighing, he rubbed his neck and met her unflinching stare. "What more do you want from me?"

Sabina backed away, tears swimming in her eyes and he covered his mouth; even the words he spoke were distasteful to him now.

"It's not enough. You _love her_. Every time you make love to me, you will think of her and what could have been." She sobbed, shaking her head. "Say it isn't true. Say you love me?"

Raven straightened up and sniffed, knowing the words he should say. His mother would insist he lie to Sabina, and if he did, he knew the Roma woman would accept what he said. He opened his mouth to give her what she wanted, but dipped his head, knowing she deserved his honesty.

"I can't."

She ran at him, thumping his chest, shaking like a wild woman and cursing him and Elizabeth. Raven held her arms, but, in the end, let her vent her anger until she stopped, exhausted.

"Sabina, listen—I can still make you happy. I can give you the life you want."

Her dark eyes widened, and she rubbed his cheek, studying his face intently, and sighed. "Yes, but what I want, you have given away, Raven. She owns your heart and in that we are both fated to be miserable, for I gave you mine a long time ago. All that is left is madness, but I agree—we should leave here. Perhaps in time you will forget her."

When Sabina left, he couldn't resist one last trip to Tregowen House. But he only reached the edge of the gardens where the maze started, hoping to catch one final glimpse of Elizabeth. When there was no sight of the woman, and reluctant to get any closer, he headed for the inn, intent on forgetting her.

Now, when his name escaped from the woman's lips next to him, the hairs along his neck rose. Shaking off the waves of dizziness, he forced his heavy eyes to clear. He leaned over the restless woman and stared at the ghostly vision before him.

His nostrils flared, and he slammed his fist into the wall. In all his life, he never had wanted to kill another person the way he wanted to kill her husband. Letting Elizabeth leave the other day proved to be the biggest mistake of his life. He knew what she suffered being with Sir Charles. At least if she was with him, she would know what love was. The beautiful siren who captured his heart lay there, a shadow of her former self. For days, he dreamed of making a life with her, but right now as he studied the sleeping beauty from head to toe as she barely breathed, he knew their being together was contrived and an act of wicked trickery. His hand shot out, resting over her cool one.

"Elizabeth—Elizabeth, wake up." He kissed her shoulder and shook her harder to rouse her. "Elizabeth."

She blinked several times until her eyes widened, highlighting dark-purple shadows beneath. As beautiful as she was, he couldn't fail to miss the frailty and air of sickness that lingered over her. Raven wasn't sure how lucid she was, but her weakness tore at him as she attempted to sit forward. As she struggled, he wrapped his arm around her back, helping her, and she gasped.

"It's you. You've been in every dream since I left you. I'm sorry—I lied to you, but I cannot bear it any longer. I need you to know. I love you, Raven. I didn't mean to. I didn't expect to, but I do." Elizabeth pressed her hand over his cheek, running her fingers over his lips and exploring his face, as if not believing it was him.

He kissed the tips of her fingers, wanting to take her away from this place to safety. But he feared they wouldn't get far. Her long chestnut hair fell all the way down her back and a little color flooded her cheeks. The image of her right now would remain imprinted in his brain forever.

"Are you a dream or is this real and we're here together—free?"

"Yes—this is real, very real, but we are not free, my angel. Whatever brought us here was not of our making. Are you able to stand?"

Raven searched the room for her clothes to at least cover the thin chemise she wore, but when he caught sight of a torn dress lying on the ground, his heart sank. They had been set up and there would be no escape, he was certain. He grabbed hold of her hand as she shifted in the bed, wanting to prepare her for what they faced as best he could. He held her face, staring into her blue eyes tinged with sadness.

"Elizabeth, you need to make yourself better. Do whatever you do to heal yourself—for me."

"I'm not sure I can—I'm so tired."

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "You _must_ try."

She focused her eyes on him and pressed her lips tight together but nodded. How he longed to kiss away her fears that shone at him from her glassy eyes.

"Charles—" she said on a strangled sob as she clutched her wrist. "My bracelet—I wrote a note to you."

He held her hand and squeezed it. "Shh, it matters naught. I'm here. Lean on me."

Sir Charles must have discovered the bracelet and orchestrated this setup. Hearing footsteps near the door, he knew their time together would be short. Holding her as she shifted to the edge of the bed, he watched as she pressed her hand to her temple and closed her eyes, praying she would summon the strength she needed to heal herself. Heavy boots stamped along the wooden floorboards outside. Any minute, they would be discovered—which had been the intention all along.

"Are you ready?"

Elizabeth peered at him with a weary smile. "Why don't you leave through the window right now and save yourself?"

Raven could not believe her words that spoke only of concern for him. He extended his hand to her. "Come stand beside me. No matter what takes place, Elizabeth, I'll not leave you again. I surrender to my fate."

He slid off the bed and helped her stand at his side, but she wobbled. He wrapped his arm around her tiny waist, feeling her tremble under his hand, and cursed Ariana. "Yesterday, I visited Tregowen hoping to catch a glimpse of you. I should've had the courage to seek you out. But I fear someone made other plans." He rubbed the lump at the base of his skull. "It doesn't matter, because whatever takes place, Elizabeth, know I love you with every beat of my heart."

Steady thumping bangs rang out on the door until it splintered and broke with force. A bunch of vagabonds charged into the room, brandishing pistols and waving wooden clubs. They didn't stand a chance. He stared into her blue eyes for a moment longer, knowing he could have escaped and saved himself. But he could no more leave her than change what would surely follow. Fate was their enemy. He only regretted not kissing her, for this was surely the end.

Raven roared as one of the men dragged him apart from Elizabeth, and the man kicked him in the back, but he punched him in the jaw. A fight ensued, and he fought each man who tackled him, fighting for their lives. But when he glanced at the tiny woman who owned him, heart and soul, he shouted at them. "Take me but let her go. She isn't well and none of this is of her making. I forced her. She is innocent in all of this," he pleaded.

The lowlifes studied each other, but the room fell silent as another man entered, dressed in fine clothes. _Sir Charles_. His pinched face and cold, beady eyes stared right through him, but his cheek twitched.

"How could you do this? Let her go. She's your wife, damn it—she's sick and does not deserve this, I beg of you. I plead not for myself, but I ask you to show her mercy."

The man standing before him flinched but stepped in front of him and slapped him across the face. "How dare you. Who are you, sir, pray tell? No—don't bother. I'm not interested. You're nothing but a guttersnipe and no gentleman, dressed in such rags. You're not worthy to speak to my wife and yet you have done far worse. Take him away. As for my _wife_ —she's no innocent in this scheme. Take her, too. She will see what happens when those of his ilk believe themselves to be equal."

Elizabeth screamed, "You bastard! Don't harm him. For all I have endured at your hand, I'm pleading with you for this man's freedom. You may do what you wish with me. But what you do before God and man is a grievous crime, and you, being a man of the law, know this is not how justice is served. Let him go."

" _Justice,_ madam?" Sir Charles pulled out the crumpled slip of paper and read her words out loud for all to hear. "'You may never read this, and if that is the case, it is because you are safe. Forgive me. My foolish heart is with you now—always...' Do you deny this is yours?"

Raven shouted, "Elizabeth...don't!"

As she studied him, a tender smile lit her face, and he knew she wouldn't.

