

RAVENHURST

READERS CHOICE EDITION

VOL. I

LORRAINE BEAUMONT

This is a work of fiction.

Ravenhurst Vol. I © 2018 Lorraine Beaumont

Ravenhurst Series © 2012 Lorraine Beaumont

Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are figments of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

Text Copyright © 2017 Lorraine Beaumont

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the express written per-mission of the author.

PRAISE FOR THE RAVENHURST SERIES

"It has been a few years since I was able to stay interested in a book. The Ravenhurst series has given me the pleasure of feeling like I can't live without knowing - again!!!!" R Groen

"Ms. Beaumont's story kept me captivated from the get go and made me blush in quite a few spots. Great books!" Book Gorilla reader, Judy

"Fans of Outlander will fall in love with this series filled with swoon worthy knights and unexpected twists and turns!" Romancing the Reader

"I love to read time travel stories but have never read one as good as Diana Gabaldon Outlander series until now! Like Diana, Lorraine puts you right into the story and you don't want it to end! Thank you for a very memorable and enjoyable vacation read. And I will be looking forward to the next book in the series. I hope it's about Lucian. Fingers Crossed." J. Wagner

"Hoping this series makes it to Hollywood!" Christina

"LOVED this book. I search out time travel books and have now found my favorite writer! This isn't just a mindless read. There are twists and turns and things I didn't predict. Perfect. Can't wait to read the rest of the series!" Just me

"There's everything you want in a book , romance , a bit of mystery & danger !" Anita Foster

"Time Travel in an adult format. Well written and draws you in the very first sentence. I highly recommend this book. Ms. Beaumont is a true storyteller from the beginning to the end." Crystal Miles Gauthier

"Loved this book! I have enjoyed the entire series. I liked how the characters in the series had a cross over or were mentioned in the book." CAT

"Loved this book and bought the series.. Loved it! Loved it! Loved it..." Bella Perez

"Awesome Books" Amanda Smith

"Totally love the storyline - and can't wait to read the next books on Ravenhurst!!!" Kathy

"Amazing time travel stories! I could not read them fast enough! Waiting on next book to get done. I love the way it all blends together" Dawn Sorrell

"This series was great. It was romance with time travel. The stories all linked together and were well written. Love the characters." Cheryl Helberg

"I really enjoyed reading these books, they are very well written and the story line keeps you wanting to continue reading. I did not want to put the book down. I am waiting very patiently for the next one to come out." Eric Niver

"Hard to put down... so many stories under one cover a real page turner! Have to read the next book."

La Verne G Menear

"Great mystery with a side of beef!" Lorie Van Gorp

"I'm hooked!" B Pellegrin

"Loved this series. Hope it keeps on going. The characters are so real and the story lines are fantastic. Once you start reading you can't stop." L. Breed

"This reminds me of Outlander. A great story from beginning to end!" True Romance

"Fantastic! another time travel sequence. I do not want it to stop. Cannot get enough of Lorraine Beaumont novels. Keep them coming and I will keep reading. Thanks!" Piper/Holly

"This series is amazing!" Jessiejo

"Thank you Ms. Lorraine for the most wonderful time travel series ever! Keep them coming" Sandy

"Very edgy and intriguing!" Dedeia

"I like this author very much. She is different than your ordinary time travel romance author. In a good way!!!!" Jill Cogburn

"Brilliant! This is a great story. I am now up to the fourth book in the series and wish there were many more. So hard to put down. Well done Lorraine ... keep writing!!" Robyn Roberts

"Nicely done! I liked the way the author handled intrapersonal remarks, putting them in italics. That was very effective and at times extremely humorous. " Niren

"Charming!" Ms. Picc

"It is a fantastic story line. Thanks Lorraine, you have been a blessing for me, especially since I had two operations last year, and I am still recuperating this year. God Bless you, keep writing, please." C. Bridgeford

"Intriguing!" Denise

"Love this Series!" Thalia in Kansas

"Excellent! Makes you forget the real world for a while." ykminers

"The Ravenhurst Series is fantastic. Lorraine is a fantastic writer. Look forward to new books to each series of books that she has written already." Charlotte

"Amazing time travel stories! I could not read them fast enough! Waiting on next book to get done. I love the way it all blends together!" Dawn Sorrell

"I loved this book as well as all the books in this series. The story line is well developed and easy to follow even when it is switching between the past and the present. All the characters are well developed and believable. They are complex and flawed, but all we can identify with. I truly loved the ending of this story, it was a surprise ending for me. I would truly recommend this series to anyone who enjoys time travel stories." Brenda Langham

"I love the way Lorraine Beaumont continues the wonderful mixture of suspense, romance, action and mystery. Even though it appears the end is here and all has fallen into place, she leaves the door open for more at the end!" Cat Figaro

Other titles by Lorraine Beaumont

Ravenhurst Series

#1 Bestselling Time Travel Romance

Forgotten Time

Shadows of Yesterday

Time to Remember

Dreams of Tomorrow

Now and Forever

A Victorian Christmas

Lucian

A Modern-Day Christmas

♦

Ravenhurst Special Edition Trilogy

Ravenhurst Vol I

Ravenhurst Vol II

Ravenhurst Vol III

♦

Lost in the Highland Series

#1 Bestselling Scottish Time Travel Romance

Lost in the Highlands, Book I

Lost in the Highlands, Book II

Lost in the Highlands, Book III

♦

Briarcliff Series

Young Adult Paranormal Dark Urban

Fantasy Written for Adults

Briarcliff - Elyograg

Briarcliff - Gargoyle

Briarcliff - Degare'

♦

Edenbrooke Hollow Series

Paranormal Time Travel Romance

We Three Witches: a Good Spell Gone Wrong

We Three Witches: Something Wicked

We Three Witches: Toil and Trouble

♦

New Series in the Works

TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEAR READER...

FIRST PERSON EDITION -KATHERINE

THIRD PERSON EDITION

IDLE MINDS

WHEN NO ONE IS LOOKING

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

REFLECTIONS

WHEN IN ROME

IT'S COMPLICATED

OVERSTAYING A WELCOME

WHAT WAS LOST CAN BE FOUND

WHAT WAS LOST CAN BE FOUND

LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING

NOT ALONE

DENIAL

DESPERATION

CONSEQUENCE

MEMORIES DO NOT ALWAYS FADE

THIS TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE

THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM

GOOD MORNING

NO ONE LIKES TO SHARE

RECOMPENSE

THE GAMES THAT WE PLAY

TIME DOES NOT HEAL ALL WOUNDS

A MOMENT'S PLEASURE CAN FADE

PAYBACKS ARE A BITCH

INDECISION

YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

FINDERS KEEPERS

THE CRAZY THINGS THAT YOU DO

ONCE A THIEF ALWAYS A THIEF

REGRET LEAVES A BITTER TASTE

JUSTICE MAKES A CRUEL BEDFELLOW

IF WALLS COULD TALK

CURIOUSITY KILLED THE CAT

OUT OF SIGHT DOES NOT = OUT OF MIND

STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES

SECOND THOUGHTS

CAPTIVITY BE DAMNED

PLANS GONE AWRY

TIME LAPSE

TOO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS

EVEN THE GOOD MUST COME TO AN END

SECOND CHANCE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

WHAT'S INSIDE

READERS CHOICE

FIRST PERSON ENHANCED EDITON

THIRD PERSON ENHANCED EDITION

(for those of you unfamiliar with Readers' Choice it simply means you can either read the book in

first or third person narrative.)

BONUS CONTENT

INVITATION

INTERACTIVE GAME

WHAT MYSTERY WILL YOU UNLOCK?

DEAR READER...

You are cordially invited to join me on an adventure through the pages of my Ravenhurst books.

cLICK OR TAP

THE INVITATION TO READ THE RULES!

#

"Dark and foreboding the gates loom above

Someone whispers my name...

could it be my true love

Courage and strength to push through the gloom

Is this my happy ending or am I forever doomed"

~ Windy Blye

# IDLE MINDS

Present Day

THE stately grandfather clock groaned out its sixth chime to mark the hour. Standing, I smoothed the wrinkles from my pencil skirt, then shoved my feet back into my Betsey Johnson peep-toe pumps and started counting backwards. Ten... nine... eight... seven... The floor began to vibrate. Six... five... four... three... two... The glass doors flew open and gusts of cool air hit me in the face.

"Have a good weekend!" I called after them..."The Evening Stampede."

A few blurred airwaves were tossed back in my general direction as my co-workers flew past.

"Wow. They're moving fast today." I sat back down. It never ceased to amaze me how fast my co-workers could move when it was closing time. One day I really needed to get a stopwatch and time them. I bet they broke a few records. Now they were all huddled in a group waiting for the elevators to come up to the twelfth floor.

Biddle & Bailey, the high-end auction house I worked for, owned the building. The reception area was in the center of the twelfth floor. Bronze statuary and Chinese ceramics were some of the items showcased in lit alcoves throughout the room. A large still-life painting hung on the cream-colored textured walls above an Eames-era sofa. Two separate sets of glass doors flanked either side of my desk and led to different departments. A lone glass door, near the elevators, was completely off limits. It led to a set of private offices for the owners.

The elevators dinged. Everyone squeezed on except Dane and Candy—they were too busy flirting. They were both married, but not to each other.

I couldn't leave until everyone else left, so I busied myself with inane tasks attempting to look occupied. Of course, it was a lie. I was really spying on Dane and Candy. I wanted to know if they were hooking up tonight. My best guess was yes.

The elevator swished loudly as it moved up the shaft. I angled my head so I could look...without looking. They were both in my sights...Dane slid over to the side, getting closer. Candy angled her body towards Dane. They were toe-to-toe... Dane lifted his hand... Oooh this was getting good and then nothing. A blob of black blocked my view completely.

Dangit! I knew who it was, and what he ate for lunch today...sushi. The wheels squealed on my chair as I shoved away from the desk to avoid the gust of fish breath that was about to come my way.

"Hey Ned, what's up?" I stood quickly and grabbed hold of the back of my chair. Ned was one of the top appraisers at Biddle & Bailey, aka "the infamous blob" who was now chewing on something—I hoped it was a mint.

Ned lifted his finger in the air.

Apparently, he needed a moment. Casually I leaned to the left to see what Dane and Candy were doing. Just as I made my move, the elevator doors dinged shut.

Well that stinks.

Now I would have to wait and try to pry the gossip out of Janice on Monday. Janice was one of my coworkers and knew the dirt on everyone. Bending over, I picked up my Warhol Marilyn tote off the floor and placed it on the desk. Ned shook his head and mumbled some kind of gibberish under his breath as he patted his pockets. What was he doing?

"Ned, do you need some help?" I slipped my latest issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine into my bag.

"No." He shook his head back and forth. "I am merely looking for something."

Great. It was already six twenty and traffic was going to be terrible. This was obviously going to take a while. Pulling back out my chair, I sat down. Lifting, my W magazine off the desk, I flipped through the large pages. I made it all the way to the arty fashion feature that consisted of fifteen or so full-page photos that told a story. This one had a white-haired Mermaid with a pearl nose ring, entitled, "Far Far from Land."

"Aha!" Ned said exuberantly. "Here we are." He held a white envelope in his left hand and leaned forward. "It's Friday..." he sang the word and lifted his brows up and down.

"Yep, it's Friday. Woo!" I cheered. I wasn't real sure what all the brow lifting was about though.

Ned leaned forward, which was kind-of hard since there was a substantial desk between us and he still managed to do it. Amazing. "So..." He traced the marble design on top of the desk. "What fun things do you have planned for this weekend?"

"Not much." I made a face and tossed the magazine back on the desk. "I guess I'll see what's going to be On Demand." I hoped something good was on. If not, I was going to re-watch Twilight, for the umpteenth time. Yes, guilty as charged, I'm a Twihardaholic. I secretly adored all things Twilight.

Fine that was a lie. It was really about the eye candy and eternal life with said eye candy that didn't sound like such a bad thing. At least not to me...well except food. I'd miss food. This reminded me—I needed to pick up something for dinner...some tasty take-out maybe and something yummy for dessert. OH, and maybe some chips to counter the sweets. Damn, were my sweats clean?

Ned gurgled across the desk.

My mind screeched to a halt. Shit, was he choking? "Ned you okay?" He had better be okay or I would have to do my version of the Heimlich maneuver, which would consist of my hand smacking the crap out of his back because I had no idea how to do the real one.

"I'm good." He held up his hand and smiled widely.

The smile reminded me of a beatific "I'm a cat that just inhaled the canary type of smile" which made me wonder if he did that choking crap on purpose just to get my attention.

"The reason for my question...well...I was wondering if you were free this evening?" He had a hopeful look on his face.

Oh, crap...was he asking me on a date. No. No. No. Think excuse. I needed an excuse. Ned was nice but I didn't like him in that way. Now I was going to end up hurting poor Ned's feelings, but I didn't want to go out with him on a date either. Words eluded me. I shook my head back and forth, trying to say no.

Ned didn't seem to notice. "It seems I have been fortunate enough to procure tickets to Biddle & Bailey's Historic Society's Preservation Ball." He waited a beat. "It's to be held at Ravenhurst estate." He flapped the coveted invitation in the air.

Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. In an instant, I changed my head motion from side-to-side to up-and-down. Yes,...yes...yes. This put a completely different spin on the question. "Ravenhurst?" I repeated, just to be sure.

Ned nodded his head for clarification.

It was my turn to lean forward. My fingers itched for the invitation. I had half a mind to jump over the desk and wrestle Ned for it. But I didn't. I held myself in check. It was hard though...so very hard.

Ravenhurst was one of those places everyone talked about, especially in the appraisal business. It was a magnificent creation erected as far back as King Arthur's realm, and steeped in as many legends.

"As I was saying," Ned continued, sounding impatient. "I do realize this is extremely short notice but you did make a point of saying that you have no pressing engagements for this evening." His light blue eyes zeroed in on me.

I crossed my arms, and tapped my chin like I was really giving it a lot of thought. Hmm...either I could stay at home lusting after some fictional characters from a movie and stuff my face or I could go to a ball? No-brainer.

But what of Ned? Did he think this was a "friendies" type of date or a real one?

Ned's hands fluttered in the air and reminded me of little butterflies. "I was appointed a driver, and the evening is to be a costumed affair. Everyone must dress in a particular era. I thought the Victorian era would be perfect. I do so love all things Victorian you know, and it really does promise to be jolly good time." He rubbed his hands together in excitement.

His enthusiasm was catching. Tingles of excitement shot through me at the prospect. It was two for two. Invited to a freaking castle and now I would get to dress up too. How awesome is that! My mind sped off to another time and place. What had it been like to live in a place like Ravenhurst? What of the balls, and hunts, that must have taken place on long weekend parties? Oh, and the gallant men, how they must have courted their ladies. Were they dashing, debonair, and rich? Or more reserved, brooding, and wealthy, like John Willoughby in Sense and Sensibility?

"Katherine...Katherine?" Ned snapped his fingers.

"Huh?" I refocused my eyes.

"Will you accompany me?" His expression reminded me of a little puppy. He looked so darn cute.

"Of course I will." I ran around the desk and gave him a big exuberant hug. It only lasted a moment but he was really giving me a good squeeze. When I pulled away, I noticed his expression had changed completely. Puppy was gone and Piggy was in his place. Oh Great! Too thick. I had poured it on too thick and now he probably thought I wanted more than a simple, "I'm using you to go to a castle kind of date."

"Wonderful!" Ned exclaimed, his elation clearly showing.

Heck, I was elated too. Who in their right mind wouldn't be?

Then reality crashed in on me and ended my short-lived fantasy. I had nothing to wear and my fatty-pants weren't going to cut it...not there. "Oh Ned," I whined. "I can't go." I poked my lip out and made a sad face.

"What?" He blanched. "Why ever not?"

"I don't have anything to wear." I leaned forward and bumped my forehead on the top of the desk in theatrical defeat.

Ned laughed brightly. "Oh, no worries, my sweet. Have you forgotten that I am Biddle & Bailey's sole appraiser of antique textiles? My job has some pretty nice perks," he boasted. "I have just the thing for you to wear down in storage. Give me but a moment and I will retrieve it for you." He reached out and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Seriously?" I asked just to be sure I heard him right.

"Yes, yes, I am serious." He petted my arm. "Now, chin up. No worries, I'll be back in a jiffy." With one final squeeze on my arm, he turned on his heel and made a dash for the elevator that was opening, which he somehow managed to slip inside just in time. The doors slid shut.

Once the coast was clear, I broke into an 'I'm going to a castle' happy-dance. One foot lifted in the air... I shook my head to the unheard beat...

The elevator dinged.

"Shit." I dropped my foot back down and quickly scurried back behind the desk. I half expected to see Ned burst from the elevator doors doing the "Speedy Gonzales" (my name for his fast-paced walk) across the reception area floor. However, it was not Ned coming across the room at all.

No, instead, it was an attractive older man. He took his time and had a casual elegance. There was an umbrella tucked under his arm and a small box in his other hand. His suit, which was dark gray and exceptionally tailored, contrasted with his thick white hair, even though you could see glimpses of the dark, almost black color it had once been.

"Good evening. May I help you?" I plastered on my most flattering: I am a professional, smile.

His eyes twinkled. "As a matter of fact, my fine lady, you may," he said with a crisp English accent and gingerly set the box on the desk. "I would like you to look at an item I have." He tapped his fingers on the velvet lid.

"Ah..." I forced my gaze up from the box. "I'm sorry." Nervously, I twisted my fingers together. "All the appraisers are gone for the evening."

"Is that so?" He quirked a brow. "Perhaps you could help me?"

"Of course." I slid my sweaty palms over the sides of my skirt. "Certainly, I can try but I will warn you, I may not be of much assistance." I smiled playfully at him.

He frowned.

Oh my GOD! What am I doing? Flirting with him? He's old. "I mean...ah...what I meant to say was, I will...I mean, I can try to um...erhm, help you."

His frown faded. "Oh Katherine, my sweet dear. I feel quite certain that you of all people are the only one who can help me."

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I was getting a strange feeling about him. And it wasn't an "I'm getting hit on feeling either." My mind raced as I tried to recall if I had somehow met him before but came up empty. He lifted his hand and moved my nameplate to the side. The uneasy feeling receded a bit, but not entirely.

The lights above glinted off his ring as he unhooked the latch on the box. I leaned forward to get a closer look and got a big whiff of his cologne. It smelled expensive, and screamed: I'm a refined English gentleman type of cologne. At least that is what I thought a refined English gentleman should smell like. He had such an old world charm about him too. Actually, he looked like he was from another century altogether.

The box creaked as he opened the lid. All thought fled my mind as he pulled a substantial blood-red stone encased in gold, from the box. The stone swung haphazardly and glimmered beautifully under the lights.

Instantly, I had an overwhelming urge to try it on.

Actually, I really wanted to take it from him and had to force myself to stay put. What in the hell is wrong with me? Of course, I knew better. You never, ever, ogle consigners' items, end of story and yet, I couldn't stop my hand from lifting out to touch it.

The gentleman chuckled and pulled the necklace just from my reach.

He may be old, but he sure was fast.

I narrowed my eyes, never taking them off the prize. I could tell he was watching me, but I didn't care.

Not one bit.

All that mattered was that necklace and my desire to wear it. He covered the stone with his hand. I blinked and pulled my gaze back to his. He gave me a weird look and my face heated.

He cleared his throat and his eloquent voice echoed out through the room. "Do not let the beauty of this necklace fool you," he warned, and uncovered the stone once again. "Legend has it that every one of the previous wearers mysteriously disappeared."

"Hmmm?" Distracted, my eyes followed the stone back and forth... back and forth...

He covered the stone with his hand.

"Wait...what?" I shook my head. "How can the wearer disappear and you have the necklace? That doesn't make any sense."

"My goodness Katherine, you are quick as ever, I see."

Huh? My mouth popped open.

"The necklace does tend to show back up through time," he said. "Who knows?" He shrugged. "Perhaps there is more than one of these floating about." He waved his hand dismissively and then set the necklace down on the desk.

More than one necklace? A giddy rush of excitement shot through me. I wondered where I might find one for myself but why should I? One was right here, within my grasp... I walked my fingers towards the necklace. I felt him watching me but I didn't care. "Strange," I said more to myself than to him.

"Yes, well, the story is that this necklace was made by a gentleman from Arthurian times."

"You mean like King Arthur's time with Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table?" My mind began to envision it all.

He chuckled. The sound reminded me of a Christmas cookie, warm and sugary. "I have only met a few of the Knights. Most are good lads. As for Merlin, he keeps to himself mostly." He leaned in and lifted his hand to the side of his mouth, whispering, "He likes to keep himself closeted away so he can spy on Morrigan."

I wasn't sure why he was whispering...we were alone. Wait a minute...was he serious? Oh no, was he some crazy eccentric? Of course he was...he had to be. I never met anyone normal. And I was all alone too. Wait...no I wasn't. Ned said he would be back in a jiffy. Granted I wasn't too sure how long a jiffy was, but I was sure he would be back at any moment. That made me feel much better but just in case I took a step back anyway. Not that it mattered. He had a really faraway look on his face and I doubted he even knew I was here anymore.

"This particular necklace was created to bring a knight back his lost love."

"Bring her back from where?" My eyes widened.

He didn't answer.

"Hello Sir...sir..."

He shook his head and his eyes refocused. "I cannot say," he practically whispered.

"Why can't you say?" I whispered too.

"Unfortunately," he said and shook his head. "We will never know."

"Why won't we know?" I asked, getting peeved. That was it. Seriously?

"I apologize dear..." He gave me a sympathetic look. The tale has been lost through time. Who knows? Mayhap there was another reason altogether for the making of the necklace or necklaces." He chuckled lightly.

I noticed his laugh sounded strained, not sugary and warm this time. What was he up to? I stared at him to see if his countenance would falter. His expression didn't change.

He set the necklace back down on the desk and ran his fingers down the length of the chain. "This necklace is supposed to have power within," he commented distantly.

"What kind of power?"

"Apparently, if this necklace is worn when the moon is full, and the stars align just right, otherworldly things will happen."

I opened my mouth and shut it again. That's it. What the hell? "Right, sure...if you say so." I tried not to roll my eyes but couldn't stop my disbelief from showing.

"I am completely serious Katherine." He widened his eyes and leaned in. "Take heed to what I say! This is no mere necklace. The wearer will become captive to the whims of another."

Well, okay then. That did it. Poor man. He obviously had some issues with delusion. The necklace was a beauty though, that was for sure. I'd never seen anything remotely like it, ever. Except for the Hope Diamond, which was pretty in a different way. It always amazed me how the owners sent the Diamond to the museum. I read they shipped it in a plain brown wrapper with no insurance...nothing. What would have happened if it got lost? Rich people do crazy shit and this guy looked like he was well on his way to being crazy too. I turned around to get a contract for him to look over. It was getting late and it was better to get this business finished as soon as possible.

Of course, Biddle & Bailey's stout rules bobbed through my mind, once more. Rule number one: Never ogle the consigners' belongings. Just broke it.

Rule number two: never touch, try on, or lust after consigners' valuables. We at Biddle & Bailey are better than that.

Unfortunately, I found myself contemplating breaking that one as well. Dang it! I took a breath and plastered on my best: "I am a professional" smile again, and turned around.

The contract slipped from my fingers and floated to the floor. A chill swept through my body. He was gone—gone! Where did he go? An uneasy feeling gathered in the pit of my stomach. I tried to come up with a simple explanation for his sudden disappearance. Maybe he was related to Ned: Speedy Gonzales II—right, I didn't believe that.

My eyes zeroed in on the necklace that was still on the top of the desk. The cold dark marble, the perfect backdrop for the fiery stone. It sparkled like liquid fire.

I stole glances at it like I did with Dane and Candy, always pretending not to look, but keeping it within sight. Surely, he would be back in just a moment, especially if it held all that mystical mumbo jumbo he claimed it held.

A sneaky little voice inside of my head whispered, it would only take a moment to try it on.

I looked at the necklace with longing as my little voice dared me to touch it. I knew it was against policy but what could it hurt, really? My hand inched forward, shaking.

It was just a necklace for goodness sake. Maybe it was the story the man told me... but more than likely, I went over my limit of caffeine for the day. Maybe the cup I dumped on my blouse earlier had seeped into my body through my pores, which was more believable than the necklace being the cause.

I looked around. The coast was clear. My little sneaky voice whispered again... Do it. Do it. The words stuck in my mind like a bad record caught on some sticky substance from a long forgotten party.

Giving into my little sneaky voice, I snatched the necklace off the desk and in one fluid motion, I fastened it around my neck. I did not think about the consequences of my actions or that I knew I was breaking another one of Biddle & Bailey's stout rules. Or, if I was caught, I would surely lose my job. None of it seemed to matter right now. The moment it hit my skin, I felt a jolt. Like I'd been scuffing my feet across the rug and had built up a huge amount of static electricity.

Grasping the necklace, I held it against my chest. Why did the Knight go to such lengths to bring the girl back and where did she go?

The stone grew warmer in my hand. My mind flashed to a time that was not my own, to a place I'd never seen before...

FLASH ♦ KING ARTHUR'S REALM

The Age of Chivalry

Purplish hues ran through the trees, falling across the carpeted floor of a forest. The smell of pine and earth hung heavily in the air, as if it had just rained.

Two riders appeared. The man in the lead was formidable, a force to be reckoned with, a knight. His long cloak billowed out past the flanks of his massive horse. A battle scar marred the otherwise perfect coat.

A young man followed stealthily behind, his squire. The horse's hooves made a soft clomping noise on the needles of pine. White steam swirled in the air, rent from the flaring nostrils of the massive beast'.

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. It was terrible. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my fingers to my temples. The sound ebbed away, taking the pain with it. I reopened my eyes. A cloaked figure now stood in front of the Knight.

Dark clouds hovered above, roiling. The wind gained momentum, howling through the trees. The squire's horse reared in the air, dancing backward.

The person in the cloak removed their hood. Hair, dark as night tumbled in waves down her back.

All color drained from the handsome Knight's face. He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

The forest went completely still. Seconds turned to minutes as they stared at one another.

Recognition finally flitted across the Knight's face. Stepping forward, he grabbed the girl into his embrace and threw his head back, laughing. It was a deep, resonating sound. It was heartfelt...full of promises kept...dreams realized.

He pulled away for a moment, staring at her.

I could see what he let the girl see, he let her see to his very soul.

Taking the girl's face in his hands, he leaned forward and lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her in such a way it made my own heart ache watching them.

This love they shared with one another was the one that everyone dreams of...the one that fills you so completely nothing else matters.

I felt like an interloper. I clutched the amulet tighter... thinking if the love they shared was ever lost... their world would never be the same.

As if in response to my morose imaginings, the winds blew harder, the trees swayed, and the girl began to fade away.

The Knight was yelling to whoever was causing this great pain to rip him in two. His anguished cries filled the air as the girl slipped completely from his grasp.

I watched...helplessly spellbound... shivering to my soul.