"No—I do not deny it," she said, professing her love.

"It is clear to me and before these witnesses you have been cavorting with this scoundrel like some common whore. You have chosen your fate, both of you, and I wipe my hands of you. Justice will be served. Take them both."

Raven glanced over his shoulder as Elizabeth slumped against the men who dragged her away. He managed to free himself, determined to grab Charles to force him to free her, but a heavy blow to his skull knocked him to the ground, unconscious.

When he woke, the frigid air hit him, and the full moon stared down upon him in the gray-walled courtyard he didn't recognize. He jerked violently and his arms were wrenched from his sockets. A hulk of a man dressed in a brown leather tunic flicked the long, thin whip across his exposed back, slicing the skin open. Blood dripped down. Waves of pain assaulted him but each stroke of the lash he absorbed, refusing to cry out. After repeated beatings, he learned how to let his soul wander above, switching off his nerve endings and numbing the sting of the whip. _Is this the gift Ariana spoke of?_

But a soft whisper of his name on the breeze lifted his head, and he twisted his torso, watching as two men dragged a disheveled and dazed Elizabeth forward with blood dripping from her mouth. A heavy guttural roar tore from his throat and he tugged the ropes that bound him to the wooden posts.

To torture him, he accepted—but her?

He would kill them all.

The bastards marched Lady Elizabeth next to him and forced her to the ground on her knees. They untied the shackles from his wrists and shoved him toward her. The guards left the courtyard, leaving only the man with the whip. Standing there without support, his legs gave way and he fell in a crumbled heap next to her. Gathering all the strength he could, he pushed himself up and cupped her chin with his bloodied hand, lifting her face until their mouths were a breath away from each other. _Just one kiss_.

Crawling the last precious inches, he closed the gap between them. Raven pressed his lips over hers softly, thirsty for her, and shut the world out, savoring the feel of her. He clasped her tight against his naked chest, wincing at the pain in his back but wanting her to feel his love for her at last. Breaking the kiss, he stroked her jaw and peered into her eyes.

"Elizabeth, can you forgive me? I should have made love to you that day in the water, where you were reckless and carefree. I was scared but never again. I knew you lied to me that day you left. Your love shined right at me from your eyes. I always saw the truth there, like now. I love you."

"There's nothing to forgive, and I love you—now and always."

Raven stared at her for a second before he jumped and swung around to make a last attempt at gaining their freedom, heading for the man who stood alone. But a single shot exploded from the shadows, knocking him to the ground. He stared ahead, knowing his mother's prediction rang true.

A scream sounded behind him, and he hated the thought of leaving Elizabeth. He twisted, stretching his hand toward her. " _There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable,_ " he whispered just before his heart stopped beating.
Chapter 19

Elizabeth heard Raven quote Wordsworth in his final moments and those precious words would remain with her forever. _There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable._ She would endure whatever came to pass from here on in because she knew Raven loved her as she did him. Nothing would change that. She crawled to his side, clutching his hand and pressing herself over him in an attempt to restore life into his still body. Desperate to heal him with her hands as they examined each wound.

"It's true—the witch is trying to bring him back to life."

A man laughed as she wailed and screamed until a blow to her temple rendered her unconscious. After that, they plied her with a cocktail of drugs, rendering her either delirious or asleep. When they roused her, she faced two familiar men: the Viscount of Warwick and the duke. Both wore unnerving faces, at odds with their fine gentleman's clothing with their white shirts folded to their elbows. The sting from the cat-o-nine tails was still raw on her back from repeated lashings.

The vampire glanced back at the duke, frowning. "Is it really necessary to administer such medieval torture? You really are the devil. Leave me with her for a while and I'll have what you want," Gabriel said.

The taller man sniffed and wiped his brow with a handkerchief, replacing it in his pocket and examining her.

She closed her eyes, refusing to say anything.

"I need a confession, Gabriel. You started this; see that it is finished. Or she can rot in the asylum. I care not either way. But I need some air."

As soon as the door closed, the vampire flew to her side and pressed his cold fingers along the open vertical wounds along her exposed back.

"Elizabeth, show me how you heal. Work your magic, and I'll protect you. This way, you will survive."

She may have been blind and naïve when she first met the vampire but not any longer. She saw his blatant infatuation staring at her through his cold, unblinking eyes—not with her as a woman but for the power she possessed. A laugh escaped her despite her predicament, but she cared nothing for his offer.

"You have already killed me, sir. You all have. Just finish the job, for my life and reason for living ended the minute Raven died. Nothing you say or do will change that."

The vampire caught her chin and squeezed it to face him, even when her heavy eyelids begged to close. She knew even if she could restore the damage they had inflicted on her body, she would be a prisoner for the rest of her life. If not with Charles, then with the vampire. She would not give him the satisfaction or power.

"You foolish woman! If only you had fulfilled your promise and let me drink from you. None of this would have happened. My curiosity would have been quenched, and I would have saved you from the likes of Sir Charles, something Raven could not."

Her anger exploded, and she twisted around to grab his wrist, digging her nails in, her shackles no longer holding her in place. "You—you are the reason for this?"

He glared at her and flew away to stand at the perimeter of the room as she watched him, his face set like stone. Gone was any semblance of charm or friendship.

"We live in dangerous times, you and I, my dear. I've been around for centuries and as such, I am aware of those who seek to do us harm. Joining the Elusti, an organization that takes the law into its own hands, was my way of keeping a close eye on my enemy. Outwardly, its rules may be seen to assist the law; covertly, they hunt those who are _different_. Those who have power they crave more than money. Your husband doesn't know this, but he knows enough, and called on the duke for his assistance with you. You see—you are quite a problem. An errant wife, who will not comply, who has secret liaisons with the Roma. One, I might add, who has magic in her veins. But you spurned me, and I dislike being disrespected by a mere woman. You only have yourself to blame, really. In delivering you, I ensure the vampires continue to thrive unnoticed. It is called survival, my dear."

Rage erupted through her veins and filled her with an energy she lacked these last several days. "You bastard. You're a traitor—I could expose you for what you are."

He flew from the wall and gripped her throat, digging his sharp nails in her flesh. "Do you imagine they would believe a single word you say, my dear? My talents go way beyond my speed. I can make them forget in the blink of an eye. Remove thoughts from their puny minds or introduce notions they never had while draining them of blood. I detest humans, but unfortunately this planet is overflowing with them. I wanted you because you're unique. But, alas, you're far too stubborn to control. I cannot gain your compliance like the humans, and I fear you're too much trouble."

Gabriel released her and stepped back, eyeing the door. "I wish it could be another way, but if I'm right—we'll meet again."

The vampire disappeared, and two other men entered the room. She struggled to free herself as they caught her wrists and restrained her, but the energy she created deserted her. The whip cracked the air, and she screamed out as pain tore through her skin, burning her back.

"Confess to your powers and tell them where your people are. They'll let you live."

Let your soul take flight, Elizabeth. Be with me.

Raven's voice whispered to her, but she didn't believe it. He was dead. He couldn't help her. She writhed in agony as the whip lashed across her back, tearing the soft layers apart—stinging and burning. The torture went on for hours. Elizabeth suffered repeated dunkings in the filthy river while tied and bound to a chair. She was submerged into freezing water until she almost drowned. The final degradation came as she lay stretched upon a large wooden table as she faced a variety of men, including the duke.

"A witness reported you healed a fox. How is that possible?"

Gabriel had been the only witness. Various pointed tools were plunged into her nails and she screamed out. Sharp instruments were stabbed into her battered body, and she closed her eyes. _Elizabeth, it's time to leave this life. Let your soul take flight. I'm here waiting for you. Come to me_.

Standing in the distance stood Raven, with his hand extended toward her. This couldn't be real, but she reached her hand out, wanting it more than life itself. With that, the room she had been held a prisoner in vanished. Instead, she stood in their magical haven, deep in the enchanted woods next to the pool of water, her hand entwined in his. Despite knowing Raven lay dead, she accepted the perfect vision before her. The Roma never looked more breathtakingly handsome as he cocked his head to the side and casually smiled. He reeled her in against his hard chest, leaving no space between them. His heat fired deep inside her veins and she stroked her hands over his chest, feeling his firm muscles in wonder.

" _How is this possible_?" she said in a hushed voice, as if scared he would vanish.

Raven sighed and pressed his forehead over hers. "I begged Ariana to let me help you."

Elizabeth let her hand explore his flesh, pressing herself as close as she could, never wanting to let go. Memories of the past faded. All the hurt and pain Charles caused evaporated. In response, her heart hammered out of control inside her chest. Raven leaned in and kissed her with such reverence. She quickly lost control, wrapping her hands around his neck in a frenzy once she realized the truth. But he stopped his tentative kisses, pressing his hands on her shoulders to hold her; he stepped back and took a deep breath.

"Don't—please don't stop. Don't leave me. I need you," she cried.

He caught and held her hands. "Don't be scared. Death isn't the end. It's merely the beginning of what comes next. We'll meet again, and next time, Elizabeth—be ready, because I will not hold back. I will claim you. I love you."

Tears fell, and Elizabeth knew these were her final moments in this fleeting life. Standing adrift, her heartbeat slowed, and the fear she carried inside slipped away. There was nothing left except to savor every second of the man who held her in his arms. She tangled her hands in his thick hair, kissing his lips and tasting him. She clung to him, digging her nails in, desperate for more as he slid his tongue over hers, stirring her crazy with desire.

In his arms, she was safe and loved. He was the only home she ever needed. Her heart slowed... _beat...beat...beat_. Dragging him close, she cupped his face with both hands and stared long into his dark, mesmerizing eyes, seeing her reflection in them as he rubbed her back in a soothing rhythm. "Don't forget me, Raven."

He brushed his thumb over her cheek and across her lips, caressing her as his eyes roamed over every inch of her face. "How can I forget you? You reside in here." He pressed her hand over his heart. In her young life, she did not have any choice who she married, and lost hope of finding love.

"It was always you—you held my heart prisoner, Raven, from the very first moment we met." She never expected to find the right man, but in Raven—she discovered it all. Gazing around the woods, a startling golden vision of daffodils appeared, carpeting the ground, swaying and bowing their heads before her in the gentle breeze. " _All at once I saw a crowd, a host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze,_ " she whispered, unafraid as death claimed her, and her soul lifted away.

THE END

CHAPTER 1

Ella handed the taxi driver the folded bills, replaced her wallet back inside her elegant ivory and diamanté studded purse, and snapped it closed. She clutched it tightly in her sweaty hand as she stepped onto the empty sidewalk and shivered not only from the brisk coolness of the wintry night that greeted her but from an ever-present need to watch the ghostly shadows. As a five-hundred-year-old soul-shifter, being alert ensured her survival. She had learned a long time ago—after discovering she was the last of her kind from the clan of Ariana, Moon Goddess—to be prepared for anything.

With a deep breath, she stepped forward. Being a soul-shifter with magic filling her veins, there were perks for sure, but this was her fifth life, and if legend proved true, the end was in sight. She sensed it. With each life, new queens, kings, and presidents ruled, and she remembered them all. Each moment of death or torture was tattooed on her brain. Memories she'd sooner forget of how each lover or husband betrayed her were clearly imprinted on her heart.

It was therefore ironic to Ella that her continued existence depended upon finding her Mr. Perfect soul mate. Without him, the next time her life ended, she wouldn't experience that moment of clarity as all her lives merged into absolute silence in her body, and then, as if taking a deep pause, she breathed once more, reborn and like a butterfly, the transformation startling!

No, this time it would be eternal darkness unless she found true love. But as every man in her life to date was in some way responsible for her previous deaths, rushing to find him hadn't been a priority.

As she pulled her long, black velvet coat tighter to protect her scantily clad body from the cool night air, she glanced right and left and inhaled the air. Aidan, her sort-of boyfriend, had arranged an impromptu dinner date, which was not like him at all. Usually, he was too busy with work as a professor of archeology at the Andover museum, with his head buried in some ancient textbook or scroll for anything remotely romantic, which was fine because they didn't have a typical relationship, to say the least. Ella pushed down the sleek silver handle on the tall glass door and walked straight up to the mahogany front desk. A pretty brunette greeted her with a warm smile and direct eye contact.

Ella tried to relax, offered a smile back and gave her name as the woman perused the guest list and nodded. As her gaze lifted away, Ella's eyes wandered around the overflowing and busy restaurant. The heat and array of conversations swirled around and stifled her for a second but a waving of frantic hands drew attention to the center of the room.

Aidan's frowning and bespectacled face studied her from his table directly in the middle of the popular Italian bistro as the smell of garlic and tomatoes surrounded her. For a moment, their eyes met. His steel-gray eyes narrowed, and before she took a step, he pushed his chair back, leapt up and strode toward her impatiently. His gaze, directed only on her, was stern and unemotional. Ella wished she had stayed home, instantly sensing tonight wasn't going to end well. Aidan, tall and with a slim build, towered over her as he gave a brief brotherly hug and dropped a perfunctory kiss to each cheek before he placed his hand in the small of her back to lead her to their table.

"You're late, so I've already ordered to save time."

Ella sighed and peered at him in an attempt to gauge his mood. They rarely dined out alone; not knowing the reason for the sudden night out, she had taken extra care in choosing her outfit—a rather sexy, revealing dress. The short black lacy dress fitted her curves and now as the heat climbed into her cheeks, she wondered why on earth she had bothered. Her usually swept-up and tied-back into a severe chignon hair was left loose and tousled, but Aidan's pale, gaunt face bespoke an impatience to get the meal over with. She frowned, wondering why he had even suggested a restaurant or for that matter, why she had agreed; they didn't have that type of relationship. She opened her mouth to say she was leaving, but stopped, staring at the dark, handsome man with a strong square jaw in the far corner. A twinkle of recognition made her stare longer than normal, but the man in question was in shadow and her vision of him was not clear. He didn't move in her direction, oblivious of her perusal, intent on the menu and in full conversation with someone on his cell. Shaking her head and dismissing him, she looked away.

"Ella, you're not listening to me. I've ordered some antipasti and Cacciucco."

She swallowed. The thought of fish stew left her wiping her hand over her mouth and she forced a wave of nausea down. Something was definitely off, and she prayed it was only the fish.

Aidan loosened his collar and pulled his tie down, as if uncomfortable. His conversation rambled and his voice sped up like a runaway train. Ella noticed his temple beaded with a dewy sheen. He was nervous. He was never nervous.