# WHEN NO ONE IS LOOKING

Ravenhurst- Present Day

RAVENHURST, the ancient edifice cast an eerie silhouette in the full moon's light as a line of expensive cars wound their way down the curved drive. Red glowing taillights blazed in the darkness as each car stopped in front of the massive columned stairs, depositing guests bedecked in all their evening finery.

I held tightly to the "I swear I did not steal, only borrowed," antique amulet as the car crept around the corner and revealed the enormity of Ravenhurst in the full moon's light.

"Ravenhurst is bloody daunting in the moonlight, is it not?" Ned asked in a crisp English accent as he adjusted his perfectly tied cravat.

"Yeah, it's bloody daunting." I nodded in agreement. Ned looked as dapper as any Victorian gentleman. The suit he wore accentuated his thin frame and he had combed his light brown hair away from his face.

I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, but unfortunately, Ned was no Richard Gere. It didn't matter though. I was going to a ball in a castle thanks to Ned. And what Ned lacked in striking good looks he more than made up for in expertise, since he was by far the best in his field. I looked past Ned through the window of the car. Twinkling lights flickered from branches of trees clustered around the edges of the circular drive as the car moved forward a little more.

"So Katherine, how does it feel to wear an authentic Victorian gown?" Ned smiled.

"I daresay it is positively brilliant!" I exclaimed in my best feigned-English accent as I adjusted one of the hand-sewn poppies attached to the black-full-tiered- skirt. "I have to say, my good man, putting it on was a bloody chore," I said, trying to sound English.

Ned chuckled. "Well, I have to say you do it justice. It looks as though it was made specifically for you. The fit is just brilliant."

"Thanks, Ned."

He shook his head. "I feel bloody terrible you had such a time putting the dress on. Had I known, I would have retrieved you much earlier. Then perhaps I could have assisted you?" He raised his brow slyly.

Oh, perfect. Piggy's back. Ignoring his comment, I adjusted the bodice. My gloved fingers slid over the sleek fabric. I had to admit he was right about the fit of the gown. The polonaise-style Victorian ball gown was a piece of art and gave me better posture than a runway model. It pushed my boobs up and squeezed my waist dramatically. My body never looked better. It was kind-of funny though... I had always thought this style of dress would be preferable to my skinny jeans, but not so much.

The shoes were a different story altogether. Ned assured me they were called slippers. However, I dubbed them toe-terrors that crushed each and every one of my toes with each step I took. They were worse than my new super tight pair of Betsey Johnson peep-toe pumps—Slippers my ass!

Ned's eyes boldly found their way back to my cleavage. I wanted to say, Gee, Ned, could you be more obvious? Then I remembered my "borrowed" necklace. Did he know I was lying about it? No, he never saw the gentleman who brought it in. Still, I didn't want to chance it so I quickly brought up another subject. "So Ned, what is this I hear about some legend, the one with the Knight?"

"Ah, yes, the legend," he said brightly, warming to his subject. "Well, if I understand correctly, the original part of the home was built in Arthurian times. In the daylight, you can see the tower room and of course, the battlements. However, as time passed, each owner added something to it. As you will soon see, there is a great deal of Gothic influence in the architecture, very dark and foreboding."

"This place really is old as dirt."

Ned laughed. "Your word choices always give me a good chuckle Katherine."

I smiled. I couldn't help it, his puppy face was back. "I have to say Ned, it certainly looks creepy."

"Well, if you think it is creepy now, just you wait until you see the inside," he warned. "And as far as the infamous legend is concerned, there are so many variations, no one truly knows what to believe." He moved a bit closer and lowered his voice as if he were about to divulge a great secret. "The one most often repeated is about the first knight, the Raven Knight. Ravenhurst is...was his home. He had fought in many battles and won favor with the King. He was both feared and revered. No opposition could rival the Raven Knight and his men in battle. The very skies would turn black as he and his men would swoop in and waylay their opponents every time." He waved his hand. "And then, just as suddenly they disappeared and the darkness receded," he said ominously. "Throughout time, many speculated that he had a necromancer helping him with the outcome of the battle. He never lost you see."

"What is a necromancer?" I shivered and rubbed my arms.

"A necromancer is simply another word for witch, conjuror, or partaker of the dark arts," Ned said dismissively.

"What?" I gaped at him. "That's the legend? The Knight never lost a battle and he may or may not have had help from darker influences?" Shaking my head, I was not quite able to figure out what the big deal was. The story was interesting, but seriously, that was a lot of hoopla for a lot of nothing.

Ned leaned forward, and glanced at his reflection in the window. He dug something out of his front tooth and then turned back around. "Sorry about that." He wrinkled his face. "I love sushi but the seaweed seems to linger." He chuckled again and shrugged his shoulders. "What did you ask?" He lifted his finger. "Oh yes, I remember..." he lowered his voice, "it's the treasure."

"What treasure?" I leaned in.

"Shush Katherine..."

Ned pressed his fingers to my mouth.

"Someone may hear you," he rushed out in a frantic whisper. "The one everyone has been looking for. It is hidden somewhere within the walls of Ravenhurst. If found, it could enable the possessor to have unimaginable power." He lifted his fingers and stared at them for a moment. Then he rubbed them back and forth.

It was my turn to freak... or I would have if I wasn't in repulsed shock. What in the hell was he doing? Gross.

The car stopped abruptly and I pitched forward.

"This is us," Ned said excitedly and turned to exit the car.

I glared at his back as he climbed out. Ned better hope I didn't find the treasure of Ravenhurst because if I did, I was going to turn his ass into a toad for touching my mouth with his smelly, tooth-dirt fingers. He was lucky the car stopped.

There was a slight pile up on the stairs of Ravenhurst. I held tightly to my 'borrowed' amulet, waiting in line. Gargoyles loomed above the massive entryway. I felt as though they were watching my every move. I shivered in spite of the heat coming off the other guests.

Finally, the line began to move and we were both ushered through the open doorway of Ravenhurst. I gave one of the gargoyles a sidelong glance as I passed it and made my way into the foyer.

The floor was gorgeous. Black and white checkered marble tiles covered the expanse, polished so brightly the lights above reflected and sparkled across the surface. I leaned back and looked up at the spectacular wrought iron and crystal, Gothic-style chandelier. To my right, there was a huge winding staircase that led up to a second level landing. It continued further back, but I couldn't see beyond.

"Did you know white was not even considered a fashionable color for a wedding gown until Queen Victoria wore it at her wedding?" Ned grabbed my elbow and steered me around a group of people who stopped to admire one of the statues.

"Is that true?" I sidestepped a potted plant.

"Yes. It is true." Ned pulled me towards a passing waiter. "The color meant the bride was coming to the marriage penniless."

"Seriously?" We came to an abrupt halt in front of a group of people hovering around a uniformed waiter. Even from the back of the crowd, I could see his tray was piled high with delicious looking pastries.

"Yes, I am serious. Even the gown I lent you was meant to be a wedding gown."

"Why would you say that?" I rubbed the crick in my neck from staring at the chandelier too long.

"The craftsmanship gave it away. That dress took a very long time to make. I do find the color of the gown an interesting choice for the bride though. Red signified she wished herself dead, so unfortunately, I don't think it was a love match." He shook his head sadly. "Poor dear."

A chill slithered up my spine and my mouth popped open. Oh, just perfect. I'm wearing a gown from a girl that wanted herself dead and I had to borrow a necklace made for a knight by who knows what, to bring his lost love back. A wave of dread washed over me. I was getting a bad feeling about this.

"Now the black overlay and hand-sewn floral accents were also an interesting choice for the bride, since it meant she wished herself back. Now this is a bit confusing for me. I am not sure how she can wish to be dead, and then wish herself back." He shrugged indifferently.

"Well, at least it sounds like she changed her mind. Maybe she was like Juliet, trying to be with her true love but she couldn't, so she pretended to kick it so the other guy would leave her alone," I said hopefully, trying to make the tightness in my chest subside.

"Perhaps," Ned replied absently. We finally made it to the front of the line. He inspected the tray for a moment and then grabbed one of the puff pastries off the tray and popped it into his mouth.

"Still, it is kind of sad and disturbing at the same time, don't you think?" I peered over his shoulder to see what else was on the tray.

"Oh, Katherine, that is not even the half of it. The Victorians were an especially superstitious lot and even made poems up about certain aspects of the wedding. Take the days of the week, for instance: Marry on Monday for money, Tuesday for wealth, Wednesday the best day of all, Thursday for crosses, Friday for losses, and Saturday for no luck at all."

"Seriously, you get no luck at all for a Saturday? Everyone gets married on Saturday in America. Well, that is just great. I guess we're all screwed."

Ned chuckled. "You are quite a crack-up aren't you?"

"Yeah, a real crack-up," I said despondently and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. "So, Ned, where did the dress come from anyway?" I took a sip of champagne.

"Oh, it came from Ravenhurst."

I coughed so hard, the sip of champagne flew out of my mouth as my eyes teared up. "What did you say?"

"The gown is from Ravenhurst."

"Wh—why am I wearing it then? Isn't that against the rules?"

"Oh, no worries." He chuckled and petted my arm reassuringly. "It isn't like the girl who wore it is going to miss it," he said laughingly.

I drained my drink in record time. I needed to take the edge off. I was trying to forget all about the origins of the necklace, as well as the girl who wore the dress.

All I really wanted to do was explore the castle without Ned telling me another dreadful story. He was putting a serious damper on my good mood. And those stinking gargoyles'... their little beady eyes seemed to keep following me everywhere I went. It was probably guilt making me feel this way. I should have taken the necklace off. Truthfully, I should have never worn it in the first place, but somehow, I couldn't help myself.

The necklace was awesome. Besides, it wasn't my fault Ned lent me the gown and insisted I keep the necklace on. Except he didn't know I was lying about how I got it in the first place.

Apples-oranges, did it really make a difference? I didn't think so. Ned was the culprit in all this. Not me... at least that's what I told myself to lessen the feeling of guilt.

♦

Two hours later and yet another terrible story relayed by Ned in gory detail, I was getting pretty depressed. Didn't Ned have any good stories to tell? I finished off my third glass of champagne, which did a fine job of dulling the pain in my toes, but unfortunately, not my head. Ned had been talking non-stop. My eyes followed Ned's hand as he reached out and snagged another pastry off the passing waiter's tray and popped it into his mouth. Cream slipped out of the side of his mouth as he chewed and tried to speak at the same time, warming to his subject again.

"The Victorians would attach strings to the deceased bodies in various places, such as the hands, head, and feet before they were buried." Ned paused for a moment, and plucked yet another pastry off the retreating tray of crab puffs and popped it into his mouth.

"And to think DR. TABERGER designed the system above ground, just in case the person they buried was not really dead at all. It was bloody brilliant. The bell would alert the cemetery night watchman to dig up the body. Of course, I am not quite sure if they managed to do this in enough time..." He shrugged and licked the cream off his fingers.

As I watched him run the tip of his tongue over each one of his fingers, I was frankly surprised my mouth began to water instead of my gag reflex kicking in. I knew why, too. I was so hungry it just didn't matter. The dress had me trussed up so tightly, it was hard to take a breath. I knew if I tried to eat anything, the damn thing would asphyxiate me and render me unconscious for the rest of the night.

"Now where was I?" Ned tapped his chin.

Please stop...please stop! I can't take it! Not another word about corpses or I am going to be sick. I searched the crowd frantically for someone to unload him on. Amelia, was standing in the corner, gawking at Ned. Perfect.

Amelia was another appraiser but she dealt mainly in antique jewelry. At least that was her specialty. She actually dabbled in a bit of everything, especially from the Victorian era. She was a petite little thing, with a short boyish hairstyle that looked perfect on her small frame. Amelia dressed nice but her clothing tended to be very conservative, with one exception. She liked to accessorize with brightly colored, vintage-enameled flower pins. I guessed she was a likeable enough person, a bit bookish at times but really, in this business who wasn't? Spotting my chance for escape, I pulled Ned towards Amelia.

Three ladies were huddled together, blocking me. Not to be deterred, I cut around the side and came to a halt right in front of Amelia.

"Ned," Amelia said in surprise, smiling widely.

"Oh hello." He didn't smile back.

I thought Ned would be happy to see Amelia but instead he sounded completely downtrodden. Good grief, was he blind? Amelia looked really good.

I smiled at her warmly. "Hey Amelia, I love your outfit." She was wearing a bright green riding ensemble with a jaunty little hat cocked to the side. The feathered plumes, curved around her face dramatically. She had a riding crop in one hand and a drink in the other.

"Oh, hello Katherine." Her brow wrinkled in displeasure. "Funny, I didn't know you were invited."

"Ah, I wasn't. I mean, I came with Ned."

"That was kind of him." Amelia eyes slid up and down my body with visible distaste.

Immediately, I revoked my earlier comment. Amelia wasn't nice—she was a bitch!

"What an interesting piece of jewelry." Amelia leaned forward to get a better look in the dim light.

"Ah, it is. Thanks." Reflexively I covered the necklace.

"Wherever did you get it?" Amelia narrowed her hazel eyes, which made her fake lashes, clump together. It looked like a spider was attacking her left eye.

I may have found some humor in that but instead I was trying to come up with yet another lie. "Erhm... ah, someone's grandmother from another mother," I mumbled stupidly.

"What?" She leaned in closer.

I took a step back, and hugged my stomach. "Oh gosh, I have got to go to the bathroom,—it just hit me." I made a strained face.

Ned looked suspicious. "I will accompany you." He made a grab for my arm.

"Oh no, I really think it would be best if I go alone." I played it up a bit and bent down slightly, pretending to have cramps of some sort.

Ned made a sour face, and flared his nostrils slightly. "Oh, I see, of course, you should go alone. You will need your privacy."

I added another strained look for good measure, turned, and walked away.

"Try to hurry back," he called out from behind.

"Oh, I'll try," I lied as I called back over my shoulder and walked briskly through the crowd. A broad smile quickly replaced the pained look. I snatched two more glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, and took off to explore the castle.

# BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Ravenhurst- Present Day

THE light of the full moon made an eerie glow at the end of the hall through the mullioned windows. I walked slowly past armored knights stationed in alcoves on either side of the hall. Finishing off one of the glasses of champagne, I set it on the base of one of the knights. Standing up fully, I patted the cool metal. "I'll pick this up on my way back," I assured the stoic figure of a knight in shining armor.

Walking down the hall, I stepped into the glow of the moon and looked out the large bank of windows. A dark cloud spread across the horizon and gave the impression of a hand reaching out across the sky—searching for something or someone. Instinctively, I reached up and stroked the amulet.

A cloud drifted over the moon and blocked the illumination. The hall turned black. I shivered.

After a few moments, the clouds dissipated and the hall filled with illumination once more. Over to my left there was a large gallery. I stepped through the arched doorway. Vaulted ceilings soared high above. The vast floor was filled with strategically placed statuary. I wondered if this was where the lords of the estate courted their ladies, or were they brought here to be seduced. It certainly looked like the perfect place for seduction. I ran my gloved fingers over the muscled arm of David, moving down to his perfectly sculpted buttocks, and patted them lightly.

The champagne was taking its toll and I laughed out loud at my foolishness.

Gilded rows of paintings covered the far wall of the room and I wandered over to them. My heels clicked out a rhythm on the parquet floor, keeping time with the music wafting up from below. I stopped and admired one of the paintings: a knight in profile, his long black hair was blowing away from his face as he looked off into the distance across a vast countryside. Dark clouds gathered above his head, and his cloak billowed out from behind. He looked sad.

A brief glimpse of him in misery flashed through my mind and my heart went out to him. I tried to recall where I may have seen him before, but couldn't grasp it. There was nothing tangible. Determined to have a good time, I moved away from his portrait. Taking another small sip of champagne, I looked at the next portrait. My breath caught and I instantly wished I took the bottle instead of just two glasses.

This portrait showed a man leaning against a mantel in a library or study. I could swear the room turned colder as soon as I looked at the unpleasant man in the portrait.

It was disturbing. There was no other word for it. He was not unattractive, but his eyes were cold, unfeeling, like he wanted to or did some foul deed. Trying to ward off the unpleasantness, I rubbed my arms, but the feeling held tight. Quickly, I strode away to the next painting and froze. My heart skipped an entire beat as I stared into the eyes of yet another man. He was all alone on a grassy hilltop, with this very estate as the backdrop. He was smiling broadly—he was... perfect.

Disjointed images hit me in waves and my stomach lurched. I felt like I was going to be sick. Then I saw him in another time, laughing. Then for a split second, his gray eyes flashed anger before they softened. I could see the love in them, which made me feel warm all over. I barely had a chance to catch my breath when another image hit me. This time, his beautiful face was devastated. I watched his suffering, and my heart dropped. Then, just as suddenly, his eyes went blank, devoid of all expression. There was no spark of life, anger, or love... he became a shell of emptiness.

I couldn't take it. It felt worse than his suffering. Choking back a sob, I turned away. It was horrible... I could not stand seeing him like that. However, the vision did not fade. It stuck in my mind, suffocating me. Trying to alleviate the terrible feeling, I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing.

After a few moments, the feeling abated a little, but not entirely. Forcing myself to move, I walked towards another painting at the far end of the room. This one stood all alone in the corner. The soles of my shoes scuffed loudly against the floor as my feet moved forward, but my mind wanted no part of where they were taking me.

Friction began to build in the air. I stopped in front of the last portrait. Lifting my glass, I gulped down the rest of my champagne, with my eyes tightly shut. I knew I was being a coward, but I did not want to look.

Still, I forced my eyes open and immediately wished I had kept them closed. Recognition slammed through me. "This can't be happening," I whispered in disbelief as my world fell away and everything turned black.

# REFLECTIONS

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

SEBASTIAN de Winter-The Earl of Ravenhurst, looked out his library window toward the setting sun, watching it disappear into the coming night. He couldn't help thinking it was vanishing, just as Marguerite had, without a trace.

Placing his glass on the desk, he let out a heavy sigh. She was certainly not his first choice for a bride, and would not have been a candidate at all if he had any say in the matter. He was quite content with his life just the way it was. When he wanted a woman, he bedded one. There was no rhyme or reason to his choosing. He enjoyed all women and they him. He had yet to hear a complaint.

He laughed lightly, remembering Annabelle's reaction when he told her he was getting married.

The Dandridge's Townhouse \- London

"What do you mean you are getting married?" Annabelle Dandridge shrilled out loudly and pushed her long red curling hair away from her face. Her blue eyes ignited in anger.

"Sorry love, I do not know what to tell you. A man has to do what a man has to do," Sebastian said absently and pulled his breeches up. Her pretty face had an angry pout. "Annabelle, now do not be that way," Sebastian cajoled and tossed his shirt on carelessly. Letting it hang open he walked towards her and stood over the bed.

"Remember you are married as well, or have you forgotten your husband, Adam, so easily?"

Annabelle fell backward on the pillows and covered her face with her arm. "Oh, right, I am," she said as if it suddenly dawned on her. "He is old, though. And he makes me sick when his wrinkled fleshy body touches mine." She shuddered. "And you are the opposite." She sat up and placed her hand on his taut stomach. "You are young and handsome and you make me feel so good when you touch my body." Her hand slid lower. "And I have not even mentioned the best part..." she teased, and smiled up at him. She pushed her hair back and leaned forward. Deftly, she unfastened his breeches and released him fully in her hands. She looked up and gave him a wicked smile.

Sebastian lifted his brow. He knew that look.

Annabelle lowered her head and took his length into her mouth.

Sebastian closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment.

# WHEN IN ROME

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

WHERE in the hell was that rotten smell coming from?

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was as dry as a desert in drought... Damn champagne. It always tasted so good going down too. A sharp pain shot through the side of my head as I tried to open my eyes. I needed a soda... fast, and a bathroom. I forced my eyes open.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" I scrambled back from the person leaning over my body.

"Oh there now little missy," the old woman crooned in a crackly voice. "Just rest your weary head back onto the pillows and try not to make any sudden movements while I get you some water." She pressed my shoulders down into the pillows and then turned to walk across the room. "I bet you are awfully parched after all this time," she called out over her shoulder.

I pushed myself up and winced. Where the hell am I? I glanced around. The room was dimly lit and I didn't recognize anything. Rubbing my forehead, I watched the woman with the weird accent shuffle back and forth across the room. She stopped at a table and lifted a pitcher in the air. "What you need is a cool glass of water," she said, and then began pouring water into a glass.

I would have preferred a soda instead but the super thin maid/woman seemed a bit put out with me already, so I was afraid to ask. Besides, I was trying hard not to stare but I wasn't doing too well. The woman had on some strange clothing. Well, maybe not strange per say, but it definitely looked out of date... really out of date. The gown she wore was long and an ugly grayish color with a ruffled neckline and a bright white apron with a matching little cap perched on her head. Her dark hair was pulled tightly back in a bun at the nape of her neck, which was not a good style on her. It made her hair look really greasy.

"Ex... cu," that was all I got out. The bad smell from earlier hit me again. I breathed on my hand and my eyes crossed. Gross! My breath smelled worse than road kill on a hot day. What in the hell did I eat last night, a bucket of turds?

The maid shuffled back across the room with a glass in her frail hand.

I clamped my mouth shut. I didn't want to kill the feeble maid with my horrible breath.

"Now little missy, just open your mouth and I will help you drink this." The maid leaned in, wrapped her free arm around my head, while wedging the rim of the glass between my lips. Before I could protest, she dumped the water down my throat. A heavy metallic taste filled my mouth. I gagged and coughed. The water came right back up. I couldn't catch a breath. The maid held onto my body so tightly I couldn't rise... or breathe.

"There you go," the maid said and jerked my body forward and then whacked me on the back.

Air blasted into my lungs. I looked at the skinny maid again. The veins of her frail arms bulged through her pale skin. How in the hell were those skinny arms so strong? And yet the sting on my back told me the bitch was hell of a lot stronger than she appeared.

"Now look what you have done." The maid gave me a disparaging look and pulled a rag from her pocket. The little piece of white material dangled from her fingers as she made a clucking sound. "You have made an awful mess of your face." She looked horrified. "No worries, I can fix you up in just a moment." She covered my face with the rag and pinched my nose shut.

I was suffocating... again.

Reaching out, I clamped my hands on the woman's wrists, and shoved them away from my face. "St...op it," I gasped brokenly, trying to pull air back into my lungs.

"Your face is still a mess."

I gritted my teeth. "I don't care."

"Well...it is your face. I will tell you now, it does not look right, not one bit."

I rubbed my hands over my face. It felt fine to me. What was she talking about?

"Are you sure you do not want me to clean you up a bit more?" She gave me a sour look as she scrutinized my face.

This bitch is crazy. "Yes... I mean no! I don't want you to clean it up anymore."

"Suit yourself little missy," the maid said indignantly and stuffed the rag back into her pocket. She made a "harrumph" noise and then shuffled back across the room with the empty glass.

I watched her every move as questions without answers swirled through my mind.

# IT'S COMPLICATED

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

SEBASTIAN opened his eyes as one pleasant memory faded into another. This particular memory gnawed at him and filled him with dread. These were uncommon emotions for Sebastian and ones he preferred to keep buried deep inside, for good.

Turning away from the window, he poured himself another stiff drink... a habit he found himself indulging in more since the disappearance of his betrothed. Taking a large gulp of the fiery liquid, he wandered over to the mantel and set down the glass. He pressed his hands against the cool marble and let his mind return to where it was wont to go of late: his wedding day. The flames danced before him as he recalled every rotten detail of that day.

Ravenhurst – All Hallows Eve

All Hallows Eve seemed like the perfect day to marry a witch.

"She is not a witch, Sebastian," Isabelle commented doubtfully as she looked over at her nephew.

"Who says? You, my dear aunt?" he snapped. "Forgive me for not taking your word for it." He crossed the room to get a drink. Lifting the crystal decanter, he splashed a hefty amount of Brandy in a glass and called out over his shoulder, "Just like you had no idea about Father's will? I know you had a hand in that codicil he added right before he died. Was that a coincidence as well? It seems fate has been on your side all along. How very fortunate for you." He turned and looked over at his aunt, who tilted her head away, hiding her expression. He could read her like a book and she knew it. Her dark blonde hair was piled high in the latest style, something with curls and twists. It made her look much younger than her years, which was probably why she chose that style. She never let anyone know her true age. She always said age was just a number. Even he had to admit it worked, for she did look exceptionally good. He was not even sure of her age himself.

"How is this match fortuitous for me, Sebastian?" She twisted her hands together nervously. "You know you have to get married at some point. What difference does it make?" Isabelle questioned warily.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and took a drink. Apparently, she intended to continue acting as though she knew nothing of the codicil. "I did not know I was going to have to marry her," he snapped. "I have a feeling you made Father put her name in the will, so stop acting as though it was all a big surprise." He dashed his hand through his hair in aggravation.

"What I would like to know, is why her? Would not any woman have worked?" Sebastian tossed back the contents of his drink. The glass made a sharp ping when it hit the marble mantel.

"Is it because of Devlin?" He scrutinized her to see if her countenance would falter. "Are you afraid your young rakehell of a husband may wander over to greener, younger pastures, searching for a better...cow?"

She shook her head.

Sebastian could see by her reaction that his words were closer to the truth than she would ever admit. He felt a little bad giving her such a hard time, but it truly stung that she betrayed him in such a way. Now he had to pay the price and marry her ward to get what was rightfully his.

Isabelle tried to conceal her expression. "Well, that is neither here nor there; she is a wonderful girl and will make a fine mother for your children."

"Not bloody likely!" Sebastian exclaimed vehemently. "I sincerely doubt I will even be able to perform my husbandly duties. She is insipid and watches me like a pathetic dog, waiting for a treat. Moreover, by the looks of her, she should eat a treat now and then. What did they do...starve her at boarding school? She looks like a bloody carcass with eyes. Oh, and do not get me started on those books she carries with her everywhere like a shield." He waved a hand in the air.

"Sebastian, goodness, she is not as bad as all that. Where have your manners gone? I do not even know who you are right now!" Isabelle exclaimed her voice tinged with sadness...

"Oh please, do not play the innocent with me. You are no paragon of virtue, either. We both know you have had more than your fair share of bedmates. It is a shame your former husband lacked the fortitude to withstand your charms in the bedchamber. He dropped dead rather quickly. Was it a month... two?" he asked in a saccharine voice. "How kind of him to leave you Hawthorne Manor and all its entailments. Still so young with so much money. I would say you are set for life, now, are you not my dear aunt?"

"Oh, stop, Sebastian. I never claimed to be a saint."

"What of Judith? Will she get to choose her husband?"

Isabelle glared at him, her own ire rising. "What?"

"Judith, your new husband's sister. Is she not now living in your home and off the money from your deceased husband as well? Or have you forgotten her so easily?" he asked. "Why not give it to Marguerite?" He leveled her with his intense gaze. "Oh, wait. She has her own money from Victoria. Or does she? Where did her money go, Isabelle?" Sebastian asked snidely, even though he knew the answer to most of his questions already.

Isabelle paced back and forth, wringing her hands. "Cease. Please. Judith has no place to go and Marguerite's money will go to you, I made sure of that." Isabelle smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her ice-blue gown.