A need to escape rose over her so quickly that she pushed away from the table, scraping her chair on the floor, and stood up but froze as the diners around her stared at her. Aidan leaned forward and clamped his hand down on hers, bringing her attention back to him.

"Ella. Forgive me. I'm sorry...I confess, I'm a little nervous. May I say how lovely you look tonight? I don't think I've seen you in a dress before. Please forgive my impatience. I brought you here because I have something I _must_ talk to you about. But forgive me—where are my manners? Please, have a glass of wine. It will help us both relax." He sat back, released her hand and removed his glasses to wipe them with his microfiber cloth.

Ella looked at his face, which softened as their eyes met. She sat back down, not wanting to make a scene and wondering what he wanted to discuss with her that could make him so on edge. A glass of wine might settle whatever jitters he had and she nodded before she glanced back over her shoulder at the man she had stared at earlier but who now was absent.

"Are you all right, Ella?"

Ella turned back to face him and sighed. "A glass of wine would be lovely, and then you can tell me what's going on."

****

Hours later, Ella blinked as rays of golden sunlight streamed down upon her face and warmed her cheeks. Birds chirped merrily around her. _What on earth?_ The last thought in her mind was that Aidan was being impatient in the restaurant but beyond that, there was nothing. Normally when Ella woke it was in a soft bed, with the aroma of coffee wafting up from the kitchen and Aidan was there, but she shivered as the cold blast of air hit her shoulders.

Ella peered at a blurry view of a distorted world and what looked like skyscrapers were tall, leafy trees. Lying on her side on the cold and damp earth with grass stuck to her lips wasn't helping her feel any better. She lifted her head, and shook it to clear her mind and vision. Pushing her hand into the moist, spongy earth to force her body up, needing to move, but a wave of bile rose up and the dizziness stopped her. In the distance, water gurgled, and instantly she knew she needed its healing energy to clear her confusion.

Allowing the dizziness to settle and the nausea to pass, she tried to recall last night but without result. Usually, those last moments of her life remained etched in her brain, but as she pressed her fingers to her temple, there was nothing. Right now, the black scraps of materials that had once been her dress wasn't covering her well and she was in the middle of a forest, with no recollection as to how she ended up there. Frosty kisses from the early-morning breeze touched her bare shoulders as she clamped her arms around her shaking body, and pain coursed through her.

When she removed her hands from her waist, she stared at them trembling and turned them back and forth. Dried blood covered them. Biting her lip, she let her gaze roam over the rest of her body to study the trail of dark bruises and screaming red welts that littered her pale skin. A hazy image of a furious Aidan flashed through her mind and screams surrounded her.

"What did you do, Aidan?" she whispered to the wind, as if it would answer.

Needing to move, Ella pushed herself off the grass quickly, but her legs wobbled and threatened to give out. Grabbing the nearest tree next to her to lean on, she retched and emptied the contents of her stomach. Ella clawed the bark of the tree with her fingernails for support, and a wave of energy sizzled through her veins like caffeine. Her vision cleared and she had enough strength to stand. After she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, Ella moved toward the stream, which was mere feet away. Clean, invigorating water was exactly what she needed to revive her, and to know whether she had changed.

On weak and wobbly legs, she staggered toward the water. None of this made sense. Ella was usually prepared, but last night was a complete blank. Each step increased the pain throughout her body; even breathing hurt. It was as if she had fought in a great battle and lost. White dots danced merrily before her eyes.

_Just get to the water and drink_.

Ella pushed forward to the edge of the stream, but her legs finally gave way, and she dropped to her knees. Leaning over, she stared at the ripples of water and her reflection.

"Ow." She moved her jaw and lifted her hand to examine her face.

She traced an outline of a large, black bruise on her cheek with her fingers and winced. Dried blood congealed by her nose, and her mousey hair was a wild mass. One eye was swollen and as she peered downward; a collection of dark polka dots decorated her neck. She lifted her gaze and sighed as she stared into familiar dark eyes. She was still Ella Masters.

Despite looking battered, and as though she'd been raised by wolves, she was alive—at least for now. Sitting back on her haunches, she glanced down, and followed a succession of bruises on her arm that resembled fingerprints. Ella ran her hand over them as an ugly memory roared to life.

An angry face loomed into view. Turbulent gray irises, like a stormy ocean, gazed at her. There was no warmth in his expression; he pulled his mouth into a narrow line and gripped her wrists so tightly they hurt. Ella twisted and pulled at them, but he wasn't letting her go. A cry escaped her lips. "Aidan."

The memory vanished, and Ella shook her head. They had been fighting. That alone was not unusual, but why was she terrified? Her glance roamed all over her body for clues. Her lungs stung as she breathed, and a large purple bruise on her torso confirmed the reason. Maybe a broken rib; she couldn't be sure. What was certain was that these weren't just sparring injuries. Had Aidan tried to kill her?

She closed her eyes, inhaled a deep breath, and began to visualize each injury. Ella could see several cracked ribs, a small open wound at the back of her head, and bruises on her back, legs, and arms. As she observed the injuries, her warm blood soared toward them. Her hands moved impatiently around her body to apply pressure. As her fingers connected with the broken bone or wound, an immense internal energy flowed toward it. Her body glowed as her healing spirit worked on her injuries. Ella's breathing increased and became more rapid, until at last her body sagged.

Most of the pain eased, and her wounds started to heal. Some injuries would take longer than others, but at least she could move. Her body trembled with the exertion, but she closed her eyes, and willed herself to remember last night. _Pain._ All she could sense was pain. She wondered why she couldn't recall the night clearly.

As a soul-shifter with nearly five hundred years' worth of memories—memories she'd sooner forget of how each lover or husband betrayed her—she remembered their smiles, their gentle words of love. However, last night was lost to her.

There was nothing.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. The pain eased and in its place, a blazing anger rose. Someone betrayed her. The wind swept the leaves off the ground and they rose high into the air to dance around her. She clutched her bare right wrist, and rubbed the skin where the amulet had once been. The skin was whiter than the rest, as she always wore it. The innocuous-looking amulet was her only link to her people and her means of escape. Now it was gone, and she was alone. The gauzy wisp of material that had been her dress was ripped to shreds and covered in dirt. Her fingers touched the torn edges of the material and she stared into the distance, blinking as an old memory shook her.

" _Come here, before I come and get you." Aidan's voice was deep and hoarse. His piercing eyes glared into hers, and she looked back as she contemplated her options. She glanced toward the door; if she moved, he would grab her. She could try to seduce him. However, that would be hopeless with Aidan. No, the only way was to trick him._

Aidan inched closer. So close, she could smell his musky aftershave. Ella let him get closer still. Let him think he had won. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs, but still she waited, barely breathing. Aidan inched closer, his eyes never leaving her face.

" _Are you ready to admit defeat?" He raised one eyebrow, and his mouth spread into a lazy smile._

" _Never, Professor." She flicked her leg outward and kicked as hard as possible, just like he had taught her._

" _What the..." He fell to the ground, doubled over and clutched his stomach._

Sucking on her lower lip, she hesitated before she turned away. That split second of doubt was her undoing. Arms came from nowhere and grabbed her legs. Whoosh. The view of the room shifted, and the floor went from under her feet. She ended up flat on her back, with Aidan's body impaling her to the floor.

" _Never trust the enemy," he said._

She spluttered and coughed as the memory swirled away. Professor Aidan O'Connor was an enigma: a historian, friend, pretend-lover, and expert at martial arts. He'd taught her how to use her body as a weapon.

"But last night wasn't practice, was it? Aidan, what have you done?"

Staring at the crystal-clear water, she dipped her head to submerge it and the shocking coolness washed over her. Moments later, she jerked her head back, raising it out of the water, and shook it to let her long, wet tresses cascade down her back. Ella jumped up and was pleased the world didn't swirl around.

_I have to_ _find the amulet. Which means I have to go back_.

The wind moaned through the trees, and the breeze pushed her onward. One foot lifted in front of the other, and before she knew it, she sprinted effortlessly through the forest. Oblivious of the stray branches and bushes that whipped against her skin, she continued to push through. Even the screeching birds were ignored. She simply kept running. Running was freedom, a lesson she had learned many times. The wind was hers to beckon, and it helped her by clearing the way and cushioning her weight as it carried her forward. Until a small log cabin came into view.

****

"Christ, what the fucking hell is going on down there?" Jackson shouted.

Marcus sighed. The shit had hit the proverbial fan in the last twelve hours, and now his boss, Philip Jackson, was breathing fire at him down the phone, blaming him for this mess. The man sounded permanently angry, but today he'd hit an all-time high. From his first meeting with his boss Jackson, nicknamed the Controller _,_ Marcus knew he was trouble. He reeked of intolerance. His gray eyes and face looked like the ash from the tip of his cigarette that was permanently wedged in his mouth. He looked much older than his fifty-seven years, and rot had settled in. At least that was what he sensed. Marcus had heard the rumors about the burnt-out senior who'd simply gone crazy after his wife's death and had felt some sympathy toward the man, but now he suspected he was reaching for the bottle far too often, and was a ticking time bomb.

Marcus knew when he was moved into Jackson's team that his career was going nowhere fast. And who could blame the powers at the bureau? He was labeled a risk taker, not a team player. He suspected he was onboard a sinking bloody ship. Well, he would be damned if he was going to go down. Jackson promised that if he brought in Ella Masters, then he would get the team leader position, with his own crew in New York. He'd worked hard, and had put up with a truckload of tedious assignments and all because he wanted this promotion. It was all he wanted.

Shit, and now it had exploded in his face.

Marcus took a deep breath to stay calm. "I'm sorry, sir."

He ran his hand through his unruly mop of thick, dark hair, and rubbed his chin where stubble formed a nice five o'clock shadow. In truth—and he couldn't admit this to his boss—he didn't know what the hell had happened. He'd been working this latest assignment for around four months working undercover as Nate Williams, the new manager at the Ultimate Perk, a local coffee shop. It was a track, observe, and when requested, extract the target. Simple. At least it should have been. Ella Masters, alias the Witch, was on the surface a young preschool teacher, with no exemplary achievements. Nothing smacked out of the ordinary. Except that she was on the FBI's Most Wanted list. She had no priors, zip. For four months, he'd been babysitting, and all of a sudden it went berserk. He'd scoffed when he'd first been given the assignment and the overwhelming non-information in her file. When he'd questioned the insignificant details, requesting more on her background and priors—of which there was none—Jackson told him in no uncertain terms to, "Stop looking for problems and do the job you're paid to do. Don't balls this up."

Marcus rubbed his temple; his job was to investigate the truth, no matter where that might lead. His boss had serious problems, and he didn't trust him one bit, but Marcus didn't want to dig too deep. He just wanted to get the job done, so he could go to New York and catch real criminals. Marcus stared at the bare cream walls of his apartment and relayed the events of the night again.

"I was watching them eat in the New Seasons restaurant. They ate and left. The professor looked uneasy and all the while Ella was distracted, fussing with her hair and not really looking at him. At one point, their voices rose and it sounded like they were arguing but they still left in a taxi together. I followed them back to Ella's house. At first it was quiet, but it wasn't long before it turned nasty. I did my usual perimeter check, and it was quiet. I circled round the back, but by the time I reached the front of the house, she was yelling at him. I listened, but their voices were muffled. There was interference on my listening device and the sound kept breaking up. I only managed to catch snatches of the conversation. As I watched them, the atmosphere tensed and he started shaking her. She was struggling and there was silence. The professor gripped her shoulder, and smacked her across the face. I was about to intervene, but some son-of-a-bitch knocked me out cold."

Jackson started to reel off a long list of complaints, and Marcus shook his head. From the moment he'd arrived back at Ella's house, his gut told him something wasn't right. He should have simply marched in there and taken her, there and then. Instead, Marcus took his eyes off the target and ran another sweep of the perimeter. He'd messed up big-time. Marcus's intuition was telling him that he was being played, even though he had no proof—just his sixth sense, and he didn't like what it was telling him one bit.

If there was another agent there, then why wasn't he told? If it wasn't an agent, then who and why didn't they help Ella?

Marcus scratched his head.

"Are you listening, Drayton? I've had enough of your _incompetence_..."

Marcus stared out his long window. "Yes, sir, I understand." He walked over to the large wooden dresser, opened a drawer and picked up a picture of Ella, staring hard at it.

Where are you?

His fingers traced her heart-shaped face. Her face was scrubbed free of makeup, making her look young and innocent. After being knocked unconscious, Marcus had woken to discover the professor battered to death. There was blood spatter all over. During his time as a Navy SEAL, he had seen plenty of harrowing scenes, but the thought that this petite and seemingly defenseless woman could bludgeon to death a man until he was unrecognizable was the reason he had emptied the contents of his stomach. He simply could not believe that she was responsible. The last image Marcus saw was of Ella crashing to the ground, after that bastard's hand walloped her. There was also the fact that there were several unaccounted-for hours. The only possible explanation was that he'd been drugged. As he rubbed the whiskers on his jaw, he stared at Ella's picture. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to keep those hours free from interruption and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

Jackson's voice bellowed through the phone.

"Well, you'd better fucking sort this out and quick. Headquarters is looking for your blood. You were told to bring her in _last week_. I gave you the extra time, and the crazy bitch kills her lover. Jesus, I'm not going down for this. Do you hear me?" There was silence.

Marcus knew without a doubt, had always known when push came to shove, he was on his own.

"Yes, sir, loud and clear." He pressed End on his cell. "Jerk."

Marcus had a clear picture of Ella Masters in his head. She definitely was not his type. He preferred blondes, for a start. Her mousey hair was forgettable, like all her features. He mostly thought her plain and ordinary. Her eyes were a muddy brown or hazel—it was hard to know for sure behind the thick glasses she wore. But her smile: something about her smile made you stare. It had taken weeks of small talk, and careful planning to ensure that only Marcus served her, before he glimpsed it. Her face lit up like the sun, and her cheeks flushed with a pink glow, as if she felt guilty for smiling. He was so wrapped up in her smile that he'd spilled her skinny vanilla latte all over the counter, but was rewarded by her carefree laughter. Something he suspected Ella rarely did and he wondered why.