"Do you know what I find interesting?" He turned to face her fully. "Judith is a stranger to you, and yet you take her in and supply her with not only a home, but new clothing as well. Marguerite, your ward, you know, the one you pledged to look after 'til the day you die... what are you doing with her?" He looked pointedly at his aunt. "Oh right, you are dumping her off on me so your husband will not try to bed her." He shook his head and tossed back the rest of his drink.

Isabelle walked forward with her arms outstretched. "Sebastian, sweetheart..."

He lifted his hand to stay her. "I have a wedding to prepare for. Or did you forget that I am to be married in a few short hours?"

"Of course not... Can I do something for you?" She twisted her hands.

"No. I think you have done enough," he said with finality, feeling more betrayed with each step he took towards the open doorway. He stopped mid-step. Marguerite was standing in the middle of the foyer, her face flushed in anger or sadness... maybe both. Her violet eyes bore into his own with a look of sheer, unadulterated hatred that chilled him to the bone. Gooseflesh rose on his skin. He felt frozen in place, like so many of the marbled statuaries positioned around Ravenhurst's rooms. He knew he should say something... mayhap even sorry... but the words escaped him...

Finally, she broke her gaze and the lead weight he felt in his legs subsided. "I am late," he mumbled awkwardly and walked briskly past her, keeping his eyes downcast on the marble-checkered tiles of the foyer. He rounded the corner and took the steps two at a time up the winding staircase without ever looking back in her direction once.

Sebastian finished off the rest of his drink as his mind returned to the present. The flames had died down and were now nothing more than red embers glowing in the dim light. He chuckled a little. It was an empty, hollow sound. No wonder the chit left him at the altar. He could not blame her, really. Had he been in her shoes, he would have left himself at the altar as well. He found he had a healthy respect for her gumption. He did not think she had any. Apparently, he was wrong on that count, as well as a few others. She vanished that night without a trace. No body found, no misdeeds done, even though he did entertain the notion, if only for a moment, but he was not that terrible... or was he? He would never know for sure. Apparently, she ran as fast and as far as she could, and thereby had the last laugh. For, unless she was dead–with a body for proof and no misdeeds done to said body, he could not inherit one red cent.

Had he known that little bit of information at the time, perhaps he might have been kinder to her. A bark of laughter escaped his throat at the insanity of it all.

In truth, he probably would have tied her up and dragged her to the altar instead.

#  OVERSTAYING A WELCOME

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

BEFORE I finally made it to the bathroom, I had to wait out the maid. Once she was gone, I ran across the room and shut the door. I looked around for some toothpaste or mouthwash but there was nothing. Instead, I made use of a folded cloth on the side of the white porcelain pedestal sink. I rubbed my teeth, tongue, and repeatedly rinsed my mouth with water that tasted like rust.

The tiles were cold under my bare feet. When I hit the carpet, I scuffed my feet all the way back to the bed to get some warmth back in them.

Turns out, I was still at Ravenhurst...where else could I be? I couldn't help but wonder how many other people were overstaying their welcome. I hope I am not the only one.

I mentioned the other guests from the party to the maid but her only response was an owlish stare. Then right before the maid left the room, she told me not to move, that I needed my rest. I didn't argue, since I still had a half-assed headache.

Turning, I grabbed a pillow from behind and gasped. Several, tiny sneering cherubs perched on the bedposts greeted me. I turned around and found more at the end of the bed, gathered in a group, examining me. I made a face at them.

The carvings were extraordinary, but also weird. Seriously, who in the hell would choose to be watched by a gang of little ugly sneering cherubs, hanging above your head every night before you fell asleep? That was just begging for nightmares.

They were almost as bad as the gargoyles that were standing, crawling, or hanging from every surface inside and out of the entry and the foyer. Ned said it was creepy inside Ravenhurst, and he wasn't kidding. I just hoped he was still around, since he was my ride. If he left, I was screwed.

At least my headache had turned to a dull ache and my breath wasn't so bad anymore. My stomach grumbled and I wished I had some food. Reaching up, I pulled the heavy puke green velvet curtain back on the bed.

A glass shade globed lamp with flowers painted on the sides cast a faint yellowish glow on the little doily underneath on the bedside table. Little figurines of animals were placed around the edges but no telephone. Dang it!

Pulling back the covers, I sat up. A dragging noise sounded from the end of the room, where I couldn't see. It sounded like a heavy piece of furniture was being moved. A surge of panic shot through me and I froze. A faint shaft of light flowed in from a small opening in the curtains at the end of the bed. The light ray shifted...not once...but twice.

To stifle my gasp, I covered my mouth and tried to calm my growing sense of dread, hoping... saying it was only the maid, but I knew it wasn't. I had a terrible feeling that whatever or whoever it was had to be something horrible. I could feel it. I judged the distance across the room, trying to decide which would serve me better, fight, or flight...

I heard the noise again accompanied by raspy breathing. Oh hell no!

I chose flight.

Jumping from the bed, my bare feet barely touched the carpet as I leapt to the door. Grabbing the handle, I ripped it open and bolted through. Full speed, I rounded the corner and ran into a hard unyielding object. My flight for freedom ended abruptly. I collapsed to the floor and darkness enveloped me once more.

# WHAT WAS LOST CAN BE FOUND

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

SHE was back. How could that even be possible? Sebastian took the stairs two at a time, just like the last time he saw her. Except now, he ran towards her, instead of away. His mind, still too muddy from the alcohol to understand what his man Milford was saying. It sounded like "Marguerite has returned." Sebastian was in no mood for his valet-butler's humorless jokes. However, Milford was not kidding. He was deadly serious. So caught up in his own thoughts, Sebastian could not believe what he was seeing.

A flurry of white rounded the corner with long hair flying behind. He could not move fast enough. The girl hit him with such force, he lost his footing and tumbled backward. He strained to move, but she was dead weight. He tried again. Bloody hell! How drunk was he? He was not a weakling by any standards but still could not budge the girl.

The last time he saw Marguerite, she was no more than skin and bones. As he pushed against her now, he could see that was not the case any longer. Was she really ever that skinny? Or did she look that way because her gowns were always so large? He tried to remember, but he could not recall ever looking at her... really.

His head hurt like hell from slamming into the floor. He was stuck.

"MILFORD!" he yelled as loudly as he could. He heard footsteps approaching where he lay.

"Good heavens, my lord, what has happened?" Milford inquired, his voice tinged with laughter.

Sebastian looked up to see Milford's eyes tearing up.

He clenched his jaw. "Get her off me."

Milford bent down and rolled her slightly to one side.

It was enough for Sebastian to get out from under her body.

Standing up, he looked down at the girl on the floor.

"What happened?" Milford asked.

"She ran into me," Sebastian said, stating the obvious.

Milford crossed his arms as though he were a detective investigating a crime scene. "Why?"

"How do I know?"

Milford tapped his chin. "She must have been moving pretty fast to knock you over so easily."

"Yes. Is this line of questioning going somewhere?" Sebastian asked, annoyed.

"Do you not find it odd that she was running?"

"Why, yes, Milford, I do." Sebastian exhaled, exasperated, and ran his hand through his dark hair. It was longer now and kept falling in his eyes. He did not spend as much time attending to his appearance as he had in the past, not since the chit ran away. It seemed like she took something from him when she left, and he did not want to ponder what that could be.

"I do wonder what she was running from." Milford cast his eyes warily towards the end of the hall.

"Bloody hell Milford, how do I know? Mayhap she had a bad dream."

"Yes, probably a really bad dream," Milford, agreed readily.

Sebastian looked at Milford. He could swear his face turned paler. "Help me get her back into bed."

Milford stared down the hall for a moment longer.

"Milford."

"Right, sorry," he said, and bent over. He grabbed her legs and lifted her up in the air.

Sebastian reached under her arms and lifted her up with some effort. They quickly carried her back to bed. Once she was settled, Sebastian turned to Milford. "Have you called the doctor?"

Milford straightened the bedspread. "Yes, Dr. Dandridge will be here shortly, after he attends to another patient."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. Dr. Dandridge was Annabelle's husband. Perfect. That was all he needed.

"I will check to see if he has arrived." Milford walked around the bed and left the chamber.

Sebastian stood over Marguerite. "Where have you been?" he asked her sleeping form. "And more importantly, who have you been with?"

Granted, he had often heard stories about the fates of many young women after their so-called admirers had their way with them. Sebastian wondered if that was the case with Marguerite. Why else would she have come back?

He let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his face. He dropped his hands and let his gaze fall back down to the bed. She looked so innocent wrapped up in the pristine white cotton of her modest sleeping gown. The ruffled collar was undone and revealed the delicate curve of her neck and shoulder. Her light brown hair contrasted against her pale complexion. He noticed her face had filled out, and her lips looked fuller, sexier, than he remembered. Visions of his last encounter with Annabelle came into his mind...her lips were not nearly as full and lovely as Marguerite's...

Sebastian tensed, sensing a presence hovering in the doorway. Turning, he faced Milford, who had a resolute expression on his face. "Good Lord, man, what is it?" he asked more brusquely than necessary. Suddenly he felt like a child caught in the act of preparing to take a forbidden piece of candy.

Milford cleared his throat and tugged at his waistcoat to straighten his already immaculate appearance. "The doctor has arrived."

Sebastian kept his eyes on Marguerite. "Send him up."

"Certainly. I will return in just a moment," Milford warned.

Sebastian looked over his shoulder and gave Milford a sidelong glance as he departed, not missing the underlying warning in his tone. His eyes drifted to Marguerite once more. She seemed so changed since the last time he saw her. Or, was he the one who had changed in her absence?

"Good evening, my lord." Dr. Dandridge inclined his head politely towards the Earl of Ravenhurst upon entering the room fully.

"Good evening, Doctor. I will leave you to your examination, but please attend to her well. She is my betrothed."

Dr. Dandridge's small eyes widened at that statement. "Of course, my lord," he huffed excitedly, and hurried further into the room. He set his black bag on the end of the bed. He turned and rubbed the circulation into his thick hands before examining the patient. "I will do everything in my power to ensure she is able to wed you very soon, yes, very soon indeed."

"Thank you." Sebastian said, wondering about the good doctor's sudden enthusiasm. If he did not know better he would think the good doctor was aware of his intimate relations with his wife, and was more than happy to hear that Sebastian was going to be occupied elsewhere soon.

Sebastian would have to agree since Annabelle had been even more eager and demanding in bed than usual. Looking at the good doctor now, he could see why.

THE DANDRIDGE'S ♠ LONDON TOWNHOUSE

The moment he walked into her room, Annabelle gave him one of her hungry stares.

"What took you so long?" She shrugged out of her robe. The frothy pink material pooled on the ground at her feet. She stepped out of it with only her stockings and slippers on. Her wild red hair was swept up in a messy coiffure and her blue eyes were smudged with makeup. If he did not know better he would think she had been crying.

"Take off your clothes." She lifted her leg onto the chair and made a show of adjusting her stocking. With a wicked little smile, she turned slightly, and ran her hands up her body. Her hands cupped her breasts and she toyed with her already taut nipples.

Sebastian, watched. Normally, her little display would have evoked an immediate response. At the very least, he would have found it amusing, but not this time.

"What is taking you so long?" she cooed sweetly and leaned forward. "Adam will be home soon."

Sebastian did not move. He was suddenly wondering what in the bloody hell he was even doing here.

Annabelle frowned. "Sebastian," she whined and dropped her leg from the chair. "Take off your clothes, now!"

He cocked his brow at her, not liking her tone.

"I am getting cold," she said sweetly, coating her earlier outburst with sugar. She shivered for effect and slowly made her way over to him. She stepped closer, so her breasts were pressed against his chest. Leaning forward, she nuzzled his neck and slid her hands over his breeches and squeezed.

He stood there, letting her toy with him, but he was unresponsive. "Annabelle," he exhaled, "perhaps this is not such a good idea after all." He placed his hands on top of hers.

"Oh, do not be silly." She smiled wickedly. "It is merely cold in here," she breathed. "I will warm you up in no time." She rubbed him faster.

Sebastian noticed the worry in her voice, the trepidation. He had to admit he felt a little bad, but after Marguerite left him, something changed. He changed, he supposed.

Annabelle was not easily deterred though. She leaned forward and unfastened his breeches. Not even bothering to remove his boots she pulled down his breeches. Smiling coyly, she pushed him backward into the chair. She knelt down in front of him. "See is this not better," she said and pulled the pins from her hair. The length tumbled over his bare thighs, tickling them.

Leaning forward, she kissed the trail of dark hair just below his navel down his taut stomach and then she took his length into her mouth.

He inhaled sharply, and gripped the chair. "Yes, that is it."

Some of the stress he had been feeling began to fade away and he closed his eyes as she coaxed him to life with her tireless ministrations. Increasing the pressure with her lips, she suckled his length, teasing him with her tongue.

He threaded his fingers in her hair. "Hmmm, that's right love," he urged and his jaw clenched as she took him further into her mouth. Reaching out, he brushed her hair back and helped her move her head up and down. She took him to the back of her throat. He inhaled sharply. "Yes, that is it." His jaw clenched, and he held her head in place... he was so close...

She knew it too. She jerked her head back. "Sebastian!" She stood up. "What about me?" she pouted.

He cracked a lid open. "What about you?"

She reached up and wiped the spittle from her mouth. "You are not funny." She leaned forward, pressed her hands against his chest, and climbed on top of his lap, straddling him. Reaching down, she guided his length inside her body. Leaning forward, she licked his neck and ear.

"Sebastian," she sighed in exasperation. He kept slipping out. Again, she reached down to guide him back inside her body but he was losing his rigidness fast. "What's the matter with you?" she whined.

"I do not know," he said. "I guess I am not in the mood any longer."

Her eyes widened. "What? You can not mean that. This is the only time I will be able to see you for at least a month."

"I guess I can see you after then." Although if the truth were to be told, he was not too worried about it.

"Please, Sebastian," she begged and then leaned forward once more. She kissed his chest and neck. Her fingers caressed the slippery wetness as she squeezed and moved her hand faster over his length.

"Annabelle..." he breathed exasperated. He reached forward to still her hand. "You are rubbing my skin off."

"Oh do not be silly." She ignored him, rubbed her breasts against his chest, and kissed his stomach eagerly.

He ran his hands through his hair and uttered an expletive under his breath. "Annabelle... sorry, love, but this is not working."

"You just need a little of Annabelle's sugar and you will be right as rain." Reaching out she grabbed hold of his length again and squeezed harder.

In sudden pain, his breath hitched. "Sorry, sweet. I just do not see this happening tonight." He placed his hand over hers and pushed her back.

"Nonsense Sebastian," she whined. "Try to clear your mind, I know I can make it work." Her face twisted in an angry pout and she stood up. Walking over to the bed, she twitched her bare ass back and forth and made a big show of climbing up on the bed.

Sebastian stood up and refastened his breeches. He walked over to the bed.

She smiled up at him and reached down between her legs to toy with herself.

He watched her for a moment. Nothing. He felt nothing. There was no inclination whatsoever to take her up on the invitation she was so blatantly offering him. "I think I am going to go." He buttoned up his shirt.

"You are leaving?" She sat up. Anger flashed in her eyes. This time, she did not attempt to mask her frustration.

"Yes, Annabelle, I believe I am," Sebastian said without hesitation, surprised by his own candor.

"Well, take a good long look because if you leave now, this is the last time you will see me," she warned vehemently, fuming. "Do you understand?"

Sebastian pulled on his waistcoat. "Well if that is the way it has to be."

Her face twisted up with bitter indignation. And still, he felt nothing. It was funny. Should her remark not evoke some feeling from inside? But there was nothing. No sadness, anger, or remorse.

"Goodbye, Annabelle," he said and then turned on his heel and walked away. Her angry screams followed him out the door.

♦

His mind came back to the present. He looked back over at Marguerite lying on the bed. How sweet and innocent she appeared. Yes, he believed the good doctor was right... he may have someone else to occupy his time after all.

Sebastian watched from the window as Dr. Dandridge hoisted his heavy form into the waiting carriage. The footman closed the door and the carriage pulled away.

The prognosis was clear. Marguerite had a mild concussion and should be right as rain in no time at all. Dr. Dandridge even went so far as to say that he saw no reason why Sebastian could not wed her within the week. And if the good doctor had an ulterior motive, he did not outwardly show it. Sebastian wondered briefly if the good doctor would pass the news of his betrothed's return on to his wife. Knowing Annabelle, she would be livid. Well, such was life. He really did not care.

Turning away from the window, he strode toward the library, intent on getting a drink of his finest. He was barely inside the doors when he pulled up short in his progression.

"There you are, de Winter," Devlin said, turning fully around. He was holding an overfilled snifter of brandy. "I wondered where you had gotten to."

Sebastian quelled his irritation, watching Devlin Renquist, the new Lord of Hawthorne, his Aunt Isabelle's rakehell of a husband, sip his finest in his stead. The aged liquid sloshed over the side of his glass and spilled onto the carpet.

"Sorry, de Winter," Devlin said absently and took another drink. "This is good stuff." He lifted his glass, and more of the liquid spilled onto the carpet.

Ignoring the mess, Sebastian took a breath and walked over to get a drink of his own. "So, Renquist, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?" He really did not care for the man at all. However, he had been supportive when Marguerite disappeared, so Sebastian supposed he could afford him some kind of allowance. "What finds you out and about at this hour?"

"Oh, I was out for my evening ride and decided to take a moment to check on you." He tugged on his jacket, smoothing a wrinkle. "I wanted to see how you are faring in these difficult times and all that."

"How considerate of you." Sebastian was not buying it. "But surely you did not ride all this way simply to check on me?" Hawthorne Manor bordered his property, but it was at least a good hour's ride away.

Devlin brushed his hand over the sleeve of his jacket, smoothing out another nonexistent wrinkle. "Oh, you do read me so well. I hate to admit, but with your Aunt Isabelle and my sister Judith both in attendance, the walls of Hawthorne have a way of closing in on a man."

Sebastian splashed brandy in his own glass and lifted it up. He shook his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, although I do love my aunt dearly, well, let's just say, better you than me."

Devlin chuckled and shook his head in agreement. "Touché. Really, old boy, how are you faring? It has been quite some time since her disappearance."

"How am I faring?" Sebastian placed his glass on the mantel and stared down into the flames of the fire. "Funny you should ask." He paused and looked over his shoulder at Devlin. "It seems my elusive bride has returned to me."

Devlin coughed and spewed a good deal of his drink on the carpet again.

Sebastian did not mind the spill that time. He stepped forward and patted him on his back until his coughing fit subsided.

Devlin pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. "You have got to be kidding me? I am telling you, de Winter, I had no idea you had such a sick sense of humor."

Sebastian took a drink and lowered his glass. "I am absolutely serious. She is upstairs... resting." He walked back to the fireplace. Perhaps, resting upstairs, was not quite the right turn of phrase.

All color drained from Renquist's face.

Sebastian walked over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and smirked into the darkness. It served him right. "Unconscious is better." He turned from the window and took a deep breath. "Yes, Renquist, she is abed, upstairs, completely and totally unconscious." He dropped the curtain and walked back over to the mantle. Lifting his glass, he turned and sat down heavily in one of the winged chairs in front of the fire. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes.

Renquist followed his lead and sat just as heavily in the neighboring chair. "Bloody hell."

Sebastian lifted his glass in a silent salute and bade him a "Bloody hell," as well.

# LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING

Hawthorne Estate – Victorian England

"THAT Bitch!" Judith Alexandra Beauchamp rubbed her forehead, as if it caused her great pain to utter the next question. "Will she never die?" She pressed her fingertips to her temples and paced the length of the study, which made her dark blue, silk skirt, swirl out around her ankles.

"Calm down, love," Renquist said, trying to soothe Judith's temper. Casually sipping his brandy, he watched her display of outrage while admiring her petite frame and delicate features, silently hoping her small, but well- proportioned breasts, would soon escape their confines.

People on a whole were so gullible. They believed what they wanted to see, and although he and Judith shared slight similarities in their coloring, he would not have bought for a moment they were brother and sister. Isabelle, his newly acquired bride, was one of those people. Lucky for him—mayhap not too lucky for her though.

Judith stopped pacing and stared at the elegant blonde man in front of her. He was tall in stature, but on the thin side. He leaned against the mantel in a nonchalant pose, staring at her with the most penetrating black eyes.

"In all likelihood, she will not even remember what happened," he said casually. "You did say her back was turned. We can always spin the story to our satisfaction and say the bump on her head caused her to think things happened, which really did not."

"I certainly hope for both our sakes that is the case, Devlin. If not, let me remind you, should she indeed remember, we will be ruined. Ruined, Devlin! Do you understand?" Judith nearly screamed out the last.

Devlin cringed. He did not take kindly to anyone yelling at him, or in his direction, for that matter. Clutching his drink a little too tightly, his ire rose. "Well, sweet, if you recall, you are the one that fouled up the attempt in the first place."

"How was I to know she would survive? I hit her as hard as I could! There was blood pouring out of her head. At least—I think that was blood. I really can not say for sure though, with all that hair she always had pulled up into some concoction her maid created." Judith rubbed her arms for effect. "My arms still hurt just thinking how hard I hit her. It jarred me terribly." She delicately shuddered as if the memory still caused her great pain. "If Magdalene, de Winter's blasted housekeeper had not been yelling for her, I would have stayed to make sure my strike was true. But someone had to go in her stead, or else that meddlesome housekeeper, who I might add, oversteps her boundaries quite often, would have come into the gallery. Of course, she would have assumed the worst."

Renquist chuckled. "Love, as far as the housekeeper assuming the worst, let us be honest, she certainly would have been correct in her assumption. You are the culprit in this. You did do the dastardly deed, remember?"

"Because you would not, Devlin. And if you will recall, I told you to take her riding and dump her in that ravine de Winter's father fell into." She stomped her foot. "In addition, I might add, if you could control your most basic urges, she would not have seen us together." She rolled her eyes. "Of course, it was her own fault, if she were not so blasted nosey, none of this would have occurred in the first place."

"That is neither here nor there," he said. "I say, you should be thanking me, not scolding me. At least, give me credit for my acting abilities. Do you not realize how difficult it was for me to feign concern? Not to mention having to listen to de Winter persecute himself for her disappearance. I say, I should be given a lead role on Drury Lane after the performance I gave." Turning, he inspected his reflection in the mirror behind him. Satisfied, he continued, "I must admit to being a bit unsettled with her mysterious return, and getting a blow to her head... it does sound a bit too tidy."

Devlin paused and crossed his arms across his chest, tapping his chin, contemplating... there was always the legend to consider, stories were told, rumors spread... Ravenhurst was an ominous place to be sure.

What happened to all of those ill-gotten treasures? What blackened the noble knight's heart? What really happened to the poor woman? Was it the house itself? Or some other dark force at play?

Bits and pieces of the legend had been swirling about for years and years. Everyone told a slightly different version... some added... some took away parts. No one ever knew the truth of the legend itself, but it surrounded the ancient edifice, just like the heavy curtain of fog that never seems to fade.

Over the years, the legend took on a life of its own... like a living, breathing thing. The only time Devlin ever heard mention of the legend was in harried tones, whispered in dark taverns, or the dim corners of crowded ballrooms. They were always hushed as though someone or something was listening.

Forcing his attention back to Judith, he tried to shake off the sudden unease that spread over him. "I do wonder where she has been all this time. I say, it is a good thing I do not give credence to magic or mystical rubbish, or else I believe we would both be in for a day of reckoning." Despite telling Judith and reassuring himself, it did not stop him from shivering slightly.

"Well, that is certainly something to think on at a later date. But since we have no answers in the foreseeable future, may I suggest we find something else to occupy our time?" Judith purred. She pulled down most of her bodice to expose herself to Devlin as she made her way across the room. Standing on her toes she leaned into him and ran her hand down the length of his chest to the place she so liked to frequent of late.

Devlin watched her. He knew she was keeping something from him. He could always tell. Nevertheless, he would bide his time, and eventually, find out. In the meantime, he planned to take full advantage of the delectable treat she was offering so freely. She did so aim to please when she had secrets to keep. "Since my dear wife will be indisposed for an undetermined amount of time, may I suggest we continue this particular conversation upstairs?" He smiled and took Judith's hand, placing it through his arm. "

"Yes, that sounds perfect." Judith smiled.

Arm in arm, they climbed the stairs to the bedroom—a knowing smile crossed his face, for he knew what pleasures were to come in the not so distant future.

# NOT ALONE

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

THE early morning sun spilled slowly through the windows, chasing shadows from the room. He sat silently in the corner where the light did not reach, watching her every move. Each step she took in the bright morning light gave him another glimpse of her naked body through the prim little gown she was wearing. Her long hair tumbled down her back, barely touching the top of her heart-shaped derriere. She stopped in the middle of the room, slowly turning, giving him another peek of her full round breasts as the palest shade of pink, cresting the tips came into view. He had no idea she was such a delectable treat. Pity he did not know this from the start else he may not have been so opposed to the marriage in the first place.

♦

The bright sun vanquished almost all the gloom from the room. I padded barefoot across the room to do some investigating before I left. The lovely, floral carpet absorbed my every step in the softness of the pile. A huge mirror was against the wall on the far end of the room, its frame ornately carved with vines and flowers. Three large, gold, skeleton keys clung to the tops of the vines themselves. Reaching up, I placed my hand on one and caught my reflection in the mirror. The bright sun slid across my borrowed sleeping gown turning the billows of white fabric transparent in its light. My hair stuck out all over my head—one long curl jutted out to the right while another formed a knotty ball on the top. Dark circles loomed under my eyes. "Good grief, what the heck happened to my hair?" Damn champagne.

I pulled the gown outward. The bottom was full and ruffled and... Yep—completely see through...Weird.

Question to self: "Where did you get this gown?

Better question to self: "Who in the heck put you in this gown?" I groaned from that embarrassing thought and turned away from the mirror. Halfway across the room, I froze in mid-step. I had a bad feeling that I was not alone. Slowly I turned... in the corner, where the sunlight could not reach, there was a chair, and in that chair was a man... his face hidden in the shadows. My heart thumped erratically.

The man in the chair slowly stood and began to emerge from the shadows. He stepped into the light...

"Ah... um!" Embarrassed, I crossed my legs and arms over my chest to cover my body in the transparent gown. By the look on his face, I knew it didn't really work. I could tell because he smiled and it wasn't a normal smile... at least not on his face. It was a heart stopping one. I knew this because my heart stopped in that moment.

"Would you like this?" He lifted a light wool plaid blanket off the back of the chair.

"Yes," I squeaked and my cheeks heated.

The carpet muted the sound of Sebastian's brightly polished hessians as he closed the distance between them. He lifted the blanket, shook it out, and placed it across her shoulders. Her messy hair tumbled forward, covering most of her face as she stared at the floor. Her hand clutched the blanket tightly to the front of her body.

"Forgive my intrusion," he said simply. "I found myself particularly concerned with your well-being after our collision in the hall earlier and wanted to ascertain you were not harmed."

His voice was rich and dark, just like my favorite chocolate and not surprisingly, I found it had a similar effect. I moistened my lips and forced my gaze up to his.

Big mistake.