When he introduced himself as the new manager of the coffee shop, his cover for this assignment, Marcus remembered how the corners of her mouth lifted tentatively as he shook her hand. She was hiding something, that much was obvious—but what? In that instant, a sliver of protectiveness rose inside him. He wanted to know more about Ella, and why she was a national security threat. That smile was the reason for the delay in his bringing her in. Once, his mother told him he was gifted with knowing people. He cursed and checked his side arm before he strode for the door.

"Damn it, Ella. What have you gotten yourself involved in?"

What was he saying? Why should he care? This job was the last step in his plan for promotion, and he was not going to let some con artist stand in his way. He grabbed his coat and keys and headed for the only place he could think of _,_ the Ultimate Perk, hoping against all odds, she would turn up.
CHAPTER 2

The discovery of the deserted cabin was too convenient. Ella hesitated but the chance of a shower, even a cold one, was too good to pass. Before she walked inside, she channeled her energy to search the vicinity for any human presence. Using her enhanced senses this way was easy. Her nose lifted to inhale the slight breeze that floated around; she could gauge whether a human was near. Their sickly-sweet odor was distinct. Detecting other life-forms was getting harder as there were more than she ever realized. Vampires were easy. They smelled like you would expect, metallic like blood, whereas werewolves smelled damp and woodsy. Her own kind, she believed smelled of the fall, but again it could change according to their moods.

After convincing herself there was no immediate threat, Ella touched the handle with her palm, and the door clicked open. A shower, change of clothes, and food if there was anything edible: that was the plan. She fully intended to pay the owners back and would leave a note to say so. After she charged upstairs, she quickly found the compact bathroom and searched for supplies to help restore her appearance. She opened the drawers in the large vanity, ignoring the two boxes of hair color and array of accessories. Ella grabbed two small travel-sized bottles instead and shoved the drawer closed.

After she stripped off her little more than rags for clothes, Ella stepped into the shower. The streaming water was freezing. Normally, she would raise the temperature simply by running her hands through the spray, heating the flowing liquid, but her reserves were low after repairing her injuries. However, at least, she had the bottle of shampoo and conditioner that would tame her matted hair. The smell of coconut soothed her senses as she massaged her scalp with her fingertips and softly explored a lump at the back of her head.

A picture of Aidan zoomed into her mind, and she winced at the memory. She was shouting, and he was trying in vain to calm her down. Suddenly, his patience evaporated, and his hand whipped across her face. Blinking, her tears intermingled with the water from the shower. Aidan's slap was forceful enough to knock her out and send her crashing to the ground.

It wasn't a friendly spar.

She let the icy-cold water cascade over her face and numb her. She stretched her thin arms out to lean against the tiled wall of the shower. The water flowed over her supple body, deadening every nerve ending, until the pain—both physical and emotional—disappeared. In its place, a blinding fury filled her, and she went into survival mode. Ella stepped out of the shower, determined, and she twisted her hair to expel all the water before she wrapped it in the small white towel from the hand rail. Standing in front of the large rectangular mirror, she touched the still vivid bruise on her cheek; her fingers gently soothed the skin. With a sucked in breath, she visualized the bruise fading and shrinking. Within seconds, the bruise did just that; in an hour, it would be completely healed. Her face would cause too many questions, questions she could ill afford.

Padding barefoot into the pale green and minimally decorated bedroom, she opened the heavy closet doors and checked through the few items of clothing left hanging, discarding each one until she pulled out a pair of skinny black velour pants and a matching jacket. With a grimace, she wiggled her long, lean legs into the pants. When she looked in the full-length mirror, she observed how they clung to her curves around her slender hips and bottom. Finding shoes that would fit was a problem. Eventually, she settled for a pair of plain black flip-flops that would just have to do. After she closed the doors to the closet, she swiveled around and left the room.

Ella raced down the stairs as her stomach growled for attention. She needed food. Spying the large white fridge, she walked and opened the door but apart from some condiments, it was empty. Disappointed, she turned to search the cupboards. As each door opened, she stared at the meager choice: either a can of tomatoes or creamy chicken soup. Ella grabbed the soup and pulled all the drawers open until she found what she was looking for, and lifted up a can opener. Pouring the liquid into a cup to drink, she inserted her finger, twirled it around in the contents until she was happy with the temperature; she removed her finger and licked the dripping broth. Making the soup a warm temperature was about as much as she could muster at the moment. As she checked around the room, Ella homed in on the radio and automatically reached over to switch it on to gain some sense of the day and maybe her location. The ticking clock on the wall read ten thirty, but she couldn't be sure of the day. With the cup held between her hands, she listened as the music changed for a news report. She sipped the warm liquid and relished its comforting taste.

The newscaster was reporting live at the scene of a vicious crime, a murder in Andover, the town where she lived. She froze, unable to take another sip, listening instead to the report. Her heart raced and missed beats as details of the savage attack was relayed over the radio. The victim's name was mentioned. The cup of soup slipped through Ella's hands and smashed on the tiled ground. The radio continued and all she could do was listen. It couldn't be.

" _Professor Aidan O'Connor was well-known for his work in retrieving ancient artifacts and worked at the Museum of Archeology in Andover. He also taught at Boston College. His body was discovered in the early hours of Saturday morning in what can only be described as a frenzied and gruesome attack. His girlfriend, Ella Masters, is currently a person of interest. Any information about her whereabouts or indeed, anything to do with this case..."_

The soup she had just enjoyed rose back in her mouth as her stomach heaved, and before she was sick where she stood, she dashed toward the sink to vomit in the bowl. Her head reeled as the news sank in and tears sprung from her eyes.

_Aidan was dead_! _Remember, damn you! Remember_.

She slid to the ground, her head cradled in her hands, and sat there for some time as she listened to the rest of the report. Ella learned that it was, in fact, now Saturday afternoon, almost twenty-four hours after that fateful evening. Learning that, panic set in, and she jumped up, needing to move and fast, because if history repeated itself, like usual, then the Elusti would be coming for her. The Elusti were an old religious sect comprised of influential humans that throughout history had hunted her kind, _soul-shifters,_ down. Over the centuries, they had done exactly that, leaving her in the belief she was the last of her kind—except for her soul mate. Instinctively, if he was dead, she would know but she couldn't be sure. Anyway, Aidan's death couldn't be an accident and that meant they were involved and would be hot on her trail, if they weren't already.

Ella knew the drill—stay alive and disappear—but first she needed to figure out where she was. Her gaze flickered over the kitchen countertops, searching for mail, newspapers, anything that would give her location. Nothing. She raced to the front door, remembering she'd stepped on some magazines on the floor as she walked in. There on the carpet lay several pieces of junk mail and a Lands' End catalog. Ella flipped it over and there in typed letters was a name and address. She was in Lincoln, New Hampshire. About two hours away from her home. For some insane reason, she and Aidan were fighting, and now he was dead and she was in New Hampshire.

_Was it possible that she had killed him_?

Ella let the magazine drop to the ground. Aidan was a good seventy pounds heavier than her and athletically strong. They had sparred many times, and he never gave an inch because she was a woman. There was no way she could have overpowered him, but what if she was given no choice? Rubbing her temples didn't make the events any clearer. The last memory she had was of Aidan hitting her and blacking out. There was a void where her memory should be. Whatever had happened, Aidan didn't deserve to die, and she was as certain as she could be at this point that she wasn't to blame.