His stormy gray eyes bore down into mine. I wanted to say something, anything, but I could find no words. Well that wasn't completely true... hot... wow... oh my. They all would have worked but I wouldn't say any of those out loud, ever.

"Are you all right?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

I tried to talk but my voice was stuck somewhere between oh my and holy crap. "Yeah... uh... I think." I swayed on my feet. He reached forward and steadied me. He smelled wonderful... fresh. Like the wind, with a hint of leather, sandalwood, and something headier, a pungent scent that burned my nose a bit. A sudden wave of déjà vu hit me. I placed my hand on his chest... his muscles flexed under my hand as he held me in place. I slowly lifted my eyes from his chest to his chin... his mouth...

Sebastian gathered the blanket in one hand, returning her unwavering gaze. It was strange. The look she was giving him and it confused him. He remembered all too clearly the look of hatred in Marguerite's eyes the last time she saw him. Now, suddenly, she was looking at him hungrily, like Annabelle had, scratch that, maybe not quite like Annabelle but something similar. Like she wanted to be touched by him or at the very least kissed by him. He would not mind doing either actually but something gave him pause. This was not the Marguerite he remembered. Something did not add up and he did not like it one bit. She stared at him like a love-struck girl. Had she changed so much? Was she no longer an innocent? Even so, why would she look at him with longing? He could not fathom the answers to any of his questions. The longer his gaze held hers, the more her deep blue eyes drew him in. Suddenly he could care less what she was doing—he wanted to taste her...

Lifting his hand, he gingerly placed his finger under her chin and slowly lowered his face to hers... his lips hovering just above...

A knock sounded at the door, breaking the spell.

Sebastian dropped his hand and stepped away from the girl. "Enter," he called out.

The door creaked open and a young maid scampered into the room carrying a covered tray. "I have the food my lord." She bobbed her head as she rushed into the room and placed the tray on a small table near the fire. Grabbing hold of the table, she turned it and then positioned the chairs on either side.

Sebastian curiously watched Marguerite. He noticed the dark blush of color that crept up her lovely neck and spread across her cheeks, and the way her eyes darted about the room, looking at anything but him—was that embarrassment he saw... apprehension? He was not sure which, but he began to feel like an unprecedented cad. A true gentleman would not make untoward advances toward a young woman, especially one who had been unconscious. Of course, he did have a singular excuse—he was not a true gentleman.

"Excuse me, my lord," the maid said and dropped into a curtsy.

"Yes Tabby."

"Is there anything else, my lord?" she asked in a small voice and straightened once again.

Horrified, I pulled the blanket closer around my body as he continued to speak to the maid... his tone authoritative, his clothing unusual, his face... perfection. Where did he come from? I didn't remember him from the party last night. Even though it was obvious, he was there since he was still dressed in period attire and so was the maid, correction maids, since she was different from the one I saw earlier, which was just weird. I wracked my brain but I didn't remember the maids wearing ugly gray gowns at the party. Not that I really cared what the maids wore.

Lifting his hand, he ran it through sinfully dark hair. The long glossy strands fell effortlessly back into place. My eyes traveled back to his lips. I couldn't help but wonder if he would have actually kissed me and if he did would I have kissed him back? My little voice laughed at me. Please, no question about it—yep, I totally would have kissed him and I was a little sad the moment was now gone.

"Yes, Tabby there is. Please draw our guest a bath," he answered smoothly, glancing back in her direction.

My ears zeroed in on the last part of the conversation. Is that why he pulled away? Oh no, did I smell? Please don't stink... please don't stink. I inhaled deeply trying to see if I stunk. I couldn't smell anything but that didn't mean I didn't stink. I had a sudden urge to make a break for it and run into the bath. But I didn't. I suffered through the embarrassment and stayed right where I was and stared stupidly at the carpet.

Sebastian took a step forward but stopped himself. "Please sit down and eat something," he said, lifting his arm towards the chair.

"Oh-kay. " I rushed over and sat down quickly. There were ten yellow flowers in a cluster on the carpet under his shiny black boots. The aroma of delicious food wafted towards me and my empty stomach growled. Right then, I hated my stomach.

Sebastian cleared his throat, twice. He was attempting to get her to look up from the floor at him but it was not working. At this rate he would be here all day. "After you have finished your repast and bathe of course, I would like for you to meet me down in the library."

I gripped the arms of the chair. Oh no, did he just stress the word bathe more than necessary. I felt sick. "Certainly," I answered him, still staring at the carpet. I was afraid to look up. Afraid of what I might see in his eyes—that I did stink.

"My lord, the bath is drawn."

"Thank you Tabby. Please come back shortly to help your lady dress."

"Of course, my lord, I will be back directly," the maid answered quickly and hurried from the room.

Sebastian stood beside her for a moment more—nothing. She did not move an inch, which he thought was a bit strange. He leaned down slightly trying to see her face. "Very well then, I shall leave you to your meal."

I jerked slightly. He was close... too close. My eyes flew up to his, another big mistake. He had a strange look on his face, and his smile looked strained. Granted I didn't really know him well enough to tell if his smile was real or not—but it didn't look good. He looked irritated, which couldn't be right—what did I do? Without another word, he turned and left. The door made a soft clicking noise as he pulled it tightly closed behind him.

In relief, I fell back against the cushion of the chair and removed the cover on the food. I was starving. Not surprisingly, I ate everything on the plate, even though I had no idea what half of it was.

When the maid knocked and reentered the room, I was practically licking the plate clean.

"My lady, is there anything else you need?" The maid gave me a strange look.

I sat the plate back on the table as the maid's eyes followed my every move. The girl could not be more than fourteen or fifteen years old. Her hair was in the same style as the previous maid (the one that said my face was a mess) but this girl had light blonde hair, styled much the same way with one exception—this girl's hair looked clean. Her clear blue eyes wrinkled around the corners as she gave me a tentative smile.

"Actually... Tabby?"

"Yes, milady?" she answered pleasantly.

"Could you help me find something other than this to wear?" I lifted up the hem of the frilly gown.

"No worries milady. All of your belongings are just where you left them. I will have a nice gown laid out for you by the time you are finished with your bath. Do you need me to help you bathe this evening?"

"Oh God no."

The girl gave me another strange look.

"I will be fine on my own, thank you." Help with my bath? Seriously? What was with these people?

"If you do not mind, then, I will carry the tray down and return shortly to help you dress, if that is your wish."

"Sure, great, I mean... ah, that will be fine." I tried my best to sound refined and sophisticated, but if the look on the girls face was any indication on how I was doing so far, I was failing miserably.

The maid quickly grabbed the tray up off the table and took off across the room. She paused at the door. "I will return shortly."

"Thank you." Once the girl was gone, I leaned back into the chair again and rubbed my hands over the slick damask material and smiled. I could certainly get used to this kind of service. This must be what it felt like to be a royal. With a full stomach, I stood and walked over into the bath. The tiles were cold on my bare feet and slightly wet from the hot steam in the room from the bathwater. There was a claw-footed tub, positioned to the side. Lifting up the frilly gown, I pulled it over my head, dropped it on the floor, and then climbed in the tub.

♦

Fifteen minutes later, I climbed from the bath even though I would have liked to stay in it longer but I didn't want to keep the mysterious man waiting. I had no idea if anyone else was left from the party but I guessed I would find out soon enough. The little dinky linen towel the maid had set beside the tub was barely enough to dry my body off properly. There was however, a robe draped across a lone wooden chair that sat in the corner of the room. The rich, blue fabric felt heavy, like brocade and had a dark corded edge. Lifting the robe, I put it on. It was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but it was also fashioned in the Victorian style. What was with these people?

Tabby was true to her word, she had clothing laid out on the bottom of the bed and not just any clothing either. There was an incredible, light celadon-colored evening dress with a satin bodice with a full pleated skirt and delicate crocheted buttons down the front. Reaching out, I fingered the material. It felt divine. Ned would freak if he saw these. I ran my hand over the slick material. Beside the gown were undergarments, stockings and another pair of toe crushers that matched the darker edging on the gown. Just looking at them made me wiggle my sore toes in the carpet.

Belatedly, I remembered my "borrowed" necklace. It wasn't on my neck, obviously. Briefly scanning the room, I noticed my gown wasn't anywhere in sight either. Ned would kill me if something happened to his gown.

At the end of the spacious room, there was a large wardrobe. I walked over to it. It was made of heavy wood, like the bed with carvings of animals on the front, and reminded me of the wardrobe in the movie, Narnia. I couldn't help but wonder if it had a secret door to another world in the back too. As soon as the fanciful thought entered my mind, a gentle breeze blew against me and the hair on the nape of my neck stood on end. Instinctively, I pulled my hand back from the handle....

A light rap sounded at the door.

"Come in." I backed away from the wardrobe.

The door creaked loudly and Tabby peered around the corner with a cheerful expression on her face.

"Tabby, thank goodness it's you."

Tabby walked around the door, and smoothed her hands down the front of her apron. "You look like you had a fright," she said.

"This place makes some strange noises doesn't it?" I said, trying to make small talk.

"I would think you would be used to it by now," Tabby said offhandedly and hurried across the room to the dressing table. She picked up a hairbrush. "Now milady just come over to the dressing table, and get comfortable. I will be fixing your lovely hair in no time."

I walked over and sat in the little chair in front of the gilded dressing table. An uneasy feeling gathered in the pit of my stomach and I didn't think it was merely from drinking too much the evening before. No, I wouldn't be that lucky.

# DENIAL

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

A SHORT while later, I stood in front of the gilded mirror, admiring my reflection. Tabby pulled my hair loosely back and intertwined a matching ribbon through it. Even to my critical eyes, I had to admit I looked even better than I did at the ball the previous evening.

"His lordship is certainly going to like the looks of you, milady," Tabby said, eyeing me appreciatively.

"Do you really think so?" I nervously ran my hands down the length of the gown.

"Oh yes, only a blind man could not see how beautiful you are."

I blushed from the maid's praise and looked back in the mirror.

"Now milady, you must be off so as to not keep his lordship waiting for you."

I still had a knot twisted in my belly but tried to ignore it. With one last look in the mirror, and after another encouraging smile from Tabby, I left the room.

Once in the hall however, I thought about turning around and heading right back into the bedroom. The darkly paneled walls of the hallway made it feel creepy, and the small flickering sconces on the walls did not do much to push the gloom away either. The skirts on my gown made the softest swishing noise against the runner carpet as I passed several closed doors, which were set back into the wall. I noticed the alcoves were big enough for a person to easily hide within the shadows. That thought made me pick up my pace.

"How big is this place?" By the time I made it to the top of the staircase, I was slightly winded. I looked over the railing down into the foyer. It was a perfect bird's eye view. It was not what I remembered from the previous evening. Perhaps I did not see the foyer as clearly as I thought. It was crowded. Who knew? Maybe I was at another part of the house entirely.

A shiver of dread swept over me and I told myself I didn't care, but something felt off, as if I was in the same place, but it wasn't the same. It didn't make sense and it didn't help get rid of the uneasy feeling I had either. Taking a bracing breath, I lifted the hem of my gown and gripped the banister with my other hand.

Walking carefully down the stairs, my hand slid easily on the polished wood. Once at the bottom of the stairs I lifted my eyes and froze... a large ugly gargoyle leered at me—now that thing I remembered from the night before. I stuck my tongue out at it and shivered when it seemed to sneer back in my direction. Hugging the railing, I stepped around the side and tried to keep as far away from the ugly gargoyle as possible.

Walking briskly, my heels made a soft clicking sound on the marbled floor and echoed throughout the hall as I made my way over to a huge set of doors to my right that were cracked open. Light flickered from underneath, causing shadows to move back and forth. "This better be the library."

One would have thought the lord of the estate would have given me an escort, at least. And where were the rest of the servants? Another distinct chill passed over me as I peeked in the doors, like a spy. I immediately spotted the man from earlier. His broad back was facing me. Again, I noticed he was dressed in period clothing. This time he wore a smartly tailored black coat and trousers. Regardless of my growing trepidation, I couldn't help feeling a small tingle of excitement at the prospect of speaking to him again. Gathering my nerve, I took a deep breath and pushed against the edge of the door. The door slid quickly inside the pocket in the wall and banged loudly.

Sebastian swung his head around at the noise.

"Sorry," I mumbled embarrassed as my face heated.

"No problem." He did not know what he expected but the girl in front of him now was not who he remembered in the least. No, she looked beautiful, breathtaking even. Funny, he could not remember her ever looking so lovely before, or so grown up. He inclined his head toward one of the chairs in front of the fire.

"Please sit," he instructed and pushed away from the mantle. "I see you made your way here unaided." He walked casually toward the sideboard across the room. "I will admit I had wondered if you would remember. It has been some time." He looked over his shoulder when she did not say anything. "Would you care for a drink?"

A crease formed between my brows. Been sometime... what? Why were these people talking to me like I lived here? First the maid and now him...I shivered in spite of the heated flush that was spreading over my body from the door incident. "Ah... yeah...sure, that would be nice, thank you," my voice shook slightly, and I pressed my now freezing fingers to my hot face. It was like my body was at odds with itself.

Stop it. Stop it. I was psyching myself out. While his back was turned, I hurried over to the chair he indicated and sat down. I sat up as straight as I could and put my hands on the arms of the chair. It didn't feel right. I lowered my hands to my lap. That didn't feel right either but I kept them there. It was uncomfortable though. The gown was squeezing my belly and I couldn't breathe right.

Sebastian picked up the decanter and poured two hefty splashes of scotch into a pair of glasses. He took longer than necessary. His mind conjuring an image of her body, the way it had looked earlier in the sun, through the transparency of her gown which left nothing to the imagination. Not like the gown she was wearing now. He shook himself. Damn. What was he thinking about that for?

In his own defense, it had been a while since he had been with a woman. He turned away from the sideboard, and carried the glasses across the room, vowing to remedy that problem very soon. He held out the glass to her and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He was not sure why he felt he needed to do that but she did look a bit skittish. Actually, she reminded him of his prize filly... beautiful, but easily spooked. And that was the last thing he wanted to do. He needed her.

I tried to smile at him but it came out looking more wary than friendly. Reaching out, I took the proffered glass. "Thank you." I immediately lifted the heavy crystal glass to my mouth and took a large gulp... too large. The liquor burned... bad. My eyes teared up but I forced myself to swallow anyway. It was either that or I was going to spit the liquor back out all over the front of my gown or his shirt. I leaned forward, set the glass heavily down on the table, and fanned my face.

"Yes, it does have a hefty kick." He took a small sip, watching her over the rim of his glass as her face turned several shades of red. Lowering his glass, a rare smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Are you all right?"

I wheezed. "I'm good. Gre... at..."

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out to me.

Taking the starched linen from his outstretched hand, I wiped my tearing eyes and then looked up at him.

Immediately I wanted to cover my face again. His perfect face was an unreadable mask. He probably thought I was an idiot. I smiled tentatively up at him, neatly folded the fine white linen handkerchief, and handed it back to him.

"No, you keep it," he said, his dark gray eyes glittering with amusement.

I balled the handkerchief.

"Are you better? Would you like some water perhaps?" he asked and then took a sip of his drink.

"Oh, no, I am fine. I just did not know this stuff was so strong." I lifted the drink back off the table and held it in the air.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "It is an acquired taste."

I wondered who in the hell would want to acquire a taste for this crap. But thinking that didn't stop me from taking another nervous sip. This time it only burned a little bit. I would have asked for water but I knew what that tasted like... crap. And my stomach still didn't feel too good. No, I would suffer through the liquor.

"So...," I cleared my throat and set the glass back down. "Are there any guests leftover from the party? Or am I the only one who overstayed their welcome?" I forced out a laugh, hoping he would reassure me that was not the case.

"Party?" He lifted his brow. "What party are you speaking of?"

My stomach clenched. "The one that was held here last night..." I said. His face was void of expression. "For the Preservation Ball?" My voice rose an octave.

His eyes narrowed. "There was no party here last night, or any other night in the recent past... well... at least, not since you left," he said, his deep voice barely audible.

"What?" I sat forward in the chair. "I never left. I am still here. What are you talking about?" I was feeling more unsettled by the moment. What in the hell was this man speaking of?

"I am talking about when you left me standing at the altar," he said. His annoyance was very clear as he looked at me in disbelief. "Come now, do you really expect me to believe you can not remember?" he commented snidely, anger flashing in his eyes.

"I did no such thing." Taking a breath, I tried to calm down, even though I didn't know why I was suddenly so angry. It must have been his crappy tone. "With your attitude, I can see why, though," I muttered under my breath.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Sebastian was not sure if he heard her right.

Immediately, I regretted my words. "Listen, I do not mean to be disrespectful, but, as I said, I came here last night with a friend. I guess he decided to leave me here so he could go off with this other girl..." I trailed off when I saw his face.

It all became painfully clear to Sebastian. He was right. She had been with another, used and tossed aside. And now, what was he supposed to do? Marry her? If he refused, he would lose everything. He took another long pull of his drink.

I started to feel sorry for him. His jaw clenched as though something or someone was inflicting great pain upon him and if I wasn't mistaken that person was me. But I didn't understand the how's or why's. So I tried to placate him. Standing, I reached over, placed my hand on his sleeve, and patted it gently. "I am sure he will be back for me soon, so try not to worry too much. I'll be gone before you know it."

Cold rage filled his eyes. "Like hell you will!" he roared.

The back of my legs pressed up against the chair as I took a reflexive step back.

He ran his hands over his face and then lowered them. "Sorry." He shook his head his dark hair fell across his brow.

"It's okay." I sat back down.

"No it is not." He paced back and forth in front of me and then sat in the chair across from me again. "I do not know how to explain this to you..." he said, pausing, carefully considering his next words. " As far as I am concerned, you made your own bed. You came back to me, whether by your own design or someone else's...." He waited a beat, thinking she would defend herself, tell him that was not the case. But she did not. Something twisted deep inside his belly. He raked his hand through his hair. "Actually, I do not really give a damn either way." He exhaled and looked pointedly at me. "You are going to marry me and after that, I could care less what you do. Do you understand?"

Suddenly very afraid, I nodded in submission. He was out of his freaking mind. What in the hell was he going on about? Marry him? Had I not known better, I might think he was jealous. He certainly looked jealous. How in the hell could he be jealous when he only just met me?

Okay, so maybe there had been a moment earlier in the room, but really, it was only for a moment. Besides, it was not as if he couldn't call me at some point, granted he was acting a little out there but maybe he was just confused or stopped taking his medication... perfect. Maybe I wasn't that desperate, what a shame though, all that gorgeousness going on and he was probably crazier than a loon.

"Good, I am glad you understand."

I reached over and grabbed my glass. The crystal felt almost warm on my freezing fingers as my eyes slid instinctively back to his face. He was so... I wanted to give him a hug and tell him everything was going to be fine. I was being stupid but I didn't know why I was so unaccountably drawn to him, but then again I didn't have the best track record picking guys. Crazy or not, he did seem familiar. But why? And what was with all the period attire? He was a lot like the man from my work that showed up with the necklace. He seemed so...

A cold sweat broke out on my face. The gentlemen's voice echoed through my mind... "If you wear this necklace when the moon is full and the stars align just right... otherworldly things will happen."

Oh, no, no, no... I looked about the room, which was an exact replica of a Victorian library. My mind balked. No, it couldn't be the necklace. If I believed that then I might as well start believing in Vampires, the sparkly ones, and why not toss in a wolf or two as well. Heck, if I was going to start buying into all that... I may as well go all in.

Besides, he was probably just some crazy eccentric, anyway. Nothing wrong with that... I tried to tell myself but my mind had other ideas as it started to taunt me again.... He thinks you are his missing soon to be bride... okay so that is weird. Weirder still... what happened to her? She probably ran off with a stable lad... My overactive imagination was in full swing now. I went to a party... got sloshed, and woke up where? What were the odds I happened upon a delectable man, dressed as if he should be in some kind of reenactment troupe, yelling at me because he thought I was another person?

I rubbed my fingers back and forth on the arm of the chair nervously. He stopped pacing at least. Now he was running his hand through his hair making it stand on end. I had a sudden urge to fix it. The muscle in his jaw was tight; he looked so upset.

I tried to rationalize his actions. What if he was convinced I was this other girl? If he thought that, then I must be her twin. And, if I was her twin, what happened to the real girl? I reached out to the table and picked up the glass. This time I welcomed the burn as I gulped the rest of the drink down. I shakily extended the glass out. "May I have another?"

"Of course." He inclined his head, took the glass, and walked back over to the sideboard.

As I watched him from across the room, I was finding it hard to believe he was insane. Maybe after a couple of nights in Bedlam, he would be right as rain.

Ned once told me that was where Victorian gentlemen liked to put women when they were suffering from PMS (premenstrual syndrome). Luckily, Bedlam was not an option now. If I was around during the Victorian England time frame, I'm sure I would have been sent off in a one-way carriage ride to that place in the not too distant future. I really needed to get the hell out of here... but how. I looked around the room. The fire hissed and made a crackling noise.

There was no phone, television, or even a computer. The chandelier was gas lit, if I was not mistaken. Okay fine, so maybe there were a few people who really got into historical accuracy, but really, nothing from modern day. Nope, way too much.

Sebastian walked back towards her, scrutinizing her movements. She looked like she was about to bolt straight out of her seat. He wondered if she would run, and if she did what could he do to stop her. He would be damned if he let her go before he got what he needed, which was a bride, and not just any bride either. Only she would do, thanks to his aunt and that damned codicil.

Controlling his features, he got his emotions in check. He did not want to frighten her. The last thing he wanted to do was tie her up, but if it came down to it, he would. Of this, he was certain. "Here you go." He handed off her drink and gave her a small smile, meant to reassure.

"Thank you." I took the glass and immediately drank another large sip.

Sebastian resumed his silent vigil in front of the fire. Normally, he never lost control. He was better than that. But she was acting so strange, but then again the last time he saw her he thought the very same thing.

Who knows, mayhap the blow to her head made her invent things that had not really happened? He read that head injuries could cause all sorts of hallucinations, waking nightmares and such. He also knew people were sent to Bedlam to recover from their maladies, but had yet to hear of one person who actually returned. He certainly hoped that would not be the case with Marguerite... or did he?

Now that was a thought. He could marry her and send her off to Bedlam! Why not? It would take care of his problem, would it not? Now that was something to ponder...

An overwhelming urge came over me to bolt from the room. Sitting in one place and not moving was beginning to freak me out. My mind was spinning uncontrollably. Setting down the glass, I pushed out of the chair and stood. Sneaking peeks at him from under my lashes, I picked back up my drink and casually walked toward the window. With a shaking hand, I pulled the curtain aside that was a dark burnished color and reminded me of the fabric on the bed. It was probably velvet. My hands were sweating, I was so nervous. Casually, I dragged my hand down the curtain and wiped the sweat off on the fabric.

There was not much to see out the window with the lights on in the room, I saw more of my own reflection than what was outside. It was too dark. Pressing in closer, I tried to see some kind of light off in the horizon that would normally light up some part of the night sky. That was odd.

When I arrived with Ned, there were lights everywhere. I especially enjoyed the view of the village in the distance, like twinkling stars in the night. I looked up at the sky. There was not a cloud in sight. Something was definitely wrong...very, very, wrong, with this entire situation.

It was too quiet. Releasing the curtain, the fabric swished back against the wooden floor. "Nice place you have here." I walked over to the desk and set my glass down on the polished surface of the wood. A copy of Scientific American dated over one hundred years ago was open on top. The paper was pristine, the ink vibrant. I flipped a few pages, noting how crisp they felt, like new. In this particular copy, steam locomotives were recently invented.

I cleared my throat and looked cautiously towards his back. He was still facing the fire, but I had a feeling he knew exactly where I was the entire time. "So what are your feelings on the new steam locomotive systems?" I asked on a whim, expecting him to laugh and say it happened over a hundred years ago.

Sebastian turned slightly, his expressive gray eyes rounded in surprise. It was not every day a woman wanted to discuss such marvels. He turned fully, warming to the subject and inclined his head in her direction. "I see you have found the journal. It is all quite fascinating, really. Imagine using steam engines as a way to traverse all over the countryside. I have to say, I have found myself, as well as many others who have great hopes for the future with this new form of transportation..."

He continued, but I stopped listening. I didn't need to, not after having seen firsthand the expression of excitement that lit up his face as he spoke about traversing the countryside in a... train—A train? Good Lord, what would he do if I asked about a plane? Gulping air, I tried to take a breath and walked in a trance-like state over to the floor to ceiling bookcase on the wall. Rows of leather-embossed books with gilded pages lined the shelves. I pulled one out and looked inside, hoping it was Easton Press, or something similar. That was not the case though. Each book I pulled out had an even earlier copyright than the last, all before the nineteen hundreds. Some even had Roman Numerals, which predated copyrights, and yet, they looked as new as the hundred-year-old Scientific Journal I had just read. All of the books were in impeccable condition, no yellowing, no spine damage, not even an earmark.

The more I looked at the things in the room, the more unsettled I became. The house may have been historically accurate, but shouldn't there have been something from the modern day around the room? Or in the room where I was staying, somewhere? Nothing even remotely came close to modern day conveniences. The longer I thought about it, the stronger my unease grew.

Everything was from the past. Looking across the room at him, leaning against the mantel, I knew somehow that he was not from modern day either. His look, mannerisms, choice of words, and everything about him were gentle reminders of a forgotten time.

My knees gave out. To steady myself, I grabbed hold of the desk and ran my hand across the polished wood, the burled mahogany a vibrant orange. It was perfect as well... not a ding, dent, or scratch marring the surface..., which was almost impossible on a piece this old. It had to be a reproduction, even though, somehow, I knew it wasn't.

My face felt hot. I pulled myself along the desk, holding on as I made my way back to the sideboard. I took a shaky breath and refilled my glass. Mindful of his watchful eyes, I downed it in one gulp. I didn't care, not one wit. It was either that or I was going to lose it, completely.

The strange gentleman's warnings about the necklace echoed in my mind again, along with Ned's words about the treasure of Ravenhurst. Were they connected? Did the damn dress have something to do with it? I discarded that notion as quickly as another entered my mind. It was the necklace. The blood-red stone, was that the treasure? Oh no! What have I done?

The glass clanked loudly against the wood on the desk as I set it down. As he turned towards me, I gauged the distance to the door. Gathering my skirts in my hand, I walked quickly across the room as my mind screamed, "Get out before it's too late," but I had nowhere to go.

"Excuse me. I am feeling a bit under the weather. Would you mind if I went back to my room for the evening?"

Sebastian rolled his shoulders and then lifted his hand to the back of his neck, and rubbed it for a moment.

His beautiful face, it was stern... unreadable. What would he do? I leaned forward a little for effect. It worked on Ned.

Sebastian's expression softened a bit. He had to admit she looked deathly pale, and judging by the way she was leaning over, perhaps something disagreed with her stomach.

"You know, Marguerite, you may call me Sebastian. In case it has slipped your mind, we are to be married soon and we will be on a very familiar basis shortly. Do you not think it would be prudent for you to start acting the part?" he asked softly.