"Aidan, what did you do?"

Spinning around, she fled back up the stairs and took them two at a time. She needed to transform her looks in some way if she headed back to the scene of the crime. Fiddling with her colored contacts as she tried to remove them, a sudden burst of laughter made fresh tears appear.

" _I love you, Ella. I've tried hard not to, believe me, but I can't help it. I love you. I need to tell you something, but not here." His eyes were pleading, and he looked nervous. Aidan was never nervous. From the first moment they'd met, he'd literally swept her off her feet, refusing to give up no matter the countless times that she told him to leave her alone. He pursued her ruthlessly._

" _I have a secret I need to tell you, but it could kill us both. Will you just listen to me, before you launch in, and please try to understand?"_

As painful memories rained down in her mind, she frantically pulled open the drawer in the bathroom, to find exactly what she wanted and lifted up the pair of scissors. She stared at her reflection as she hacked her long tresses short, as quickly as possible. Clumps of hair fell into the sink as she chopped crudely over her shoulders and when she was satisfied, she grabbed the box of hair color she'd seen earlier and lifted out the plastic gloves.

Tears fell as she saw them shouting at each other back at her house. He grabbed her arm and was trying to explain something, but she wouldn't listen. That's when his hand struck. Her hand wiped the tears away from her cheek. The next picture chilled her blood to ice. Memories flooded her mind, horrible snatches of last night.

She sat strapped in a wooden chair. Aidan was there. He paced back and forth across her room, his hands behind his back as if he was giving a lecture. His face was composed and waiting. When his eyes met hers, he moved swiftly to her side. However, he didn't release her.

" _I didn't want to have to do this, but you've given me no choice. They told me if I took a sample of your blood, they would leave us in peace, so I agreed. We can move away, go anywhere, and they'll leave us alone. Damn it, Ella. Keep still. I don't want to hurt you anymore." Aidan pulled out a sterile packet, ripped it open, and then held up what looked like a butterfly with a silver needle at the end. Ella ignored his words and tugged against the arms of the chair. She tried to kick out, but duct tape secured her limbs._

" _How could you!" She spat the words out. Her heart galloped like a wild stallion and she wriggled to loosen her ties. He inched closer with the needle, and she screamed as loud as she could, only to feel the sting once again from his hand._

" _Ella, please, you're making me do this. I don't want to hurt you or your lovely body, but if you don't comply, they will kill us both. When things settle, you will understand. You see, I know who you are, Ella Masters. You're a soul-shifter, born into the clan of Ariana. Most people would think you're a freak but not me. I think you're fascinating."_

His eyes bulged like a toad, and she blinked to rid herself of the repulsive image. Aidan seized that moment to stab the needle into her vein. Stunned by the shocking turn of events, she sat there, unable to react. This slimy man had earlier been declaring his love. Revulsion rose inside her, and she wanted to kill him but her body went limp. She couldn't fight anymore. He wiped where the needle punctured the skin, covered it with a Band-Aid and dropped her arm.

Aidan shook the glass vial that contained her blood, and then placed it into a small black case. A holler from the other room sounded out, and he turned and stared at the doorway. A bulldozer of a man filled the doorway. His face was covered in acne, and his surly brown eyes stared lasciviously at Ella as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. She started to turn her head away, but caught sight of a large triangular tattoo with an eye in the center on the man's wrist. Her gaze traveled once more upward to study his face. She'd never set eyes on him before, but remembering every detail would be important, later. Once more, she tried in vain to move, pushing her body forward, which made the chair pivot and scrape against the wooden floor, but it was no use. Instead, she concentrated on imagining flames consuming the building. The flicker of orange sparks danced to life. She shut her eyes to close off the world, and called to the forces of nature. She called out to her fire elements but it was too late. Her eyes flew open as panic swamped her veins. Her time ran out.

" _It's no use, Ella, love. Relax. It will be alright. You'll see. Now, I just want you to sleep. Grab her legs. I don't want to miss her vein." The two of them approached her, and Aidan loomed across her with a full syringe. He flicked the top, and the tattoo man gripped her legs to reinforce their hold. A sharp sting dug into her arm, and all sensation left her._

" _Ella, it's pointless trying to fight me. You'll only make it worse."_

His words were hazy and her body sinking fast. The tiny ounce of energy dissolved into a mushy puddle. The world started to spin and collide, until there was nothing but dark space. No stars, just darkness.

The memory faded, but the terror and hurt stung as fresh as when the needle penetrated her flesh. She clutched her arm where the needle was thrust several hours ago, and there was a dark ugly bruise the size of her fist.

She gasped, "Son of a bitch."

Why did this keep happening? Why did all the men in her life turn against her? Or die? Would she never learn?

Staring at herself in the mirror, she realized she didn't know Aidan at all. Her eyes were now bright blue without the contacts and she stared at the label on the hair dye. "Inky Black, hm."

****

The Ultimate Perk's crowd was in its last wave of customers desperate for caffeine before closing. It was almost eight o'clock and Marcus pulled awkwardly at his collar. His gaze fixed on each customer as they entered. He wasn't sure coming here was a good idea, but he just knew that Ella was a creature of habit, and he hoped by some miracle, she was still in the vicinity. God, he'd hated this assignment from day one. Hell, if she was a cold-blooded murderer, she would be long gone. As he pictured the slim and introverted woman, he couldn't imagine her killing any living thing. But if by some stroke of luck she did turn up, he had no choice. She was his. But then what? Hand her over to his prick of a boss or help her? His hand smoothed the lines on his forehead. What was wrong with him? Marcus shook his head. Absolutely take her in. She was a suspect in a murder and a national security threat, for God's sake. Although, the vagueness of why she was on the FBI's Most Wanted list prickled his senses. He strode over to the counter and wiped the top down with a cloth until it shone. He couldn't wait to be out of New England, with its quaint charm, and get to the bustling city of New York, where it was easy to stay lost.

A soft feminine voice prickled Marcus's ears, and his back stiffened like granite. Even though she came in most days, no one at the coffee shop except him knew her name. It struck him as odd from the first time he set eyes on her, how she tried to blend in. Her voice was low and she never gave any pleasantries. When she visited the coffee house, her order was the same. And it was always to go. From the beginning, she had been his assignment and that required him to develop a quick rapport. Normally, he wouldn't have glanced at someone as meek and quiet as Ella twice. However, being his target, each detail about her was engraved on his mind; as he heard her voice now, the hairs along his neck stood up to attention. Marcus turned slowly. This was it: his last chance to redeem himself, and he'd better not mess it up.

When he swiveled around, at first the face that appeared before him made him continue to sift through the last remaining customers for the woman he knew but his gaze snapped back to the figure at the counter, and his hands clenched into balls at his sides. Ella's normally swept back, long, mousey brown hair was cropped bluntly at the shoulders, and now it was striking ebony. His gaze slowly swept over her from head to toe. It was definitely her voice, but...when she spoke again, his glance wandered to her thick rose-bud lips and up squarely at her heart-shaped face. He gasped and held back a laugh as his heart roared inside his chest, beating furiously with anger at his foolishness. Sweeping his gaze up to her eyes, he blinked. Hers were a startling blue, like sapphires.

A black velour tracksuit clung to the soft curves of her body, and for a moment, he was dumbstruck. A memory of a dream resurfaced and seized him. Since he was a child, dreams plagued him, but he always dismissed them. However, today he was wide awake, and he couldn't ignore it. A picture of a woman with soft, flowing locks swamped his mind. Her smile stopped his heart, but it was her twinkling blue eyes that were filled with desire that held his breath in his throat. A soft hand caressed his cheek, and an unusual feeling tugged in his chest. Marcus stammered, and exhaled as if winded.

"Ella Masters?" Her name escaped from his lips like a whisper.

She turned a fraction, but kept her gaze low. Marcus knew it was Ella. Her voice sang to him like a siren and she moved in a swaying motion, gently moving her hips. He knew as his eyes drank in the contours of her trim body and long legs it was her. He'd never paid much attention to her shape, because it was always hidden beneath loose-fitted and baggy clothes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Unable to stop staring, he simply tracked her movement like a hunter.

Ella continued to avoid eye contact, leaving her order on the counter and slowly moved away, but Marcus kept his gaze pinned on her. He needed to make his move and soon, before she bolted out the door.

"Ella."

His voice rose against the din of the coffee machine, and Ella lifted her head to stare directly at him. She tugged at her lower lip with her teeth, a nervous reaction he knew by heart; he watched as she darted for the door. He slammed the mug of cappuccino down on the counter, grabbed his jacket, and moved the customers out of the way to get close to the front just as she reached the exit.

As her hand touched the silver handle, he stood at her back and breathed fast against her neck. Ella didn't turn around, and instead of pulling her away from the door, Marcus caught hold of her elbow and whispered, "Keep going, Ella, and don't make a scene. I know who you are."

There was no response; she simply pulled the door open and he moved along with her outside. Neither spoke until they were farther down the street. His hand tightened around her arm roughly, and he dragged her into a side alley. Marcus towered a good head and shoulders taller than Ella, and he guessed she wasn't more than a hundred pounds or so in weight. Assessing her features closely, he eased his grip. The alley was a dead end, and there was nowhere for her to run, but he wanted to set up some ground rules before they proceeded. He lifted a finger in front of his mouth as she opened hers to speak, motioning for her silence.

"Ella, you're not going to say a word. I don't have time for any games. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before any interview and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning, if you wish. If you decide to answer any questions now, without an attorney present, you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney. Do you understand what I have said to you, Ella Masters? Are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present? Do you hear me?"

Her mouth snapped closed, and she frowned at him.

"If you understand, just nod."

Ella tried to pull her hand free and struggled fiercely against him. He pulled her five-foot-five frame against his solid chest. Marcus couldn't risk losing her now. Her blue eyes sparkled like precious gems, and her cheeks flushed a bright crimson.

"Keep still, damn you. Just nod, Ella, or so help me."

His temper was on a short leash, and God help him, she was yanking it. Ella stopped moving and nodded silently. Marcus sighed and eased his hold again.

"Good. You will not fight me, or I'll have to use other means to restrain you, and you won't like it. I work for the FBI, and I'm bringing you in for questioning."

She moved her head to the side, stunned as she stared at him. Her look penetrated his gaze and he softened his stance as she shook her head, bowing it low as if in defeat. In an odd way, he felt as if he'd let her down and he shifted position to step back slightly.

"I don't have time to listen to any connived explanation of what happened to the professor. My orders are simply to bring you in."

His gut told him that wasn't entirely true, but he needed to stick to the mission; it was easier to push any conscience he had away. In the Navy SEALs, he never questioned an order even when frustrated; he'd been completely loyal to his country, his team, and mission. Only now there was no team. He was alone and this mission didn't make a damn bit of sense. Underneath his shirt, he wore his tattoo of a frog skeleton with a fierce pride but his last tour as a SEAL in Zabul, Afghanistan was brutal and ended badly. He'd lost good men and with them, his sanity—although he wouldn't admit that to anyone. It was also the biggest reason for zero attachments. The ghosts of his past haunted him at night: his friends and enemies both kept him awake.

Ella stumbled against him, and Marcus grabbed her narrow waist to steady her. Swallowing the rising disquiet toward her, he acknowledged how tiny she really was. It would have been virtually impossible for her to have overpowered the professor and killed him. He stared into her almost violet-blues that were framed with long brown lashes, and the picture of the girl from his dreams flashed again. She didn't look like Ella, apart from the eyes. Marcus shook his head to dislodge the image but inched instinctively closer. So close that as he breathed, the smell of coconut from her hair teased his nostrils. His gaze wandered downward, entranced and captivated, as her tongue flicked out across her rose-bud lips.

Before reasoning took hold, he stared at her luscious full lips as a need to claim them rose so fierce he couldn't think for a moment. But she was his target, his acquisition. A murderer! For a moment, he simply studied her innocent wide blue eyes, which were misty pools that drew him in. As if bewitched and even knowing it was wrong, he invaded her space, gripped her hard against his chest and lowered his head to stare into her eyes.

Their gaze locked into each other as the world around them suspended.

The moment Ella watched Nate's expression change from intolerance and anger to a heated need that flared from watching her lips, she knew her moment had arrived. Ella knew this was her moment of freedom. A kiss was so not happening but as his head lowered, their lips brushed against each other's and a delicious friction rippled through her. That was unexpected, to say the least. As soon as Nate's lips touched hers, a trail of fiery sparks erupted from the pit of her tummy right to her toes. Her body trembled in his arms. In all her lives, she had never responded to any man like that. If the mere touch of his lips had this effect on her, what would it be like to have him touch her all over? It was clear this man was a menace in more ways than most—plus, he was far too good-looking for his own good. She never fell for pretty boys. And he had arrested her!

This was utter madness. He was the enemy.

Swiftly refocusing her thoughts onto the task at hand, she lifted her right knee a fraction, and concentrated hard before she rammed it exactly where it would have the greatest effect, impacting sharply in his groin. Nate jerked his head upward, shock written across his face as it twisted in pain. Instantly, Ella threw her right hand upward, pushed his chin and then thrust her left fist into his ribs. Finally, her left leg kicked into his side to knock him sideways. Stunned, Nate didn't respond but went down to the ground like a felled tree. Ella didn't look back. She was running for her life.
BIOGRAPHY

J. M Davies, Jen, is originally from Wales in the UK, but she now lives with her family in a small town in New England close to the city of Boston, the coast, and the mountains. Both countries are huge sources of inspiration for her writing. Since she could read, Jen has enjoyed an eclectic taste in books, but loves all thing's romance, and from her love of the written word stemmed the desire to create her own satisfying stories. Although, a shortie at only five feet tall, she has a big heart and hopes that is evident in her storytelling.

She is mom to four boys, five, if you include her husband, an adorable rescue hound called Ella, and two cats, Skittles and Blackjack. Yup, you guessed it; she has a sweet tooth, and loves chocolate—mostly Cadburys! When she isn't writing paranormal or contemporary romance, Jen manages a local writers group called Writers Supporting Writers on FB as she loves inspiring others to pursue their dream. She also loves discovering old treasures at yard sales and revamping them, watching Grey's Anatomy, Homeland, and Outlander, walking on the beach, cooking, road biking and when there's time the gym. She loves to chat to readers and below are some ways to stay in touch with the latest news about her books and competitions.

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