I blinked. His fiancées name was Marguerite. That was a pretty name. "Yes, of course, ah... Sebastian... if you say so." I tried to smile at him, but couldn't. I felt ill. I glanced over at the gargoyle. It looked like it was laughing at me. I narrowed my eyes at it, preparing to say something like... stop looking at me... but didn't. I walked quickly from the room, directly to the front door. A little voice mocked me from somewhere... Run, run, run... if you can. I wasn't sure if it came from my mind or somewhere else. Suddenly, I wondered if this was how Dorothy felt when she woke up in Oz, with all the little people, squawking, "Ding -dong, the witch is dead!" I looked down at my shoes. Nope, they definitely weren't ruby slippers and I was no Dorothy. My mind balked at the absurdity of it all.

Could it be possible that I somehow managed to travel into the past? Or was I simply losing my mind? Maybe it was a dream. I had to think. Turning away from the door, I grabbed the banister.

Another little voice snickered in the distance. This time I heard little feet running away. I wasn't sure if I was hearing actual things, or if my mind was playing tricks on me. Could it really be true? Could I have actually traveled into the past, where a man—well, a really good-looking man, believed I was his missing fiancée? A place where servants waited on my every whim. Could this be my new reality?

I closed my eyes and gripped the banister tighter, fighting the urge to run out in the dark of night, screaming like a fool. I took a deep breath and then another. Calm settled over me. I could find no other explanation... it had to be true. And why would this be the only possible explanation? It was simple, really.

I had to be in the past because I couldn't make this shit up if I tried... that's why.

# DESPERATION

Hawthorne Manor – The Cellar - Isabelle

WATER ran in rivulets down the side of Isabelle's mud-laden prison, splashing on the ground. The constant noise was driving her crazy. She could not stand it. It was cold, damp, and smelled of rotting potatoes. The dampness of the room chilled her to the bone. She could hear creatures scampering about in the dark. Fear hit her so hard, her stomach roiled in response and she heaved. Closing her eyes, she tried to banish the nightmare that surely must have invaded her dreams but she knew she was not asleep. She was awake, living her worst possible nightmare... she was trapped.

Bile rose in her throat as she remembered what brought her to this place. She covered her mouth with her dirty hand, but the smell of damp earth on her fingers made her heave again. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped her face with her sleeve and made herself stand to get away from the stench of her own vomit. She wrapped her arms around herself, shuffling across the floor over to the door... hoping. It was no use. The door was locked.

A faint shaft of light lit the edges. She would have yelled, but she knew it was pointless, since she knew exactly where she was: her very own cellar, the one she hated. It was far beneath the ground, and on the other side of the door, the crumbling stairs led back up to where the old cookhouse once stood. She shuffled back across the room, away from the door, to the farthest corner. A moldy sack hung on the wall. She grabbed it and tossed it on the floor. At least, it would give her some kind of protection against the cold. She sat down and leaned against the wall, tucking her legs in the folds of her gown and closed her eyes once more.

She sat in silence, berating herself for her stupidity. She was not some naïve girl. She was well into her prime. She had many experiences thus far in her life. She knew what it was like to love, and to lose one's love. She knew what it felt like to get older and watch helplessly as time began to take more and more of the beauty she once had. She knew what it was like to kill someone as well.

Yes, Isabelle knew many things. Some things she welcomed and some she wanted to forget, but found they still haunted her in her dreams from time to time. She guessed now she was being made to pay one of her many dues.

She sighed out loud.

"Oh my dear husband, why did you have to betray me with her?" Her voice sounded harsh and raspy from vomiting. The gears of her mind spun round and round replaying the day her world smashed to pieces...

HAWTHORNE MANOR ♠THREE DAYS EARLIER

"Thank you, Charles," Isabelle said, handing off her green ermine-lined cloak and muff to her butler. Her face was flushed with chill, having just returned from London, and she was not expected home for a few more days. But she was eager to see her young husband, Devlin. They had only been married for a short time and she rather enjoyed their love play. "Wherever is my husband?"

"His lordship is otherwise occupied, Madam," Charles replied nervously, tugging at his cravat.

"Oh," she said simply. "Do you have any idea how long he will be?"

"I can not say as I have the answer to that particular question, Madam." His voice cracked awkwardly.

Isabelle raised her brow in question. Charles looked piqued. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Ah, yes, Madam," he said hesitantly.

"Well, I am weary from my travels. Would you please be a dear and tell cook I would like to have a small meal prepared, perhaps some soup and toast? Oh, yes, and have one of the maids bring it up to my chamber. I think a nice warm bath is in order," she said, shivering slightly.

Charles's eyes widened. "Are you sure you would not prefer to have some hot tea in front of the fire?" he coaxed.

"Heavens no, my clothes are damp, and truth be told, Charles, I am quite simply exhausted." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Do not tell anyone, but I am not the young miss I once was." She smiled, giving him a wink for good measure. Charles had been in her family's employ since she was a young girl, and luckily, she was able to keep him after she married the Old Duke.

"Is Judith with his lordship?" Isabelle asked distractedly. She glanced at a pile of missives on a silver salver on the hall table. There were quite a few invitations. Turning back to Charles, she saw his face was pale and he was staring down at the floor. "Charles, is something amiss?"

"No... ah... no," he said, focusing on the ground.

"Charles, you look pale. Perhaps you should get some soup from the kitchen and take yourself off to bed. You may be coming down with something."

"Thank you. You may be right," he agreed. "I am suddenly not feeling well."

"Of course, take yourself to bed. I will tell cook myself about my dinner."

"Oh, perfect, I will accompany you," he said hurriedly as he took her elbow and tried to guide her towards the kitchen.

Isabelle walked alongside Charles as he pushed her towards the kitchen. She had no idea what was wrong with him, but he was certainly acting strange.

Once in the kitchen, she directed the maid to make a bite for Charles and slipped out before he could notice she was gone. She hurried down the hall and up the stairs. When she reached the top landing, she made her way toward her room.

She heard moaning. She wrinkled her brow, wondering whatever the noise could be, but walked faster just the same. Dread filled her body. She stood outside her door, listening... afraid to open it suddenly. She heard another moan and muffled voices. Swallowing her trepidation, she grabbed the handle, and opened the door. It opened soundlessly. Her eyes widened as her breath caught in her throat.

Judith, her husband's sister, was naked as the day she was born. Her head was thrown back, her long blonde hair swaying back and forth, as she moved up and down on top of a man. Isabelle had no idea who she was with; her body blocked the man's face. Isabelle's ire rose instantly. She was ready to give the girl a firm dressing down. How dare she enter her private chambers with...?

Her stomach lurched as Judith was thrown backward onto the bed. Devlin rose over her, pushing her legs up into the air, as he drove into her repeatedly. His body glistened with sweat and his head was tilted backward, the unmistakable expression of ecstasy clearly etched on his handsome face. Judith moaned louder, her body writhing under him as he picked up his tempo and lifted her legs even higher...

"Devlin," Judith cried out his name in pleasure.

Isabelle stood in the doorway watching, stupidly, frozen in place. Devlin opened his eyes as his body convulsed finding his own release. His sweat-dampened hair fell forward. He pushed it back and dropped Judith's legs, his eyes never leaving hers. Isabelle was stunned; her mind was not able to process what she had just witnessed.

"Judith, it seems we have an audience," Devlin said, breathing heavily, his lips curved up in amusement. He leaned back on the bed and ran his hand through his dampened hair.

Judith rolled over onto her stomach, an irritated expression on her face. "My goodness, Isabelle, had I known you liked to watch, I would have offered you a chair... that way you would not have had to stand on your feeble legs so long." She snickered meanly. "Devlin does take a while, does he not?" she taunted, and began laughing again. The peels of her laughter pierced Isabelle to her core.

"Oh, right, you would not know that, would you?" Judith smirked.

Isabelle finally got her voice back. "She is your sister!" Her voice cracked. "How could you have sex with your sister?" She lifted her hands helplessly in the air.

Judith laughed harder.

"Hmm, that is a good question." Devlin stood and tossed on his robe. "Ah, I see your dilemma." He crossed his arms and tapped his chin. "What kind of sick deviant would have intercourse with his sister?"

"You're a sick monster!" Isabelle's stomach clenched.

"Tsk, tsk," he said. "Be careful what stones you throw, wife." He narrowed his eyes. "You married this monster... remember?"

"That was before... I did not know... I mean how..." Isabelle could not even finish.

"Goodness, Isabelle, you just saw how," he said callously, then chuckled lightly. "Oh do calm down Isabelle," he said finally. "I am not a complete monster, well... at least not a deviant one."

"What are you saying?"

"It seems you are in luck," he said. "Although Judith and I share some similarities in coloring, she is not my sister."

"What do you mean she is not your sister?" Isabelle looked back and forth between the two.

Judith snorted loudly and rolled onto her back. "Goodness, you are slow." She sighed and pulled her long hair over one bare shoulder. "Devlin, please save me from this woman's stupidity."

"It was a lie Isabelle," Devlin said tonelessly.

"A lie?" Isabelle repeated.

"Yes, a lie," Judith said meanly. "Are you deaf as well?" She sat up. "Come on Isabelle, did you think someone as young and virile as Devlin would truly be interested in someone as old as you?" She shook her head. "You really must be slow of wit." Climbing from the bed, Judith stood up and walked across the room. She settled herself on the chair in front of the dressing table and gave Isabelle an ugly look in the mirror.

Isabelle watched her uninhibited display. Her naked body still firm and ripe from youth. She too once looked much like Judith, when she was young. Time had taken its toll on her body, but her mind was sharper now, more so than it had ever been.

In the reflection of the mirror, Isabelle studied the girl's face. And suddenly she could see the distinct differences between the two. She had been played for a fool. She should have known from the start.

Isabelle straightened her spine and pressed her shoulders back. "Get out of my house and take your whore with you." Her voice shook with unbridled anger.

"Devlin," Judith whined. "You are not going to let the old bat call me names, are you?"

"Now, now, wife, do not be hasty," Devlin said in a placating tone. "Surely we can come to some understanding."

"Understanding?" She gaped at him. "Are you a bloody idiot?" She stood rigidly. "I said get out or I will call this house down upon your insolent heads. Do you understand what I am saying?" She lifted her chin a notch. "And do not think to take anything with you either, except the pathetic pittance you came to me with. And your whore," she scathed the word, "can go just as she is since I am the one that bought her clothing as well. Or have you forgotten my money paid for all you have?"

Devlin raised a perfectly arched brow at her, daring her to say more. "We had a deal Isabelle," he said. "Or have you forgotten that as well?" He took a step forward.

Isabelle took a step back. "I am warning you. If you do not leave this instant, I will make sure you are escorted from this house and taken directly to the magistrate." She turned to leave and in doing so made one more stupid mistake in a long line of them. Before she could make it to the door, a burst of white stole her vision and pain brought her to her knees. Another sharp pain followed and she finally crumpled to the ground.

♦

Footsteps sounded from above and brought Isabelle back to the present. She opened her eyes and awaited her captor's arrival.

# CONSEQUENCE

Ravenhurst- Katherine

THE dim light flickered in the hall, throwing shadows against the door of my borrowed room. It loomed before me, fading in and out of focus as I swayed on my feet. All the alcohol I drank caught up with my body, but my mind still raced. I was trying to decide which existence to believe—either I was a raving lunatic or somehow, someway, I actually managed to travel into the past. Or... perhaps I was having an alcohol- induced hallucination. I grabbed my skin under my arm and pinched. A sharp pain shot up my arm.

"Ow that hurt!" I rubbed my fingers against the rising welt.

"What am I doing?" Would the room still be as I remembered it? Or would my delusional brain conjure up something else in its place? I twisted the handle. It didn't budge. I tried again... nothing. I wanted to scream, but who would help me if they heard? I wanted out. Out of the dress, the house, out of this... this place I found myself stuck in. Angry, unshed tears welled in my eyes. I dashed them away and grabbed the handle again. With all my weight, I pushed against the door. This time the door swung open easily and my body sailed through the opening. With a jarring thud, I landed on the carpet. My gown flew up. Cold air chilled my stocking-clad legs and butt. Lifting my head slightly, the floor blurred before my eyes. I gave up and dropped my head back down.

♦

Two black, shiny objects floated in and out of focus in front of my face. The carpet pile was wet under my cheek. I focused my eyes on one of the objects tapping up and down. It was a boot. A cool breeze wafted up my gown, and I closed my eyes in humiliated horror—my ass was showing.

"Good evening, milady," he said finally, his voice crisp and proper, emphasizing his accent.

Lifting my head, I tried to focus on his boots.

"Do forgive my intrusion into your private sanctuary, but I found no other alternative to share a moment of privacy with you."

Pushing my gown over my butt, I crawled up on all fours. "No problem." My words slurred as I tried to stay upright. My hair fell down in front of my face, which thankfully blocked everything but the shiny boots.

"Milady, can you stand without, erhm... becoming ill?" he questioned warily.

"Sure." Just as soon as that word was out of my mouth, I fell forward and my face rubbed across the rug. "Damn, that burned."

Warm hands grasped me under my arms and pulled me up off the floor. I swayed on my feet. "One minutes my good man. I'll be right back." And with that, I zigzagged my way into the bathroom.

A while later, I emerged from the bathroom, feeling at least a little less drunk. Pushing my wet hair off my face, I wiped my hands on the front of my wet gown. I had an incident with the sink and all I wanted to do was lie down. I veered towards the bed but an "Ahem" made me turn. The man from earlier was standing by the fire and pointed towards the chair.

"Milady, please take a seat," he instructed in a clipped voice, sounding very refined... very English.

Reaching out, I patted the chair—the damn thing was moving. I fell down on the chair and leaned forward.

When the room stopped spinning, I lifted my head and looked up at the man. He smiled and his eyes sparkled mischievously in the firelight. And that is when it hit me—like a ton of bricks—I knew him. "Ah... I know you... don't I?" I was trying to act nonchalant. Like I really wasn't a thief. I knew exactly who he was. Double Crap.

Milford raised a brow, his green eyes showing surprise. He cleared his throat. "I would not say 'know' as in we have been formally introduced." He grew quiet for an awkward moment. "If you are asking if we have seen one another before, then my answer is yes. Yes we have met one another before."

"Yep... I mean yes, I do know you." When he didn't say anything, I supposed he was waiting for a confession. "You are the gentleman with the necklace from my work," I said and heated with guilt. "Ah... I, um... well... you know... borrowed it."

"Yes, I know you borrowed it. Of course that was my intent."

His frown turned upside down and I took that as a good sign, until what he said sank in. "What do you mean it was your intent?"

Now he looked contrite. "Well, you see I needed you... here."

He needed me. "Okay, I don't get it. You needed me or need me?" He nodded his head in agreement to the last part of the sentence. "Okay, so you need me, as in right now?" He shook his head up and down in affirmation. "Well, I gotta tell you, I think I am someplace I really shouldn't be..." I trailed off, and batted my wet hair from my eyes. "You already know this don't you?"

"Yes."

"I'm here because you need me to help you fix something about the..." My stomach churned.

"The Dark Knight, Darias," he supplied helpfully.

I sat back in the chair and my mind began to reel again. Nothing made sense. What made me so special? Why was I the one he needed? My stomach roiled. There were too many questions and not enough answers. "I don't feel too good." I pushed up from the chair. "Ah, I will be back." I ran into the bathroom and shut the door.

# MEMORIES DO NOT ALWAYS FADE

Hawthorne Manor – Isabelle

LAUGHTER of two young girls echoed in Isabelle's mind. She stared at the locked door and laughed out loud. The sound of her voice was unrecognizable. She suddenly found her situation hilarious. She laughed and laughed at the door. Just a simple, silly, stupid door, kept her trapped. And now the ones that were closed for so long within her mind began to open. She closed her eyes and walked through one.

Memory – Ravenhurst – The Past

"Isabelle? Is he not handsome?" Victoria gushed excitedly. Isabelle looked over at her brother, Clive. His light brown hair fell lazily to the side, and his blue eyes lit up with laughter, even though she knew something dark lay just beneath the surface. "I do not see it," Isabelle countered.

Victoria grabbed her hand. "How can you not? See... look how everyone clamors for his attention? They are hoping for a moment of his time." Her face flushed excitedly.

"Like you?" Isabelle said meanly.

"Fine, so I might have a little crush on your brother, so what?"

Isabelle watched her best friend in the world stare longingly at her brother, her violet eyes begging him to notice her. Victoria was absolutely beautiful. A ribbon held her black hair loosely back and tiny tendrils escaped the confines, blowing gently in the soft breeze. "Little? Do you not mean huge?" Isabelle teased.

She could not help herself. Clive was not a nice person. And he certainly was not good enough for the likes of Victoria.

Victoria turned hurt eyes on Isabelle.

"I am sorry." Leaning forward, she hugged her friend. Clive caught her eye, and without saying a word, beckoned Isabelle to send Victoria over to him. She tried to say no with her eyes, but he lifted his brow, daring her to deny him. She turned away quickly and immediately complied. "Victoria? Clive would like to see you," Isabelle said sadly, not able to meet her friend's gaze.

"Are you certain?"

Isabelle nodded.

"Do I look all right?" She smoothed her hair.

"You look wonderful," she assured her. "You always do. Now go, before he gets tired of waiting for you."

"All right." Victoria took a huge breath, and waited for a moment more.

Isabelle gave her a reassuring smile.

Victoria beamed back at her. "Thank you." And then she ran over to Clive and sat down beside him.

Clive lifted his head and looked directly at Isabelle, a triumphant look on his face.

Isabelle narrowed her eyes and stared back at him burning with all the hatred she felt. He smiled then, and the side of his lip curved up just a bit, as he raised his brow. He was playing chicken with Isabelle. A shiver of cold fear ran up her spine and she had to turn away.

He won again.

♦

Isabelle's head fell forward, and then she jerked it back, waking once more.

# THIS TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

A BURST of warm air hit me in the face when I returned to the room. A log tumbled further into the fire, hissing and crackling. My guest from earlier was still seated in one of the chairs, staring at the flames. He had his leg bent, resting across his knee. The high polish on his boots reflected the fire like mirrors. Taking an unsteady breath, I walked over and sat back down in the opposite chair. At least the damn thing had stopped moving.

"Katherine, dear, are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah, I think. Sorry about that... umm...,"

"Milford," he supplied helpfully.

"I'm sorry Milford, but I kind of missed what you were trying to explain to me before... about being here?" My fingers dug into the chair arms. "I gotta tell you something Milford." I leaned in. "I think I am somewhere that is just not... right." I widened my eyes to stress my point.

Milford lifted his hand and waved away my comment. "Yes, yes, I know," he said, sounding a bit impatient.

"You know?" I didn't know why that surprised me. Of course he knew.

"Yes," he clarified again. "Now, I have some rather interesting things to tell you, a story from a long time ago." He paused once more and then took a breath. "Before I start I would like to apologize for my part in this," he stated sincerely.

"Oh—kay," I said slowly. The look he was giving me made my heart thump faster. I had a feeling whatever he had to say, it wasn't going to be good.

Milford leaned back into the chair and cast his world-weary gaze into the fire. "As a young lad, I was picked to squire for the most esteemed knight in all the land, the Raven Knight. His name was Darias, otherwise known as the Destroyer. The raven was his coat of arms. Just like the raven, he was renowned throughout the land for his strategic maneuvering in battle. He could swoop in, waylay his opposition efficiently, quickly, and disappear without a trace. He inspired many and was feared by all. He devoted himself to the king and the land he fought to protect," he said.

"It was a rare privilege to squire under a knight such as Darias. I took my duty very seriously. He was my master, my mentor. He was everything a lad could ever hope to be or become. The man was tireless and though few knew, he was fair and just. He only wanted a simple existence, to live in harmony with the land about him. Everything was as it should be until that fateful day. That is the day everything changed...."

A flash hit me with such force, I had to close my eyes from the pain. Milford's voice faded further away, until I could no longer hear him. It didn't matter. I knew what happened. Tears flowed from my eyes. My heart hurt. The knight, his anguished cries, haunted my mind. It was horrible.

Milford leaned forward and patted my arm once he finished his story. I turned my blurry, tear filled gaze on him as the knight's cries finally faded from my mind. I let out a sad, breathy sigh, unable to speak, and shook my head back and forth.

He pursed his lips together and gave me a contemplative stare. "I am sorry," he said again. "I fear I have made a mistake in bringing you here."

I wiped away my tears and swallowed hard. "No, it's not that. It's just such a sad story." My voice quivered.

"Yes it is," he agreed. "Do you think you are up to the task then?" he asked, and a glimmer of hope filled his eyes.

"I can try."

He smiled then, and the bone crushing sadness lifted a bit more which spurred my resolve. "What do you need me to do?"

"That is the million-dollar question."

I blinked at him. Huh? "What is the million-dollar question?"

"Whether you will be able to do what must be done. I am afraid it is up to you. This must be your decision. I can not interfere."

"I don't understand. You brought the necklace to me," I argued.

His expression turned thoughtful. "I know, but you ultimately made the decision to wear it. I did warn you," he added with a pointed look. "I fear I have given you a lot to sort through, perhaps you would like to be alone, gather your thoughts." He uncrossed his legs and stood up.

I noticed he looked like he was ready to bolt. What the hell? "Right... I mean, you are right. I took it upon myself to wear it." But I didn't know it would send my ass catapulting back through time. I wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, I merely shook my head in agreement.

He took a step towards the door, then paused and turned back towards me. "I hope I have not overwhelmed you."

Why yes, yes you have. I wanted to grab his coat, tell him to wait, not to leave me just yet. Instead I blurted out, "I can't leave?"

Milford's face went slack. "No. Not for a while I am afraid."

"So I'm stuck here... in the past?" I asked, even though I wasn't too sure I wanted to hear the answer to that particular question.

Milford tugged on his jacket, obviously uncomfortable with the question. "I believe so."

"Oh my GOD!" Okay, calm down. It can't be real. I am just having a very lucid dream... I blamed the alcohol. It was making me have one hell of a dream. Tomorrow I would wake up in my apartment and none of this would have even happened. I didn't know why, but that thought made me even sadder than I was moments before.

"I may not be able to give you all the answers you seek but I can tell you one thing."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Yes, what is it?"

"Everything will turn out the way fate intends."

WHAT? "What does fate have to do with this?"

He smiled sadly. "Everything... Fate has everything to do with this... and of course a smattering of chance gets mixed in to make things really interesting." He forced a smile at me.

"Okay then." Of course, none of this was okay. It was freaking crazy—or am I crazy?

"Get some rest," he said. "I promise everything will become clearer in the morning."

"What... you are leaving... just like that?"

He released a weary sigh. "I can not leave... at least not for a very long time. I will be here to direct you, if I can." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small piece of paper, and handed it out to me.

I took the paper and gave him a questioning look.

"You may not want to read this tonight, but it is a clue to the legend, if you can figure out the riddle."

"Oh—kay," I said slowly. "I think I need to sleep on this. I am sure everything will make more sense in the morning." I held the paper tightly in my hand.

"Yes, I believe you are right, you do need sleep." He looked down at me with a saddened look on his face. "Fate..." he trailed off.

"What about fate?"

"She is a fickle wench," he mumbled despondently. And with that, he turned on his heel and left the room without another word.

# THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

THE following morning... Sebastian lifted his hand and covered his eyes to block out the light. He was still abed, a sheet barely covering his naked body, his long muscular legs tangled in the folds. He did not sleep well. Hearing Marguerite's confession with his own ears was more than he could take.

He laughed out loud—it was hollow... bitter. How could she rub his face in the fact she actually thought the wastrel she left him at the altar for, would be back for her. Was she mad? She had to be if she expected him to stand idly by, while the rakehell returned for her, stealing not only his bride but also his inheritance. No, not bloody likely.

Regardless of what she thought, Sebastian knew better. He could envision quite clearly, what must have transpired between the two. Luckily, for her, the knave returned her to a place where she might be cared for. Many other women found themselves in similar circumstances, awash in promises of love and marriage until the wastrel took the prize. Marguerite was fortunate. Most ruined women ended up on the streets, selling their bodies for a living.

Angrily, he tossed the covers off and climbed from the bed. He was not sure why he felt so angry. Did it truly matter? He looked out the window at the early morning sun. His mind was set. He would marry her and then take himself off to London.

He closed his eyes against the sun, allowing the heat to warm his skin as he tried to block her from his mind. Instead, an image flashed unbidden of Marguerite, the sun revealing her beauty to him through the flimsy fabric of her prim little gown.

His body reacted, betraying his mind once again. He turned purposefully away from the window, fully intending to douse his ardor in an icy, cold bath. "Bloody hell!"

♦

The sound of birds squawking outside the windows woke me from my very strange dream. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains. I rolled over, feeling a little sad to be awake. Now, I would never know how my dream ended. Opening my eyes, I yelped. The gang of cherubs stared down at me, taunting me with their beady little eyes. I lifted my finger and poked one right in his sneering little face. It only seemed to sneer more. I backed out of the bed while keeping a watchful eye on them.

I knew I was being ridiculous, but hey, if I could travel back in time why couldn't little ugly cherubs come to life too?

Mentally, I stuffed a little reminder in the corner of my mind to watch my back when I was around them, just to be on the safe side. I would have to ask Milford about them later, but in the meantime, I quickly untied the curtains so they fell over their faces. Satisfied, the ugly bastards were covered, I turned and looked around the room to make sure nothing else was giving me a death dagger stare. Thankfully, it looked clear.

Well, that answered that. I wasn't dreaming. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed I tried to sort out what I remembered from the night before. Granted, I was pretty drunk by the end of the night but I certainly remembered him. He was an unbelievably handsome man... and he, correction, the Earl, thought that I was his fiancée? What were the odds? And what of Milford? He was the man with the necklace who had come to my work, and he was what? A butler from the past?

I laughed out loud.

It began as a small little sound, and then came out harder 'til my eyes teared up. This was good. I was living in an alternate reality that rivaled some of the best movies I had ever seen. What were the odds?

I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair and worked the knots from the length as I tried to get my near hysteria under control. After I pulled out most of the knots from my hair, I came to a decision. It was simple really. I may as well embrace my moment of insanity and act the part, just like one of the heroines in my favorite movies.

Maybe I should act like Bella in Twilight.... "No, too needy—Sorry Bella," I said, fighting down another hysterical bubble of laughter. Besides, I was in the past. No Vampires or Wolves that I knew of... just a hot Earl who had a problem keeping his real fiancée around and now, has a bad case of mistaken identity.

"Who should I act like?" I tapped my chin in thought as I scanned the room for some kind of inspiration. My gaze settled on a little blue leather-embossed book I had seen on the bedside table earlier. It was Vanity Fair, and gave me an epiphany. I knew who I should act like, Reese Witherspoon when she played Becky Sharp, in Vanity Fair, the movie. Her character was strong, resourceful, imaginative, and super sexy... "Right," I snorted out a deprecating laugh. Fine. I may not be super sexy but I could certainly be all the rest. At least I hoped I could pull it off.

The legend Milford told me about seemed like more of a sad love story, really. Did I miss something? I couldn't help but wonder that I must have. Where were these ill-begotten treasures? Why was everyone after them?

Well, besides the obvious reasons.

What did this Marguerite girl have to do with them? What about the necklace? I rubbed my temples. Seriously, I must have missed a gargantuan part of the story, because there was so much I did not understand. And what the hell was my part in all of it? Why was I the chosen one? What made me so special?

I was tempted to jump under the covers until I re-awoke in my own world. But what if I did? Would I remember any of this? Would I wish I was here, instead of in my own bed? Obviously, it was a no-win situation.

Suddenly, I remembered the story Milford relayed about the necklace. Surely the necklace was what brought me here and must have some kind of mystical properties. Granted, the sane part of my brain, knew how far-fetched that sounded, but really, I was in Victorian England, betrothed to some hot Earl who was also a bit of an egomaniac. So my brilliant deduction really couldn't be that off base. Standing, I walked around the room while my brain sifted through answers to my many questions.

"If I was a magical necklace where would I be?" Instinctively my gaze went directly to the "Narnia" looking wardrobe. "Nah, it wouldn't be there." Besides, for some strange reason I didn't want to get too close to that thing... it kind of gave me the heebie jeebies. The gilded dressing table looked like a good place to start, so I walked over to it. There were lots of bottles and small trinket boxes but as I opened the last one, I found that none held the necklace. Being methodical, I moved over to the bureau. I was only going to look in the wardrobe as a last resort. I stopped in front... waiting. I wanted to make sure I didn't get a weird chill again like I did with the wardrobe.

"Nope... it's good!" I pulled the top left drawer open and rifled through several pairs of gloves. There were so many different kinds. Long elegant evening gloves, short ones, and leather ones all in different colors and lengths but no necklace. I shut the drawer and moved on to the next. Fancy ribbons, dozens of them, filled this drawer.

"Okay, maybe the third time is the charm." I pulled out the middle drawer. This one held stockings actually made from silk, undergarments, and some pretty little handkerchiefs. Reaching in further, I felt around the back. People always hid stuff in the back of dressers.

"Ah Ha!" I pulled out an elaborate box. Gilded flowers and vines carved an intricate pattern on the top, and there they were again, the three keys. Just like the weird mirror across the room that looked like it was a doorway to another world.

"What's with all the keys?" I opened the box, tucked inside the red velvet confines was the necklace.

The necklace sparkled, beckoning me with its beauty once more. I was about to put it around my neck and wish myself back home but instead, I froze.

What would happen if I did put it back on? Would I simply poof back to the future? My heart sank.

If I put the necklace back on, would I wake up back at work, listening to Janice talk about her latest conquest? Or Ned's latest acquisition? Or worse? What if I ended up back in my apartment and none of this had ever happened? What if I never saw him again? My throat clogged and my heart constricted.

No, I shook my head. I was not ready to let this dream—delusion, disappear. Not yet.

With shaking hands, I carefully placed the necklace back in the box and closed the lid. Leaning down I pulled open the bottom drawer, which was filled with shawls, and stuffed the box way in the back and covered it, then closed the drawer.

I stood back up. Maybe I would feel differently later, maybe in a day or two. Besides, I needed to lay a legend to rest. But first, I had to figure out what the riddle meant, and how it tied everyone together.

Walking over to the bedside table, I lifted up the piece of paper that Milford gave me last night, which was more proof I was not imagining everything. I unfolded the parchment. Barely legible writing was scrawled across its length.

"Until the key is found... the door of time will be bound... locked within for all time... may no other be allowed peace of mind."

The paper slipped from my fingertips and floated down to the carpet. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?" I thought Milford said the knight loved the girl. Those words sounded more like a curse. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what the words would mean to someone desperate enough to do anything to get back a girl they loved and lost.

Just thinking about it made my heart ache. I bent over and picked up the paper. Opening the drawer on the bedside table, I shoved it inside and shut it once again. "What in the hell am I going to do?"

I took a few good deep reviving breaths and made up my mind. I had a riddle to solve and not only for my own sake—but apparently a few others' sakes as well.

# GOOD MORNING

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

DISHES clattered as the liveried footmen cleared them away to make room for another setting on the stark white, linen tablecloth. A pair of white-gloved hands polished the silverware gently with a cloth before placing them on the table alongside a setting of fine porcelain plates. Crystal glasses were filled with juice and water from pitchers. Toasted bread was placed inside the slots of a sterling rack with jam on the side. Serving trays of food rested on the sideboard nearby.

Sebastian summoned the footman to refill his cup with more coffee. The rich aroma filled the room. He wiped his mouth, settled back in his chair, and picked back up the morning paper.

The delicious smell of food and freshly brewed coffee greeted me when I came down the stairs. As I made my way past the gargoyle and headed down the hall towards the smell as a maid stepped out of a room to my left.

"Good morning," I chirped brightly and kept walking.

"Milady," the maid called.

"Yes." I stopped.

"The breakfast room is that way." She pointed towards a pair of double doors.

"Oh." I laughed stupidly. "I thought it was this way." "That is where the kitchen is." Her brows creased.

"Right. How silly of me." I spun around and headed in the other direction. I entered the room and stopped. The last person I expected to see was Sebastian, but there he was, sitting at the end of the table. I waffled on the threshold. The smell pulled me in the room but his presence made me want to slide back out the way I came... until he lowered his paper and I saw his face. I no longer had a choice. He was so good-looking... too good-looking. Where are men like this in my world? I thought grimly and stepped into the room.

"Good morning," he said and folded the paper.

"Good morning." I made my way over to the table thankful it was so large. I didn't want to be too close to him. He might realize I wasn't who I was pretending to be. A footman appeared out of nowhere and pulled my chair out for me.

Sebastian leaned his head against the upholstered back of the chair and toyed with the edge of his folded newspaper as he watched her situate herself. Pieces of her hair had fallen from her makeshift ponytail and floated up in the air each time she adjusted her bottom on the edge of her chair. She was quite fetching. How had he missed this? Perhaps it was the simplicity of the gown she was wearing, which made her seem so appealing. He watched her breasts jiggle as she moved her chair again... no, probably not the gown at all... it was more than likely what was under the gown that seemed so enticing suddenly. He was not sure exactly what it was, but if his body's reaction was any indication, then he certainly would not mind exploring whatever it was, further.

The chair would not budge on the carpet. I adjusted my bottom again, attempting to sit on the edge of the seat just like a genteel lady should, but unfortunately, I was failing miserably... again. Finally, I gave up and looked down. My breasts were practically perched on top of the table. I groaned and tried to push back once more, but the legs of the chair were stuck. "See, that's why you don't put a damn rug under a table..." I lifted my gaze and then wished I hadn't. He was staring right at me, with a peculiar expression on his face. "Embarrassing..." My face heated.

Sebastian grinned. He was amused. He could not help it. When did she become so utterly adorable? And then his mind came to a halt. What in the bloody hell was he doing? He sounded like he was talking about a puppy and not the girl who jilted him, and by her own admission had left him for another man, one she thought may return for her. The warm feeling he had moments before quickly turned cold along with his ardor. He reached for his cup once more and took a drink before settling it back on the table.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, casually breaking the silence.

A footman reappeared from nowhere and filled my cup with coffee. I peered around his back. "Yes I did, thank you." I made sure my voice came out loud and clear, since there was about ten feet between us, which I couldn't be happier about. If I was sitting next to him I would probably make a fool out of myself.

"I am glad to hear that," he said and gave her a wry smile.

A footman blocked my view and placed a heaping plate of food in front of me. I wasn't sure what to do. Was I supposed to wait to eat?

"Please eat," he said, as though he had read my mind. "You are obviously famished."

My face heated. Could he tell how hungry I was? I tried to smile back, but it ended up looking forced and awkward. My stomach twisted as his smile faded. He lifted his paper back up. Lifting the napkin off the table, I placed it in my lap and sat up straighter. There were several forks on the side of my plate and I had no idea which one to use. I wished he would leave so I could eat in private. Nervously, I glanced in his direction, and was relieved to see that his paper covered most of his face. Reaching forward, I quickly grabbed the fork farthest from the plate and filled it with eggs. I shoved a bite into my mouth. It was too big. I covered my mouth and chewed on the oversized bite...it wasn't pretty.

Of course, Sebastian was watching. He watched the way she ate, as well as the way she drank. The way she kept blowing a stray hair from her eyes and the rise and fall of her breasts in her conservative morning gown; none of these things went unnoticed by him. He even caught her darting glances to see if he was looking at her; he was, of course, but she did not know that. She was nervous. He was glad. He watched her shut her eyes, her dark lashes fanned across her high cheekbones, and her full, pink lips caught his attention as they met the delicate edge of the porcelain cup. His mind strayed, wondering what they would feel like on his own lips and his body began to react immediately. What in the hell was he thinking... he was aghast at himself and rightly so. These urges were getting bloody ridiculous.

Pushing away from the table, he stood. "I can see you are thoroughly enjoying your meal." He tossed his paper down on the table as a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips and then promptly turned into a frown. What in the hell was he saying? He must look like a besotted imbecile. "If you will excuse me, there is something I need to attend to." He straightened his jacket and then lifted the paper and tucked it under his arm. "I will let you finish breaking your fast with some semblance of tranquility." He strode casually toward the door, his brightly polished hessians barely making a sound on the carpet.

"All right," I mumbled past my food as I watched the tops of his boots draw nearer. And then he stopped right beside my chair. I had a feeling he wanted me to look at him but there was no way in hell I was going to do that with food bulging from my cheeks.

Sebastian waited. He thought for sure she would at least acknowledge his presence before he left, and when she did not, he tried to lean forward to see her expression. It did not work very well. "I will see you in the library once you have finished." He shook his head. "Very well then." Still no response. He gave her one last curious look and finally exited the room.

I swallowed my food quickly and wiped my mouth. I looked down. There was a nice big brown spot over my left boob. Perfect. When I could no longer hear his footsteps, I stood up. No big surprise, I suddenly lost my appetite. Spotting a plate of biscuits, I looked over my shoulder at the footman who was staring straight ahead like a sentinel. Nonchalantly, I grabbed up a biscuit for later and then ran back to my borrowed room to change.

# NO ONE LIKES TO SHARE

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

THE wind blew harshly through the trees, forcing the remaining leaves from their limbs. Sebastian gazed out the window, watching the leaves spiral in wild abandon to the ground below.

The stack of papers on the top of his desk should have been a reminder of what matters he should be attending to, but instead, he was lost in thought. Mentally he tried to prepare for the conversation he would soon be having with his betrothed about their upcoming nuptials. He was not sure how she would react to his plans to marry her at the end of the week and then leave the following morning for London... alone.

He was not sure what exactly was driving him to this decision, but he could not keep from wondering if this was haste or cowardice. Distance seemed the best avenue at this point. The rest would come to him in time.

However, his thoughts were interrupted when he sensed that he was not alone. Turning, he fully expected to find Marguerite in the doorway. When he saw that it was Renquist... again, he let out an irritated sigh. Blast the man for his poor timing. What in the hell did he want this time? He just saw him a day ago.

"Good morning, de Winter," Renquist said jovially as he entered the room and crossed to the fireplace to warm his hands.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and his jaw tensed. "Renquist, what a surprise. Two days in a row?" he said, barely able to control the edge in his voice. "What brings you out and about at this hour in the morning?"

Devlin, seemingly oblivious to his tone, shivered. "Goodness, I have to say there is quite a chill in the air. I would not be surprised if a blizzard was on its way." He shivered again for effect.

"What?" Sebastian frowned, confused.

"Yes, I do believe a blizzard is about to descend on us all." He placed his hand on the mantel. "Of course, I took the liberty of letting the staff go home to their families to ready themselves."

"You did what?" Sebastian blanched. Since when was Devlin a paragon?

"Oh, I know it was a selfless act on my part." He smoothed his hand through his hair. "Not many people would sacrifice themselves as I did for the benefit of others..." he paused and looked pointedly at Sebastian.

Sebastian's mouth dropped open.

"Well, that is neither here nor there." Devlin smiled. "Who am I to judge?"

"Well that is ah... gracious of you," Sebastian ground out. It killed him to compliment the man at all. But damn, he had no warning of a blizzard or else he too, would have done the same.

"I say, de Winter, be a gracious host and ring the maid for a pot of tea and perhaps some of your cook's delicious biscuits. I must admit I did not have a chance to eat before I left and find that I am starving."

Sebastian would have liked to do more than starve the man. He would have liked to shove his ass right out of his house.

"Certainly," he said and walked over to pull the cord for the maid.

Devlin helped himself to a glass of Sebastian's liquor and took a sip. "So I take it Marguerite is still abed?" he asked casually.

Sebastian glanced over at the door. "No, she is right behind you."

"She what?" Devlin turned so fast his drink sloshed on the carpet.

"Good morning." Even from where I stood, I could see the man had the blackest eyes I had ever seen. They were piercing, unreadable. I rushed forward and sat in one of the chairs.

Devlin's mouth dropped open as she half-ran across the room. As she fell into one of the winged chairs, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She looked so beautiful. He had almost forgotten... almost.

Sebastian walked over to the front of the fire, and purposefully used his body to block Marguerite from Devlin's salivating stare. "Look who decided to stop by."

Freaking out, I held onto the arms of the chair so tightly, I lost the feeling in my third finger. I had no idea who this guy was and if I didn't think of something fast I was going to be busted for the imposter I was. What to do? What to do? A little voice echoed in my mind, lie, lie, lie to them, it whispered. "How wonderful," I said with what I hoped was the right amount of fake exuberance.

Devlin frowned. She acted as though she held no animosity towards him for the small incident that happened before with Judith. Her eyes sparkled in the firelight, and the blue in her gown made them look darker, deeper than normal. He watched as she darted a shy smile towards de Winter, the gesture causing his stomach to twist in knots, the sensation still too familiar for his liking.

He cleared his throat, trying to draw her attention away from de Winter and glided a gentle hand through his hair. "May I say you are looking even lovelier than the last time I saw you..." he trailed off. He stepped towards her and lifted her hand in his, then leaned forward to press a kiss on the top. He lingered, watching her face flush even brighter, while her lashes fluttered. He continued pressing his lips against her sweet, soft skin.

"Tea's here," Sebastian practically yelled from across the room. He gritted his teeth, watching as Devlin appeared to slobber all over Marguerite's hand.

Sebastian had always wondered what Renquist's intentions were towards his betrothed. And he always wondered if the obvious attraction was one-sided. After finding them alone with one another on far too many occasions, it could not be simple coincidence. Renquist had always watched her every move, when he thought no one was looking. But Sebastian was watching also. He saw it all and he did not like it one bit either.

"So Devlin, where is my aunt... your wife?" Sebastian questioned, accentuating the word "wife" more than necessary.

Devlin gave him a sidelong glare. It was just like de Winter to mention he was married, just to remind Marguerite. Perhaps she forgot. But no... the do-gooder had to open his big mouth, and now she knew, again. Blast the man. "Actually, it was your aunt who sent me off at such an early hour to retrieve documents she left here some time ago," he said simply, his gaze straying back towards Marguerite.

Sebastian crossed his arms and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Since when did his aunt leave documents at his home? He had no idea what the man was speaking of. And why would Isabelle not come here to retrieve them herself? It was not like her to miss an opportunity to visit. Now that he thought about it, he had not seen her for some time. "I do wonder why my aunt did not come herself, or at least accompany you here, Renquist."

Devlin pulled his gaze from Marguerite. "Oh, she was feeling a bit under the weather, so Judith offered to look after her while I came here in her stead to retrieve what she needed."

"Under the weather?" he questioned. "I do hope you sent for the doctor?"

Devlin adjusted his waistcoat. "No need, she is suffering as all women do at certain times of the month."

Sebastian's face went blank, and then he seemed to recover. "Of course, yes, I understand." There were some subjects he chose to avoid at all costs.

The rumbling of the teacart momentarily sidetracked the conversation. The cups were prepared to each person's liking and then handed out.

"Thank you," I said and took the offered cup from the maid.

Devlin was not one to miss an opportunity. So while Sebastian was occupied with the maid, he took a moment to appreciate the beauty before him. Her angelic face turned in profile, as she sipped her tea. Her dark lashes cast shadows on her cheeks and reminded him of how she looked when she slept...so innocent...so beautiful. Her lips were even fuller than he remembered, and he could imagine quite clearly how they would feel against his body if he let his mind conjure the image fully. A shiver of delight raced through him. He wanted her to look at him... to finally, see him... and then she did. She gave him a sweet shy smile before turning away. What was this? Was she being shy, bashful? This girl was not the Marguerite he remembered. She had to be playing coy with him. Oh, how he loved to play games as well. He let his gaze travel freely over her body, imagining what fun they could have, knowing this time it would be different. Just thinking of them together, with one another, began to make him uncomfortably hard. And as he glanced down, he could see it was becoming quite obvious.

Devlin jerked on his waistcoat. It did not help. Before Sebastian turned around, he decided to leave, lest he find himself in dire straits. Turning around he walked briskly towards the door. When he was at the entrance, he looked over his shoulder. "Pray, forgive me, but I have forgotten a most important matter I must attend to, at once." And with that, he hurried from the room and ignored the curious stare from the doorman as he donned his coat. He walked out into the brisk morning air, admonishing that time had definitely not diminished that particular desire in the least bit.

Sebastian barely caught a glimpse of Devlin before he disappeared and was exceedingly grateful he had excused himself. Although he did wonder what he was up to? With Renquist, one never knew. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand, forgetting Renquist quickly. He decided to drink something a bit stronger for the conversation he planned to have with Marguerite.

I wasn't a big drinker and never normally drank during the day, but watching Sebastian pour his own drink, I suddenly wished he would pour one for me as well. I felt even more unsettled from the leering looks his aunt's husband had thrown in my direction every few minutes. He must have thought I didn't notice, but I was very well aware how he had been ogling me. I wanted to poke my fingers into his eyes for acting like such a perv.

Sebastian finished pouring his drink, walked across the room and settled in the chair and took a long pull. Lowering the glass, he placed it on the table at his side. "Now that we are alone, finally," he stressed the word, "there are a few things I need to discuss with you."

"All right." I braced myself for what was to come.

"Since you have seen fit to return to me..." he paused, trying to find the right turn of phrase and cleared his throat. " Although it may not have been of your own accord." He lifted his brow audaciously. "I want you to know I still take our betrothal very seriously," he said, the last with conviction.

"Oh," I replied simply, not knowing what else to say. I had no idea where the conversation was going but I had a feeling it was not going to be pleasant. Of course, Milford warned me about Marguerite's and his engagement, but for some reason it never occurred to me that the wedding might take place before I righted whatever wrong had been done. And as I thought about it for a minute and I found I was not overtly averse to the idea either, which was so sad.

"Good," he said quickly. "Now I want you to know I have made allowances for your indiscretion. And have graciously decided to marry you despite your debauched state."

I flexed my fingers on the arm of the chair, squeezing tightly as his jaw tightened. It looked like the words he had just said left a bad taste in his mouth. I found I could agree wholeheartedly. Maybe I had been a bit too hasty in my pathetic declaration a moment before. "Marry me in what state?" I lifted my brow in question.

He laughed, but it had a hard, bitter edge to it. "Your innocence is lost. You have sullied yourself with another. Could I be any clearer?" His ire filled every word he spoke.

I winced from his candor. "I see." Of course, I did not see at all. What an ass. I am not sullied in the least, but he wouldn't know that. Still his words were pretty damn rude. And so what if I was... oh right... I am in the past. Still, he needed to get over himself. "My goodness, how very gracious of you to take on a person such as myself in such a debauched state," I poured on sarcastically.

Sebastian determined quickly this was the Marguerite he remembered. He had wondered if her true nature would eventually make an appearance. "I thought you might be," he replied offhandedly as he removed a piece of lint from his sleeve. "Now I know this is a lot to take in at the moment, but in time, I am sure you will see how this is the best avenue for us both."

"What avenue would that be?"

Sebastian sighed in irritation, for it was an obvious statement. "I speak of the one where we wed, of course. I will move to London while you stay here. That avenue," he said tonelessly. "Of course, I will return periodically to do my duties as lord of the estate, and I will need an heir at some point. But other than that, I see no reason to stay on." He waved his hand in the air.

My anger turned in on itself, replaced quickly with dread. He was going to leave. How could I fix what I needed if he left? Wasn't he an essential part of the legend? Didn't I need him to help me find the knight's love? Searching my brain, I tried to come up with a reason to make him stay. I could always tell him the truth. No. no. no - I quickly discarded that notion. He would think I'm crazy.

Think, think, think. What would make him want to stay? My mind sifted through ideas. Why did any man stay with a woman? Love... Sex... Food... ah, shit... I didn't know. I searched my brain for the numerous Cosmopolitan articles I often read about men. "How to keep your man coming back for more" I couldn't remember that one. "How to make your man fall for you" I tried that one, but it didn't pan out well. "Give him what he wants, and leave him begging for more"... Oh, to hell with it, I would just have to wing it. Obviously, I wasn't going to have sex with him... even as I thought it, my eyes slid over to him of their own accord. He had stood up from his chair and was now standing in front of the fire. No, of course I wouldn't sleep with him... but looking at him now, how utterly handsome he looked, his suit straining across broad muscular shoulders and his dark hair falling forward, perfectly... I could barely stop myself from sighing audibly. He did look like he would be pretty darn good at making a woman feel good. Maybe I could make him fall in love with me... as soon as that thought entered my mind, I snorted in derision. He turned toward me. I gave him a sheepish smile. Like that had worked so well in the past.

As the fire crackled and the silence between us grew my mind flew through every plausible scenario I could think of. I chewed my lip, and nearly drew blood when I looked back at him. He was staring at me like I was a... well, I didn't know what, but it sure didn't look good. Crap. This was not going to work. I widened my eyes at him.

He widened his eyes back at me.

Oh hell, I took another drink of tea. After a few strained minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. "Well, isn't this just wonderful." My voice dripped with sarcasm. Before I lost my nerve, I took a breath and continued, "Any idea on what I might do to amuse myself while you're in London, doing whatever it is that you do while you are there?"

"Yes, what would you do?" Casually he lifted his drink off the mantle, walked back over to the opposite chair, and sat down. He smiled then, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Oh, shit.

"For myself, I mostly indulge my most basic desires whilst I am in London."

He leveled me with his steely gaze and I sunk further back into the cushions of the chair.

"I find this act comparable to enjoying a savory meal." He waved his hand. "I try not to be too particular about the type of dish I indulge in. They all have a slightly different flavor, and who am I to deprive my palate of a delicacy when it is being offered so freely?" He shrugged his shoulders indifferently and raised his brow slightly to see if she caught his double entendre.

Wow. He may be nice to look at, but apparently he was a pig. Comparing the girls he "did" to a... meal. What a jerk. Oh, and I knew plenty of those type of guys too. I had dated most of them already. He could take a number and stand in line behind the rest of the pigs.

Now what was I supposed to do with him? He had turned back to studying the flames in the fire, deep in thought. At least that is what it looked like to me. He lifted his muscled arm and raked his hand through his hair, again. I felt offended, truly, I did, but as I watched him, staring at the fire, I couldn't help wondering what flavor I might bring to his meal. Would he enjoy me as much as he did the others? And most importantly... could his hunger ever be sated with just one dish? My heart sank a bit from the thought... Probably not.

He stood. "I believe you should retire to your room, perhaps read a book, or take a nap before it is time to prepare for the evening meal. I need to complete some unfinished business," he added with a dismissive air, extending his hand.

I didn't expect the conversation to end so quickly. I was still pondering whether I wanted to be a meal or simply a snack. And now I was being told to take a nap. I blatantly ignored his outstretched hand. The nerve. Filled with righteous indignation, I balled my hands into fists. He was speaking to me like a child. I hated when people talked to me like that. I was not some kid to push around. Read a book. Fine, that wasn't so bad... but take a nap—come on. And the nerve... how dare he rub my face in his plates of food like that, as if I was of no consequence. Of course, this was so much worse than the take a nap. No wonder Marguerite left him.

He lifted his brow at me, as if he was daring me to disobey him, which pissed me off even more. I even resorted to biting the inside of my cheek to stop from saying something I may regret. Instead, I turned away and tried to think of a way to get back at him. Maybe make him want to stay? Once again my mind spun thru different scenarios and discarded just as many as I tried to think of a way to get a little payback and possibly make him stay in the process. What did the ever-resourceful Becky Sharp character do in Vanity Fair to get the man she wanted? My mind settled on the answer like a slot machine hitting the jackpot. Bells ringing and lights flashing, the big payout within reach... I would make him want me. That was it. It had to work.

Granted, Vanity Fair was only a movie and Becky Sharp was a dirt-poor girl trying to climb her way up out of poverty, but I was just as desperate, so while not being the best comparison, men on a whole were pretty much the same everywhere, right? And maybe I couldn't make him love me, per say, but I could certainly make him want me... couldn't I? And if he wanted to enjoy flavors, perhaps I should give him a taste of my own—not the entire meal of course, but just enough to make him want just a bit more.

# RECOMPENSE

Hawthorne Manor – The Cellar

ISABELLE dug her fingers into the food and scraped it off the filthy floor. She shoved it into her mouth and immediately gagged. Covering her mouth, she forced the disgusting food down. She needed her strength. Repulsed, her entire body shook. Tears streamed down her face. She had to get out of this prison or she would die, and she was not ready to die. She clutched the metal cup tightly in her hand. She was saving all her strength for Judith's next visit.

EARLIER IN THE DAY

Judith clomped noisily down the stone stairs; Isabelle could hear her giggling all the way. Apparently, she was quite pleased with herself about something.

"Oh, Isabelle, I have some food for you," Judith called out between giggles.

Isabelle heard something fall. She hoped it was Judith.

"Oh no! How terrible. Would you look at that?" she exclaimed loudly, and then laughed.

Isabelle leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. That must have been her food. Bitch. She heard Judith dragging her feet back and forth across the stone floor. Then a grinding noise, followed by a stomp. Isabelle heard Judith snickering as the door loudly creaked open.

"Isabelle, there seems to have been a terrible accident... your food has fallen onto the floor."

"With your help," Isabelle muttered.

"What? Did you say something to me?" Judith snapped angrily. "Well, there go your second helpings!" she yelled, throwing the food onto the ground in front of her. "Oh no, now look what you made me do! Your food has ruined my gown. Well, I am sure Devlin will buy me another, or perhaps I should take one of yours, since it was your fault. Oh, right. That will not work. You are simply too big."

Isabelle said nothing. She could smell the food from across the room, which made her stomach growl loudly.

"Eww, Isabelle, you sound like a dirty little savage," Judith said, smashing something with the toe of her shoe.

Isabelle assumed it was the last recognizable piece of food.

"Well, I am waiting," Judith said, her annoyance palpable.

"For what?" Isabelle had to ask.

"Why, your apology," Judith said rudely, as if stating the obvious.

"You must be insane," Isabelle replied.

Judith's face turned red with rage. Her nails cut into her skin as she balled her hands into fists. "I AM NOT INSANE!" she screamed out crazily. "You will pay for this!"

Isabelle laughed, then wheezed and coughed, then laughed some more. She simply could not help herself.

Judith swung around in a huff and slammed the door behind her.

Isabelle heard the distinct sound of the lock click into place and listened as Judith stomped away up the cellar stairs.

♦

Isabelle opened her eyes and looked down at the cup she now held. "No Judith, you will be the one to pay." She closed her eyes once more.

# THE GAMES THAT WE PLAY

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

THE fine china made a clattering sound against the wood as I set the cup on the table. I was very aware that Sebastian watched. I stood purposefully and walked off toward the sideboard. Lifting the heavy crystal stopper from the decanter, I gave him a pointed look. "May I?"

"Of course." He inclined his head and sat back down. One ankle rested on his knee as he watched her every move.

She lifted her glass in the air.

He lifted his in return, watching her curiously. What was she doing? He took a casual sip of his drink as she gulped the contents back without taking a breath and slammed the glass back against the top of sideboard. Then she repeated the process. His eyes widened as she lifted her hand to her hair and pulled it from the ribbon and threaded her fingers through the mass. The strands tumbled down her back in riotous disarray.

His interest was certainly piqued, and even more so, when she gave him a flirtatious look and pressed her shoulders back.

Lifting his glass, he took another large pull of the fiery liquid and almost sputtered it out of his mouth when she began running her hands down the sides of her dress and then sliding them back up to her bodice.

She unbuttoned her gown, and made a face. What the hell was she doing? She looked afflicted.

Was she trying to flirt with him? No, that was ridiculous. Why would she do that? He was confused, curious, yet slightly aroused at the same time.

The edge of the sideboard cut into my skin as I gripped it harder. My nerve was disappearing faster than my drink. My mind screamed at me. "You can't do this. You can't do this." Another little voice said, "Yes you can. Yes you can." I wasn't sure if I hated or loved that little voice.

Sebastian finished his drink and finally stood. He was getting annoyed with her silly, little antics. Walking over to the fire, he set his glass down on the mantel. Then leaned down to toss a few more logs into the dying flames. He waited to see if she would turn tail and run or actually go through with the little game she appeared to be trying to start.

He heard her walking towards him, her skirts rustling ever so slightly on the carpet. At least it sounded as though she were walking, instead of running for the hills. He smiled into the flames, standing up, but did not turn around. He felt her close the distance between them. The softness of her breasts brushed against his back as she slid past.

I was so close, I could feel the heat emanating from his body as his heady scent filled my nostrils. He did not move, not even a muscle. I was beginning to think, he didn't even notice I had brushed past him. My breasts still tingled from the contact. Apparently, my tactics were working wonders on me, him...not so much. Taking a bracing breath, I did it again. This time my entire body shook. He didn't move though, not a muscle. What the hell was he wearing—a suit of armor under that jacket.

That was it. I couldn't go through with it. Beyond embarrassed, I made my way across the room as my little voice called me a coward. I told it to shut the hell up.

Sebastian felt every inch of her body rub against his own as she passed by, not once, but twice, his body loving every moment. Of course, he also heard her running away. He waited a moment longer, not sure if he should let her go or not. He glanced at the stack of papers on his desk and decided they could wait.

He was not one to let an opportunity such as this pass him by, at least not today. He had seen these brazen games before, and normally they did nothing for him, but as he watched her heading out of the room, he decided that today was different.

A few long strides and he easily blocked her escape. "Leaving so soon?"

"Ah, well..."

"Yes," he prodded and took a deliberate step forward.

I took a step back and kept going until my body was pressed up against one of the chairs. You can do this, the little voice in my mind assured me.

Sebastian walked up to her and reached down, placed a gentle finger under her chin, and pressed it upward. She was biting her lip, turning the pinkish color a vibrant red. Suddenly he wanted to taste her lips. He wanted to be the one that bit and pulled on her lower lip with his mouth and caressed it with his tongue. His eyes traveled past her mouth to her breasts. She had undone so many buttons he could see an ample amount of her bare rounded flesh gleaming enticingly in the firelight. He moved her hair over her shoulder, which gave him an even better view. His body reacted to the sight. He was quite surprised he was becoming so easily aroused. In his own defense, it had been a long time since he ate a savory meal.

Even though he was becoming aroused, he was a bit reluctant to play her little game and did in fact have pressing matters to attend to this day, but just as he was about to step away from her he noticed how hard her nipples had become from his nearness. Well, he reasoned quickly, he had put off his pressing matters before, so they could certainly wait a bit longer. He brought his hand to the front of her gown boldly and waited for a moment, when he heard no protest he gently stroked the tips of his fingers over the swell of her breasts.

As his fingers delved deeply down into my gown, I leaned back into the chair for support. If I didn't, I would surely fall over. My skin burned where his fingers caressed. My mind, however, was screaming at me to go slow, that I was being too hasty. Lifting a shaky hand, I tried to stop him from delving down further but he simply pushed my hand away. I closed my eyes and my breath came out in shortened gasps. I couldn't believe I was letting a stranger caress my boobs, in the middle of a library... in the past. I tried to tell myself it was all for the poor knight, but deep down I knew that was not the only reason. The truth was pretty obvious. I wanted him to touch me and I wanted to touch him as well, but was afraid of the consequences of such an act. Even so, that did not stop me from wanting to say something to intrigue him, tempt him, and make him burn with desire.

Unfortunately, with my poor track record with men, I really had no idea how to go about that. So instead, I waited, feeling like a fool, for him to make the next move.

Sebastian could not help wondering what happened to the brazen girl he had seen just moments before. He leaned in and inhaled her scent. She smelled of sweet flowers warmed by the sun. With her head turned to the side, he saw she was giving him access to the delicate curve of her neck and her pulse was throbbing. Leaning forward, he gently pressed his lips over her racing pulse, and licked the sweetness of her skin.

Coming inches from her face, he dipped down and claimed her lips. Using his tongue, he coaxed her to open her mouth so he could deepen the kiss as her hands slid up his chest and then around his neck. He felt the pull of her fingers as they tangled in his hair.

Suddenly not able to feel close enough to her, her pulled her roughly against him as ran his hand over her breasts, squeezing, kneading them. It wasn't enough. Reaching around, he loosened her gown. She opened her mouth wider, letting his tongue delve even deeper.

"You taste so sweet," he breathed out seductively. Aching for more, he pressed his leg between hers and lifted her gown. "I am going to take you right here... right now," he murmured huskily against her ear as his mouth, sucked and nibbled her neck.

When she did not protest, he took it as a good sign. He looked down at her face. Her head was back and her eyes were shut with a look of wonderment on her lovely flushed face. If he did not know better he would think she had no idea what he was about to do to her person. But with no protest, he became even bolder, wondering how much farther she was willing to take this little game she had begun. Keeping her skirts in one hand, he pulled her bodice down with the other, releasing her breasts entirely from the confines of her gown and placed his mouth on her hardened nipple, suckling it with his lips and tongue. She gasped out in pleasure. He suddenly did not care what game she was playing, he was hard, straining against his breeches, wanting... no, needing release.

Pushing into her more, he waited for her to do something, anything, other than demurely kiss his neck. He became bolder as he waited and pulled her bodice down further. Her breasts were even more delectable than he remembered. He waited for the inevitable. At any moment he knew she would release him and do the same thing to his body that Annabelle had done so many times before. She finally released his neck and ran her hands down the front of his chest. Then she stopped.

He held back a groan, waiting once more. He could not take it. He ran his hand over the round curve of her sweet derriere and dipped his hand just between her thighs and then slowly pulled back. She sucked in her breath as though she were shocked.

He smiled, enjoying her little game of innocence as she tormented his body with her own. He lowered his mouth to her breast again, kissing her everywhere, instead of the one place she wanted his mouth. He wanted her to see how it felt to be teased. She slid her hand back into his hair as he slipped his hand down between her legs once more. He could tell she was more than ready for him and still... she did nothing. It was so obvious to him she was no longer an innocent. The way she rubbed her breasts against him, the way her mouth toyed with his, sucking, pulling, teasing. He forced her previous admission from his mind that her lover would be returning for her. He knew she did not outwardly admit he was her lover, but where else could she have been all this time if not with a lover? He forced the images from his mind. He did not want to think about that now.

She continued to tease him, but thoughts of her betrayal bubbled forth in his mind, once more. That was it. He had enough of her silly games. He grabbed her hand from around his neck and pushed it down over his breeches. He kept his hand over hers, waiting to see what she would do.

I froze. He was putting my hand right on his... Oh, I was taking this little game way too far. My mind was spinning—I was out of control. I had to slow down. If I slept with him now, he would surely lose interest. Cosmopolitan never said, "Give him all you have and hope he comes back for seconds." I was sure it worked for some girls, but unfortunately, I didn't think I could swing that one.

No, I knew if I slept with him now, I would be just like any other girl he slept with. Nothing more than a moment's pleasure. It all made complete sense to me, but it didn't stop my body from shivering with desire when his fingers slid down between my legs once more. I wanted to cave. My body trembled. I did not know what to do. Would it even make a difference? My mind said yes, but my body said no.

Sebastian was tired of waiting for her to figure out what she was going to do. He sighed in frustration and let go of her hand. He was hard as hell. What silly game was she playing now?

Well, he certainly knew how Annabelle felt when he left her in such a state. This precocious wench was taking him to the edge and leaving him there. He looked at her face, so lovely and flushed. Her bare breasts were still exposed, a sheen of perspiration shining on them in the firelight. She kept her gaze downcast. He was tempted to walk away, but something stopped him. He found he could not walk away, at least not yet.

Apparently, he was not ready to quit this silly little game of cat and mouse. So instead of leaving, he stepped forward and grabbed her body roughly to his own. He was satisfied when she gasped, followed by a breathy moan of pleasure.

He pulled her against him fully and seized her mouth once again.

"If you want to stop you had best speak up," he murmured against her lips while he gathered her gown in his hand once again. Reaching around, he grabbed onto each cheek of her perfectly rounded derrière, and squeezed until she whimpered in pleasure. With a satisfied smile, he lifted her right leg up and settled himself against her. Once again, her hands slid slowly down the front of his chest. He waited and her hands stilled, again.

"You are driving me crazy." He seized her soft lips with his own again and devoured all she was offering.

He could feel her fingers toying with the fastenings of his breeches. He throbbed to be touched under the fabric. She was taking too long. He tore his mouth from hers and grabbed her breast again. She was so close to giving him exactly what he wanted... what he needed. He ran his hand roughly up her leg, his fingers almost touching her where he knew she burned, making her wait as well. Turnabout was fair play.

She pressed into him, writhing, trying to move closer. He smiled and stayed his hand on her thigh. Rubbing slowly, methodically with his fingers, up and down, up and down he caressed, getting closer with each pass.

Oh, he wanted to give her what she so obviously wanted but his pride would not let him give in to her yet. He wanted her to make the next move in this little game of chess they had begun. He wanted her to beg. She was shaking, and her breath was coming out in rushed hitches as her fingers fumbled with the front of his breeches. He leaned in and kissed her just below her ear, right on the sweet spot of her neck.

"That's it," he coaxed as she shivered against him in response.

One button finally undone. He closed his eyes... he could almost taste the satisfaction. There were only a few more, then she could wrap her sweet...

A large crash sounded in the hall, followed by, "Oh no!"

"Bloody Hell!"

# TIME DOES NOT HEAL ALL WOUNDS

Hawthorne Manor

DEVLIN strode into Hawthorne Manor with an air of noble authority, his face still chilled from the haste in which he rode back to the manor. He was in need of release now.

"Judith!" he yelled, his voice echoed through the hall and into the study. "Judith!" he called, louder, running up the stairs to look in the room they were staying in, Isabelle's bedchamber. He usually found her up there, trying on Isabelle's clothing, admiring herself in the mirror.

However, Judith was not there, either. "Bloody hell!" Judith was never around when he actually wanted her to be. He walked back down the stairs, stopping long enough to throw his coat over the railing. He almost yelled for a servant, before remembering he made them all leave under the guise of a coming blizzard.

He certainly did not need them meddling in his affairs, since he was not sure what to do with Isabelle. Judith, of course, wanted her gone. He could not do that though. At least, not yet. No, he would need to think on it some more, another day perhaps. Maybe she would come to her senses and realize she was the one who pushed him into Judith's awaiting arms.

Wanting nothing more, than a hot beverage and some damn release he strode into the study and poured an ample amount of brandy in his glass. It was close to the brim, but not a drop slipped from the crystal snifter onto the carpet. He smiled knowingly and settled himself into a chair in front of the fireplace that had long since gone cold.

Devlin let his mind stray to another time...

HAWTHORNE MANOR * MEMORY

"Devlin put those bags down. You are the Lord of Hawthorne now, not a servant," Isabelle berated him as she pulled her gloves off and handed them to Charles.

Devlin tensed. "Sorry, love. I have not become accustomed to my new station in life as of yet."

"Oh Devlin, give it time, you'll come around soon enough." Isabelle lifted her hand and used her index finger to beckon him to her.

Devlin smiled. They had just come back from their honeymoon. It was a long one. Isabelle wanted to visit so many places and see so many things. She often told him she needed to show him off. He found out quickly enough that his role was only to be seen, not heard. He had become Isabelle's young show pony, to parade in front of society and her so-called haggish friends with doddering husbands. He wondered if everyone could see the invisible lead rope tethered to his neck as she dragged him around, making him prance. He certainly could feel it, squeezing the life from him as each day passed... until the day, he saw her, Marguerite...

♦

He sighed aloud and took another drink. Loosening his cravat, he closed his eyes and let his mind slip back into the past...

"Isabelle, where did you say we were going this evening?" Devlin asked, rushing into the study. It was Isabelle's favorite place to be, besides the bedchamber. He pulled up short in his progression. A young woman stood in the middle of the room, her spine rigid. She was speaking in hushed, angry tones to Isabelle. He saw Isabelle cut her a silencing glare.

Then she turned around, looking over her shoulder at him. His breath caught in his throat. He felt like he had been thrown from his prized stallion—all wind knocked from his lungs. Ironically, Isabelle bought him the stallion for a wedding gift. He found it fitting, especially since he was the one that turned out to be the actual show pony.

Her violet eyes ignited with anger, her face flushed, her cheeks glistened with tears she had recently shed, and yet, she still smiled at him, sweetly. That simple gesture was his undoing. Devlin saw the light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel that day. He smiled back with all the emotion he was feeling. They had a connection.

"Close your mouth, Devlin, you are salivating," Isabelle warned, her green eyes sparking with anger. She, Marguerite, quickly turned away, covering her face before dashing from the room.

Devlin shut his mouth obediently and smoothed his features.

Yes, that was the day when Isabelle became nothing more to him than a means to an end.

#  A MOMENT'S PLEASURE CAN FADE

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

SEBASTIAN dragged his hand through his hair as he watched one of the footman help Milford to the kitchen. The man almost gave him heart failure. When he went to the foyer to see what the commotion was about, he saw Milford lying amongst broken glass and greenery. His leg twisted awkwardly, and his face was ashen. Immediately he thought the worst.

Luckily, Milford had only taken a small spill, apparently from slipping on some of the water from the vase he carried. Sebastian was not sure what he was doing carrying the vase in the first place. The maids usually did all the floral arrangements. But it was the end to the moment he shared with Marguerite. Now he lifted heavily lidded eyes to her as she braced herself in the library doorway. Her face was still flushed, her gown rumpled, and her hair was completely undone. She looked well loved, even though they had yet to finish what they started with one another.

Just looking at her, he could feel himself hardening again. Her blue eyes glittered with a hint of a sweet, shy smile, pulling on the corners of her swollen lips.

He suddenly wondered if she looked like that with the rakehell she left him for. Did she let him touch her body the same way? Did she make his pulse race by playing her coy, little games? Did she make the rogue wait to be touched as well? He did not think so.

Lifting his eyes to hers once more, he felt sicker as each moment passed. He could not take it. He gave her a cutting look and watched her face fall. She wrapped her arms around herself, a look of hurt and confusion crossing her face. A pang of guilt assailed him, which he dashed away, quickly. He had to hand it to her... she was good. He almost believed her, almost. He would not be taken in again. He was a complete and utter fool. He gave her one last, harsh look, then turned on his heel and walked deliberately away, wishing she never came back.

# PAYBACKS ARE A BITCH

Hawthorne Manor

JUDITH balanced the tray she was holding on her hip and peered into the gloom of the cellar through the bars in the door. "Oh, Isabelle, do rouse your sorry-self. I brought food for you, and if you are nice, I will not throw it on the floor this time." Judith giggled like a naughty child.

Isabelle lay perfectly still, forcing herself not to rebuff the little trollop.

Irritated, Judith stopped laughing. Isabelle was not playing fair. That old bat was taking all the fun out of her little game. She was having such a good time tormenting Isabelle she even came earlier than usual this day.

"Isabelle," she sang out, her shrill voice filling the air. "I have to say, Devlin and I have been having such a grand time making use of your chamber since you have been indisposed," she snickered meanly, shifting the tray on her side.

"You know, it still boggles my mind how you ever thought a man such as Devlin would be interested in an old, dried-up crone like you." Judith laughed harder, emitting a snorting sound.

"I swear, you must have been desperate to actually believe he enjoyed having his way with you," she jeered again.

There was no response.

Judith was getting angry. This was no fun.

She watched for any signs of movement, but there was still none. She began to know fear. If she accidentally starved the old bat, Devlin would certainly notice. Of course, he would blame her, as he always did whenever their plans went awry. Moreover, Judith knew she would end up as dead as their captive if that occurred. She lay down the tray and unbarred the door.

She cautiously entered the room. A vile smell assaulted her and she covered her face, thinking it smelled just as she imagined an old crone would smell... disgusting. She kicked Isabelle's leg with her booted foot but she did not budge.

Suppressing a gag, she reached down with one hand while the other covered her face, and tried to turn her over.

Isabelle stayed as limp as possible, letting Judith roll her over. She gripped the cup in her hand. When Judith was close enough, she smashed the cup with all her force into the side of Judith's head.

Judith stumbled backward. She touched the side of her head. Pulling her fingers away she looked at them in confused shock. They were full of warm, wet blood.

Isabelle struggled to stand and then hit Judith again with everything she had.

Judith's eyes rolled back into her head and she fell forward onto the floor, right into Isabelle's vomit.

The cup clanked loudly on the floor as Isabelle threw it down. She wiped her shaking hands on the front of her filthy skirt. "That's what you get for sleeping with my husband." She gathered what little saliva she still had in her mouth and spat directly onto the side of Judith's face.

"And that is for throwing my food on the floor." She laughed a bit. It was a dry, harsh sound.

"Who's paying now, Judith?" she asked her still form. Brushing her hair from her face with a filthy hand, she staggered out the door of her prison

# INDECISION

Ravenhurst- Victorian England

A CLOCK rang loudly in the distance, marking the hour. It was eight o'clock and still Sebastian had not made an appearance. I stared bleakly out the window. A fresh, white blanket of snow covered the ground. Cradling a glass of wine in my hand, I remembered my earlier encounter with Sebastian. My body still tingled from head to toe every time I thought of him and my lips still felt tender from his kisses.

After he sent Milford on his way, he had made my insides twist as he looked at me as though I was the worst person on earth. Honestly, I had no idea where all his venom could have come from. I thought we were... well... almost going to be together. But no, after the mishap with Milford, he gave me such an awful look, I wanted to run and hide. I was so embarrassed.

I couldn't help but think that the sampling of my savory meal had left him with a sour stomach. I laughed a little, but it was empty and hollow, just like my insides. What could I do? I finished off the rest of the wine and lifted the glass in the air. A footman appeared from the shadows and refilled my glass. Rejection sucked way worse in the past than it did in the future.

♦

Sebastian noted the time as he paced the length of his chamber. It was half past ten. He swilled the amber liquid directly from the bottle he held in his hand. It burned, but at least it numbed his emotions. His hair was damp, wetting the tops of his shoulders. He was dressed in one of his best waistcoats; severely cut with matching breeches. His shirt was pristine, and his neck cloth tied with precision. Brummell would have been proud.

Yet, he could not go down to dine with Marguerite. He was late, but that did not seem to matter. Instead, he kept replaying their interlude in the library earlier. What was he to do with her? He did not know his body would betray his mind thusly. He wanted to finish what he started, but to what end?

They would be married in just a few short days. One would think he could wait. But really, why should he? She had not. She let another take what rightfully belonged to him. And, as much as he hated to admit it, that is where he found himself, battling a silent war within. Did he want more than just one night? Did he want a future?

He laughed. It was hollow and tinged with an ample amount of bitterness. What was he even thinking? Perhaps he would have cared for her in time, but after she left him for another, how could he? His pride would not let him relent, not yet at any rate, if ever. The wounds were too new.

No, he would wait and make her beg for what she so easily tossed aside for another man. He ran his hand over his face. He needed a distraction. Hell, what he really needed was some damn relief.

Perhaps he should leave now and go to London; have a few savory meals... he smiled then, as an image of Marguerites shocked expression popped into his mind. Oh no, she was not too happy about being compared to food... not one bit. He laughed again, and again it was hollow.

Frustrated, he set the bottle down and sat on the edge of the chair in front of the fire, leaning forward to watch the flames dance back and forth. It was a shame he had angered Annabelle so badly or else he may have been able to make a quick visit and satiate his hunger with her, even though he knew it would only be a temporary reprieve. He quickly discarded the idea. No, he did not want Annabelle... he wanted the girl with the fathomless blue eyes who made his pulse race and his body respond.

And why not? She was going to be his sooner rather than later anyway and it was obvious she had wanted him as well. He thought about it for a moment... why not finish what they started. What difference did a couple of days make?

He stood then, his mind made up and went off to do exactly that.

# YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

Hawthorne Manor

DEVLIN opened his eyes and ripped his cravat completely off, throwing it on the floor. He stood and refilled his glass, bringing the bottle back with him, and set it on the table. He sat back down in the chair, letting out an audible sigh. Marguerite was back. His heart pounded excitedly, remembering the connection he thought they once shared. The way her eyes followed his every move, the secret smiles she gave him behind Isabelle's back. It all made perfect sense at the time. How could he have gotten her signals so wrong? The ones she practically threw at him every chance she got. Devlin was sure Marguerite's shy, secretive smiles were for his eyes alone. He thought she was giving him a silent invitation. An invitation he meant to accept when the timing was right...

Hawthorne Manor - Memory

He waited patiently, biding his time... then one night, Isabelle drank too much wine, with his coaxing, of course. It took quite a few drinks, but finally she fell back onto the bed they shared and drifted off to a drunken slumber. Quietly, he climbed from the bed and gently turned Isabelle on her side, placing a soft pillow under her arm. She often sought him out in sleep and he did not want her to awaken, so his hope was that the pillow would do the trick. He donned his robe and slipped out of the room. His bare feet made no sound on the runner carpet as he hurriedly rushed down the hall to Marguerite's chamber. He opened the door, noting it was unlocked. He wondered if she left the door unlocked on purpose in anticipation of his arrival. He smiled at the thought and silently slipped inside her room and quietly closed the door behind him.

Darkness hung heavily around the edges of the room with the exception of the full moon's light that slid in from a large bank of windows on the far side of the room. He was thankful the drapes were open or else he would have never been able to see in the darkened room. It was another clue she had been expecting him, for why else leave the curtains open especially when there was such a chill in the air. He moved slowly to the bed, trying to keep quiet. He did not want to startle her.

She looked so lovely, angelic even, lying there with her pale complexion, full lips and dark curling lashes. He ached to kiss her, to taste her sweet lips... if only for a moment.

It would assuredly be the most profound moment of his life... to kiss the one girl with whom he had a true connection. She treated him as though he were an actual person who she enjoyed talking with about any number of interesting topics. She loved books and, more times than not, they had both wanted to read the same book. So they had begun to share them and met once a week to discuss their thoughts with one another.

Isabelle on the other hand did not have much use for his thoughts She was more interested in his prowess in bed. He could go all night and Isabelle loved that about him, or so she told him, often in the midst of their love play in the bedroom, library, study, carriage, once in the stable, and of course on the dining table. He smiled with that remembrance... the table was one of the more interesting and pleasing places to have sex. The smooth surface of the table made it easier to slide her back and forth in her gown while repeatedly driving into her. He smiled again. Yes, the table was very pleasing.

He lifted his hand and smoothed her long hair away from her face. Not able to help himself, he leaned forward and gave her the gentlest of kisses, waking her slowly. She moaned ever so slightly in response and rolled onto her back. He smiled sweetly down at her, undoing the belt to his robe and shrugged it off his shoulders. The robe fell soundlessly to the floor. The cool air sent shivers across his skin. He pulled the blanket back slowly to climb under the covers.

She opened her eyes.

"Shhh, it is me love, do not be afraid," he whispered.

She sat up and shoved her hair from her eyes. "Devlin?"

"Yes, my love," he said tenderly.

"What are you doing?" She scooched further away from him on the bed.

"What does it look like I am doing?"

"I hope to God you are sleepwalking because if you are not we have a serious problem."

Devlin misunderstood. "Do not worry yourself over such trivial matters my sweet. Isabelle is sound asleep. I am sure she will not wake until morning," he assured her as he tried to snuggle closer to her in bed.

She sputtered and pushed against him. "Please stop," she said. "Devlin, are you insane? Did you drink too much of Isabelle's sherry? Has alcohol muddled your mind like Sebastian's?"

"I do not understand. I thought we had a connection," he said, shaking his head as though he could not quite grasp what was happening or why.

Marguerite backed up even more and then pulled her legs up to her chest. "Listen, you and I are acquaintances through circumstance, with a few common interests in books, nothing more."

"But, I thought..."

"That is the problem... you thought."

He lifted his face and looked at her. "Perhaps..." he trailed off and reached over to pull her too him, thinking she only needed a little encouragement.

"Stop it, Devlin!" she yelled, pushing against his body with her feet until she shoved him completely from the bed.

Devlin hit the ground hard. The cool air making him shiver. He stood up, completely forgetting that he was naked.

Marguerite stared at him, her eyes widening and then she did the most horrific thing imaginable.

She laughed.

It was not a simple laugh either. No, no, her laugh was cruel. She intended to do the most damage and did not stop there.

"Oh dear," she said, trying to stifle her laughter. "Surely you did not come to my room and expect to have your way with me?" she asked, her tone taking on a mean, cruel edge as she looked him up and down.

Devlin was in shock. He stood completely still, his body and mind fully exposed to her jeers.

"Oh dear, look at your face. Devlin..." she began and then stopped with another fit of giggles. She got herself back under control and, wiping a stray tear from her eye said, "You are my aunt's stud... I mean... ah... husband, if you could call it that." She waved her hand dismissively like that was of no consequence. She took a breath. "There is no way in hell I am going to sleep with you... ever."

"Because I am married to Isabelle," he said, thinking it would be a fitting end. "We could divorce," he added hopefully as an afterthought.

She frowned and was quiet for a moment and then let out an exasperated sigh. "Devlin, it is not because of Isabelle."

"Then why?" he asked, because he did not understand.

She wrinkled her face, and then pursed her lips together as if debating her answer. "Try not to look so forlorn. What I am referring to is in no way a personal matter, really." She pulled her knees back into her chest. "I simply prefer a more virile type of man, one with brawn and substance." She looked him up and down again. "And, I hate to point out that you, Devlin, do not possess any of my requirements."

He recoiled from her cruel words. They chilled him to his core. She was no better than Isabelle. He reached down, grabbed his dressing robe from the floor, and pulled it on, tightening the belt. He strode out of her room, her laughter following in his wake.

♦

Devlin's mind came back to the present. His body shuddered involuntarily from the painful memory. He lifted his glass and took another hefty swallow of his drink. And even still, after all this time, not to mention the abysmal way she treated him, he should hate her. Instead, he found he still wanted her so badly it made his insides churn. He let out a shaky sigh and finished his drink.

He always wondered why she never mentioned that night to Isabelle. And why, when their paths did cross, he was surprised to find that she never acted unpleasantly towards him. Of course, he tried to avoid her, but he found his eyes would follow her everywhere she went. And every once in a while, when she did not think he was looking, he caught her watching him as well.

Of course, that was before Marguerite had walked up the gravel path in the garden and caught Devlin with his breeches around his ankles, taking Judith against one of the statues in the garden. Judith preferred the outdoors. It was easier to hide from the prying eyes of the staff and Isabelle. He was nearing climax when she walked around the corner and froze, her eyes widening in wonderment. He thought she would bashfully turn away, scream, or run and yet, she simply stood there, watching. He kept his gaze trained on her beautiful face as he continued to thrust into Judith from behind as she writhed and moaned in pleasure until he finally found his release. It was one of the most explosive climaxes he had ever experienced in his life.

It was two days after the episode in the garden when Marguerite had approached him in the library and had told him he had to get rid of Judith or else she would tell Isabelle. Of course, he could not let that happen.

He had stupidly told Judith, and on the evening of Marguerites and Sebastian's marriage. Judith decided to take matters into her own hands. She was getting rid of Marguerite once and for all. On some level, Devlin was sure Judith sensed his feelings toward Marguerite and that was why she was so hell- bent on getting rid of her.

Thankfully, Judith botched up her attempt at murder and now Marguerite was back. He closed his eyes and silently thanked the Lord above and while he was at it, begged for forgiveness for his part in the entire debacle.

# A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

Somewhere near Ravenhurst \- Isabelle

SNOWFLAKES floated absently to the ground from the black sky above as she made her escape. She wondered when the snow had fallen. Was it not too early for snow? She stumbled. Her hands and feet were like ice. The pain that was so intense only moments before began to fade into numbness. Isabelle knew she should be worried about whether or not she would ever make it to Ravenhurst, or if Devlin would find her, but instead, her mind strayed to Clive, her deceased brother. The way he passed had always seemed a bit too tidy to her.

The Estate Grounds – Ravenhurst –- Memory

THE HUNT

Whips rent the air, cracking loudly... Clive was at the front of the pack, the one that chased the "Master of Hounds," his pink coat in vibrant contrast to the scenery. There were fifteen men riding in the hunt. "the huntsman" and at least two "whipper-ins" kept the hounds in a pack off in the distance. The hounds barked loudly, alerting the group they were about to run the fox to ground. A large hedgerow ran through the middle of the hill. It was dangerously high on one side. Only a rider with a death wish would jump over the hedge at full speed. The ravine was only a short distance away, and you would have to land perfectly.

Clive raced ahead of the group, flying at breakneck speed, his horse eating up the ground. He turned, calling out over his shoulder, the wind whipping his light brown hair. He was quite a spectacle to behold. Dashing, handsome even, Isabelle suddenly saw what Victoria had always seen in Clive. He was so arrogant, but in that moment, he was simply beautiful.

The jump was risky, almost impossible, and yet everyone held their breaths, hoping, watching in disbelief as his horse flew upwards over the hedge. She could not believe he actually cleared the jump.

It happened so quickly. His trusty, dapple-gray hunter stumbled forward unnaturally. Clive's body followed, flying from his horse. The entire scene slowed in her mind. It was almost as if an invisible force reached up and waylaid Clive.

The group took a moment to react and by the time everyone reached the top of the ridge, it was too late. Clive's horse was limping away, two bright red slashes on each of his front legs.

It was obvious Clive was not as fortunate as his horse. Some of the group looked over the edge of the ravine, confirming to her that Clive was indeed gone.

♦

Tightness gripped her chest as her mind came back to the present. A single tear slipped from her eye, freezing as quickly as it fell. Ahead, she spotted a tree. If only she could make it to the tree, she could rest for a moment. Catch her breath, she told herself. Somehow, she made it. She fell at the base, leaning against the rough bark, and situated herself between the thick roots, jutting out from the frozen earth. She was so tired.

Tiny snowflakes danced across the horizon. So very beautiful they were. She closed her eyes, giving her body and mind over to a wintry slumber, knowing full well she may not ever awaken again.

# NEVER UNDERESTIMATE YOUR PARTNER

Hawthorne Manor

"IMPOSSIBLE!" Devlin shouted at the top of his lungs. "What in the hell do you mean, she is gone?" He threaded his fingers through his hair, infuriated, trying to control the urge to wrap his hands around Judith's throat and choke the life from her.

"I am not sure what happened," Judith wailed, wringing her hands together like a child. "One moment she was lying there unconscious. I wanted to make sure she was not ill," she said, trying to defend her actions. "How could I know she was being deceptive? She never tried the like before." She tried to make Devlin see the reasoning behind her words. When his expression did not alter, she leaned forward and tried another tactic.

"Please Devlin," she begged. "How was I to know she would trick me? She was lying on the floor and then, the next thing I knew, I woke up in that stinking pit all alone with my face in her vomit. Thank goodness she left the door open or else I would have been trapped." She shivered and wrapped her arms around her mid-section.

Devlin was so angry, he could not think straight. And Judith's constant yammering was not helping any. He needed to think fast but he could not, because Judith would not shut the hell up. "My God Judith, please shut your mouth! I can not think with that trap of yours yapping in my ear."

Judith stumbled back.

Devlin bent over and braced his hands on his thighs, trying to catch a breath. He lifted his head and ran his hands down his face. "She will run straight to Ravenhurst." He barked out a bitter laugh of defeat. "Now what in the hell do we do, Judith?"

"We?" she asked in appalled shock. "I told you we needed to get rid of her, but you wanted her to sign those blasted papers. I knew you were taking a chance," she accused, walking towards him and dashing her hand through the air. She lifted her finger and pressed it into his chest. "But no... you," she stressed the word and poked him again with her finger. "You can not do anything my way?" She poked her finger into his chest once again. "Can you?" Her voice turned shriller by the moment. "No, you can never do anything right, can you Devlin?" she railed once more, completely missing the look that fell over his face.

Devlin stood there, his blood pumping through his veins as he clenched his hands into fists.

Judith finally caught his look and tried to backtrack. "Please do not be angry with me," she implored. "Let's take the money we have and leave this place before she ever reaches Ravenhurst. We can go abroad, make a new life with new identities. It worked before, why not again?"

Devlin felt like he was suffocating, and she was not helping. He tried to step away from her but she held fast to his arm. "Judith, let go of me." His voice held an icy edge.

"Please, Devlin, let us leave now." She petted his arm.

Finally, Devlin could not take it anymore. She was driving him mad with her insipid ways. "Judith, let me go."

"No, Devlin... please... I said I was sorry."

"What for Judith? Letting Isabelle escape? Almost killing Marguerite? Or are you sorry you ever became involved with me?"

Judith's temper flared as soon as she heard Marguerite's name. She stepped into his face. "So, we are back to that little bitch, again. What in the hell is wrong with you, Devlin? Open your eyes... that girl thinks you are a rutting stag for her guardian, nothing more. I can not believe how stupid you are. She does not care for you, never has. And yet you still drool all over her like some lovesick puppy dog. You are pathetic," she scathed.

Devlin could not take it. He had enough of her verbal abuse to last a lifetime. An image of him as a young child flashed in his mind. His own mother screaming at him, telling him was pathetic, and that he would never be anything. He lost it. He tried to pass Judith but she stepped in his way. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and violently tossed her body away from his. He had to get out of the house, he could not breathe.

Judith slammed face first into the wall and fell to the ground, stopping Devlin as he tried to exit. A trickle of blood slid down her chin from where she must have bit the inside of her mouth. She lifted her finger and looked at it. "I am bleeding," she complained, sounding surprised.

Devlin clenched his hands together as he paced back and forth in front of her. He gave her a look full of loathing. "Now see what you made me do? I told you to shut your mouth... I have to think. But no, you can not listen, can you? You never listen, do you, Judith?" he repeated her own words back to her.

Judith narrowed her eyes and used the sleeve of her gown to wipe the blood from her mouth. She went too far and now there would be no pacifying him, at least not this day. She needed to get the hell out of here while she was still in one piece. She knew what men were capable of when they were provoked. She had always thought Devlin was different, but obviously, he was not.

Devlin stopped pacing. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at it, in frustration and then he began to laugh. It was a small chuckle at first and then it became louder as the last grains of his sanity appeared to slip away.

"You do realize, Judith, we will hang from the gallows for sure now," he stated simply. He pulled at his jacket sleeve and then tugged on the cuff of his shirt. "Well, there is nothing to do now, I suppose," he said the latter with a candor he did not feel. Truly, he was past feeling. Why bother? He walked purposefully over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. He lifted the glass, tossed the contents back, and poured another, thinking he may as well enjoy it while it lasted.

Judith felt the inescapability of the situation and began to take pity on the man that was more than a bedfellow to her. At times, she felt as though they were truly destined for one another. She cleared her throat, cautiously gauging his reaction to her next words.

"Devlin, surely she has not gotten very far. It is cold and getting late. Besides the cold, she has to make her way through the snow as well. It must be weighing heavily on her skirts by now."

"What did you say?"

"I said it was getting dark."

"Not that, JUDITH!" he said, quickly getting frustrated again. "I meant the last thing you said."

"I do not know what you are asking me." Judith leaned further back against the wall.

Devlin squeezed his glass as he tried to control his growing ire again and stalked purposefully towards his quarry with slow deliberation. Kneeling down, he took her chin in his hand and looked directly into her eyes. "How long?" he asked slowly, his voice coming out unnaturally calm.

"How long what, Devlin?" Judith mumbled past his fingers.

He slowed his words, articulating each one. "How. Long. Has. Isabelle. Been. Gone.?"

"I really can not say."

Devlin pushed her away in disgust.

Judith slid up the wall and stood, wondering if she could make a run for it. She inched closer to the doorway. "Surely it was not that long. As I said, there is snow, and if you go now, surely you can find which way she went." Judith froze when Devlin halted his pacing.

A slow smile crept across Devlin's face. If he acted quickly, he may have a reprieve from the gallows after all. Grabbing a fresh bottle of liquor, he gave Judith one last, derisive look. She was pitiful. He wondered why in the hell he ever wasted his time on her.

Devlin put on his greatcoat and hat and strode purposefully out of Hawthorne Manor and into the dark night, hoping to find Isabelle before she made it to Ravenhurst.

# FINDERS KEEPERS

Radcliff Manor

THE Duke of Radcliff, Grayson Radcliff, wiped a wet cloth across his new houseguest's brow. "Who are you?" he whispered, more to himself than the woman lying in his bed.

When he discovered her on his way home from town, she was practically frozen. It was purely by chance he found her at all. If his horse had not insisted on investigating a small patch of grass sprouting from the snow, he would have never even seen her lying at the base of a tree. Her eyes shut, her brows, lashes, and hair covered with a fine dusting of snow, that made her appear like a winter princess in her very own, winter wonderland.

Not wasting a moment, he quickly dismounted and checked her body for any signs of life. Her pulse was weak and faint at best. Gathering her up in his arms, he held her snugly against his chest, trying to give her whatever warmth he could as he remounted his horse. He carried her back to his home as quickly as the weather would permit.

# THE CRAZY THINGS THAT YOU DO

Ravenhurst

I DECIDED I had had it with the past. I wanted to go home and forget all about this place and its occupants. Why should I change my entire life just to help some knight I did not even know? Surely, Milford could find someone else. Stopping my pacing, I looked at the dresser, some of my vehemence fading from my rant.

Taking a breath, I opened the bottom drawer, and took the necklace from the box. It really was beautiful. The blood-red stone sparkled in the light. The most unusual detail about the necklace was the strange little adornments resting on parts of the stone, protruding from the gold. They looked out of place somehow, not original, maybe added later, but why? I wished Amelia were around somewhere, even if she was a rude bitch at the party. At least she could probably date the piece. I searched the recesses of my mind, trying to recall anything similar.

The more I touched the stone, the warmer it became, and the color began to turn a deeper red with white smoke swirling within. Holding the necklace tightly, I felt a jolt run through my body while a scene unfurled in my mind with vivid clarity.

New York City – Present Day - Flash

A dark-haired girl walked down an elegant hallway, humming a light, airy tune. She was wearing a gorgeous, swirling-print dress reminiscent of vintage Pucci. Of course, it fit her like a glove. She was also wearing a pair of Christian Louboutin sling-backs, unmistakable with their bright red soles. I could spot those suckers up to a block away on the street.

My clothes-envy switch turned on instantly. The girl's sweet shoes echoed across the marbled floor. The scene mesmerized me until my insatiable purse-envy kicked into high gear. The girl grabbed a Kelly-green Birkin off the table, looked inside and pulled something out, then tossed it carelessly onto a chair.

I cringed.

Good Lord, did that girl not realize how awesome that purse was? You don't toss a Birkin—you set it down gently. There should be instructions on how to care for a Birkin. If the bag's owner doesn't abide by it, the Birkin police will come and take the bag away. And give it to someone deserving, someone like me, who would love and cherish it every day of my life.

The purse abuser walked past a large bank of windows, giving me a brief glimpse of a city lit up in the night. The girl sighed, which vibrated deep in my ear as she walked up to a huge mirror, a tube of Chanel lipstick in her hand as she leaned forward...

The necklace slipped from my fingers and thudded onto the floor. The unbelievable image stuck in my mind. "Who in the hell was that?"

Good Lord, the girl in my vision with the svelte figure and the awesome clothes looked exactly like me, well, with the exception of being quite a few pounds lighter, which was just not fair. Why in the hell was I envisioning myself in an extravagant apartment in some city, model-thin? And not only did I have one heck of a body, I also had one hell of a wardrobe.

Was that my future? Or was that someone who looked the same as I did on a really good day? Could that be Marguerite? It had to be. That was more believable than me having a svelte figure in the future.

I barked out a hysterical laugh. I sounded like a lunatic. I was starting to think that label wasn't so farfetched at this point. The entire situation was so outlandish, impossible, I couldn't help but wonder if I was going crazy. I could swear I smelt the girl's perfume lingering in the air, along with the muffled sounds of the city. I blinked hard. What was I doing, imagining in 4D? I suddenly wished I could do that all the time. Just imagine the dreams I could have. I shook my head, maybe not. I would never leave home. The entire situation was turning into a bad episode of The Twilight Zone.

I looked down at the necklace on the carpet, the stone glowing. I turned my face away, used the bottom of my gown as a buffer, and picked up the necklace. I rushed across the room to the dresser, pulled open the drawer and tossed it into the bottom, then kicked it shut. Slowly, I backed away.

Knock. Knock.

I jumped.

"Good grief." If I didn't stop all this jumping at every sound, I was going to give myself heart failure. Walking over to the door, I felt amped up, wired, like I had drank an entire pot of coffee.

I smoothed my hands over my skirt, reached out, and opened the door. It creaked loudly, and a gust of cool air hit me in the face.

"Ah..."

"Good evening." Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, holding a bottle of brandy and two glasses in his hand. "May I come in?" He pushed off the doorframe and entered the room without waiting for my reply.

Casually, he walked across the room. His shirt was undone and exposed hints of his naked muscular chest.

My mouth dropped open. His hair was damp, and wet the tops on the pristine fabric stretched across his broad shoulders. He smelled fresh and clean.... all man. I swallowed hard.

"Marguerite..."

"Yeah," I said and he gave me a strange look. "Ah, I mean, err, yes." I forgot I was supposed to be from the past.

"Would you care for a drink before we start?"

"Ah, um, sure." My brow creased. Before we start.

Sebastian poured two ample glasses of brandy.

I noticed his hand shook slightly. Was he drunk? "So, um... I did not see you at dinner." I reached out and took the glass when he offered it to me. My fingers touched his and just like every other time he touched me a tingle of awareness slid up my arm.

"I actually had a bite in my chamber just a short while ago." He took a healthy swallow of his drink.

"That is good to hear," I mumbled into my glass as I took a drink.

"There is a bit of a chill in the air," he said in an offhand manner and set his glass down on the mantle. Crouching down, he grabbed the poker beside the fireplace and jabbed it a few times against the coals. The flames jumped to life once more.

"Yes, a bit," I lied. Actually, if you asked me, I would say it was the opposite. My armpits were sweating and I could feel a trickle of sweat forming between my boobs.

Sebastian straightened from the fire and leaned against the mantel. "So where were we?" He picked back up his glass.

"Where were we?" I repeated.

"Yes, where were we, Marguerite?" He lifted his brow. "In the library," he elaborated, his deep voice coming out a bit brusque.

"Wait. You expect me to just continue... that?" I couldn't keep the shock from my voice.

Sebastian smiled a knowing smile, quite pleased with her deductive abilities. At least, she was not stupid. "Well... yes, actually," he said. "I was."

"Are you serious?"

He raised his brow. "I see no reason to continue this cat and mouse game we are playing. It is not as if you are an unskilled innocent. We have both traveled down the path of love, have we not?"

My mouth formed a perfect "O." The path of love? He couldn't be serious... could he? "I... ah... um..." I didn't know what to say to that. Picking up the shawl off the floor, I folded it up, and placed it back on top of the back of a chair.

"I am waiting." His brow hitched up higher.

"Well..." I stared at his gorgeous... absolutely perfect face. If I let my heart control my mind, I would jump at the chance to throw myself at him... right here... right now. But seriously, was that all I wanted?

Janice, fell into bed with everyone she dated and she was still single. Obviously, that strategy was not a winning formula. A roll in the hay for one night was not what I was aiming for. Even though I wasn't real sure what I wanted from him, but I knew it wasn't to be used and tossed aside like forgotten leftovers from one of his savory meals. No, I was better than that and my particular meal plan did not include being discarded leftovers. I wanted more. I wanted it to mean something, and not only to me. I wanted my night with him to be remembered with pleasure, not regret.

"Yes." He toyed with his glass, wondering if he may have overstepped his boundaries.

"As much as it pains me to say this, I just do not feel tonight is the night for us to travel down that particular path."

"I see." Although Sebastian did not see at all. It would be different if she were an innocent. She left him at the altar. Could it be possible she did not desire him? Ridiculous. He saw with his own eyes, felt with his own body, how she responded to him. What game was she playing? Well, he was going to find out.

Closing the distance between them, he placed his hand on her shoulder and spun her around. "At least, let me help you with your gown."

"Oh, ah..." I was prepared to run across the room, not trusting myself to be so close to him, but as his fingers began to undo each button of my gown, my body betrayed me. I did not want him to leave. Grabbing my hair, I pulled it out of the way, to give him better access.

So much for my resolve. Apparently, I was pitiful.

The barest whisper of his breath wafted down my neck and his deft fingers left a fiery trail as he undid each button with slow deliberation.

"You confuse me," he breathed, as his fingers lingered on the last button. Leaning forward, he inhaled her sweet scent, and then barely pressed his lips against the nape of her neck.

"Well..." His lips on my neck were distracting, so were his fingers. "I confuse myself too."

Sebastian continued his silent assault and when she did not object, he pulled her body even closer to his. Leaning forward he lowered his mouth back down to her neck and kissed her gently....

I found, I suddenly didn't care if I ended up as tossed out leftovers. Seriously, who knew if I would even be here in the morning? I turned slightly and my dress slipped further down, and truth be told, I did not care about that either. Positioned in front of the mirror with him behind, leaning over me, I watched. His dark hair fell forward as his mouth teased and continued lower. When his smoldering gaze met my own, I couldn't help shivering. It was all a bit erotic.

"May I?" Sebastian asked, his voice gruff with desire.

I nodded.

He went even lower.

"Ohm." I tightened my hold.

His mouth closed over my nipple. I pulled him closer. It felt so good.

"You taste so damn sweet." He looked up at me and his eyes smoldered in the dim light as the tips of his fingers slid slowly down my side until my gown slipped over my hips.

I didn't protest, like I probably should. Instead, I let my dress go and wrapped my arms more securely around his broad shoulders.

His mouth found mine again. I could taste the sweet liquor on his warm tongue as it lashed against my own. I threaded my fingers through the dampened ends of his hair.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured.

That did it. I was lost.

Sebastian yanked his shirt from his trousers and undid the last of the buttons. Pressing in, skin to skin, he ran his hands over the curve of her buttocks, kneading them. Lost in the moment, he quickly slipped back to where they left off in the library earlier. Lowering his hand, he slid it down between her thighs.

"I want you... now." He throbbed to be inside of her, he was so close... again. He seized her mouth with his own, delving his tongue inside, tasting her sweetness. "...Marguerite..." he murmured hungrily as he slid his free hand up her inner thigh.

It felt like a slap and I tensed, mortified—devastated. Marguerite... not Katherine! I felt like someone had just ripped my freaking heart from my body and tossed it carelessly to the ground. It had the same effect as a bucket of freezing water would have had—freezing me, humiliating me. I was such a fool. He thought I was Marguerite, and even worse, I had an awful feeling that he had already done this with her.

I was envious of Marguerite and filled with revulsion at my own foolishness. Of course, he thought I was Marguerite. I now knew Marguerite was a better copy of myself with better clothes. I saw that much in the vision. I wanted to scream at him, at myself, for my own stupidity and the dumb, idiotic legend.

"I can not..." Pressing my hands against his chest, I pushed him away and then yanked the thin chemise gown back over my breasts. Tears filled my eyes and my vision blurred. I couldn't breathe.

Sebastian did not move. Not an inch. His eyes searched hers in confusion. His body felt abandoned and aroused at the same time.

I stared up into the stormy gray depths of his eyes, and my heart squeezed at the thought of him and Marguerite in this very same situation—I couldn't take it. Stifling a sob, I covered my mouth as my eyes filled with more angry, humiliating tears. My resolve faltered as his eyes burned into my own. I couldn't stand it a minute longer. I hated myself. Why? Why couldn't I be more like Janice? She wouldn't care if he thought she was someone else. Or would she?

Yes, even Janice would have cared that much. I had to go before I lost it completely.

"I am sorry," I tossed out in his general direction and made a run for the bathroom. Slamming the door shut, I twisted the lock and rested my forehead against the wood. "Stupid... Stupid... Stupid!" I bumped my forehead against the wood, letting the tears finally fall.

Sebastian stepped forward. He had no idea what had just happened. What he did feel, was absolute perfection. His mind could not have conjured a more seductive scene. He was so close... again. Then he was literally abandoned. He knew she felt it as well, or did she? Did she remember her heart belonged to another?

Angrily, he raked his hands through his hair and then rubbed them over his face. He could not believe his own stupidity. How could he have foolishly believed it was over between her and the rakehell she had left him for?

He turned and crossed the room and lifted the bottle from the table. He paused and looked at the closed door that now separated them from one another. It was a silly door, that was no more than ten feet from him and yet it could have been a continent, there was suddenly so much space between them both. He strode purposefully to the door and pressed his head against the wood. He lifted his hand to knock—it was the same door she had literally shut herself away from him behind. His hand hovered over the wood, he wanted to see if she was all right and then, he could not. He could not do it. Instead, he forced himself to leave before he did something reprehensible, like beg her to think of him and forget the scoundrel that abandoned her.

No, he would not let her see his vulnerability, not her, not anyone. He was an idiot. He strode out of her chamber without a backward glance, tempted to venture outside and toss himself into the nearest snow bank. "Bloody Hell!"

# ONCE A THIEF ALWAYS A THIEF

Hawthorne Manor

JUDITH held her skirts in one hand as she ran through the corridors of Hawthorne Manor. She only stopped long enough to grab anything of value she saw and stuff it in her ever-growing satchel. The bag thumped loudly on the stairs as she dragged it down to the foyer. To catch her breath, she leaned on the hall table and looked about for anything else that may be light enough to carry.

"Think, Judith!" Her voice echoed eerily through the halls.

She turned and looked toward the study. The portrait of Isabelle and her creepy brother was hanging over the mantel. He was not unattractive. Actually, he was quite the opposite, but something was unsettling about the way he looked... something about what the artist had captured in his expression. Well, it did nothing for Judith besides give her the creeps. She turned away, but not before she noticed Isabelle was wearing her jewels in the portrait.

"Ha! Ha! Isabelle!" She was suddenly filled with giddy excitement. Not wasting another moment, she lifted her skirts high above her ankles again and took off up the curving staircase. She knew she would have to be quick if she was to get the hell out of here before Devlin returned. He was not someone she would wait for again. She may have had some feelings for the man, but after he pushed her into the wall and raged at her like a lunatic... well... she did not sign on for that type of abuse.

He was a bloody idiot and at the rate he was going he was surely going to have his neck stretched while his body danced for the hangman. She may have shared many things with Devlin, but she was not going to share his fate that was served up from his own stupidity. Certainly not. She was a survivor and knew when to get when the getting was good. How else could she have survived this long, if she had not left when it was prudent?

Luckily, she had the wherewithal to make some emergency arrangements if the little game Devlin and she were playing went awry. She only wished she had more time to collect the items she needed so she could leave with a little less haste.

"Well, there is nothing to be done about that now." She sighed and stuffed the last pieces of jewelry into the drawstring bag as she walked across the room to the wardrobe and opened it up to retrieve Isabelle's favorite ermine-lined, dark green cloak with the hood and matching muff. She pulled it out and hugged the items closely against her body. They would certainly keep her warm on a night such as this. An image of Isabelle's face popped into her mind. She tried to force it away, but it lingered.

"I am not going to feel bad for taking these, Isabelle," she yelled out to the empty room. "Yo... uu... You... should not have been so stingy when I asked for one... Isabelle." Her voice caught on itself. "But nooo, could not get me one could you?" She pulled the fine items closer to her body as she left the bedchamber and made way down to the foyer.

Once at the bottom, she took one last look around and reminisced for a moment. Oh, she and Devlin, they did have some good times here. Images of Devlin flitted through her mind. His penetrating gaze, his easy laughter, his longevity in the bedchamber. Oh, he knew how to pleasure a woman. He had proven he was rather good in bed, and Judith had her fair share of bedmates to compare him to. Yes, her Devlin was definitely at the top of the list. "What a damn shame." She shook her head.

"Oh well, I suppose I will have to start anew." She reached down and grabbed the satchel that was about to burst open. She knew she should leave it, she would travel faster without it, but as always with Judith, her insatiable greed won out. Hastily she donned the cloak and grabbed hold of the heavy satchel once more. Not looking back, she dragged it and her other newly acquired possessions out the door of Hawthorne Manor and into the snow- filled night.

# REGRET LEAVES A BITTER TASTE

Ravenhurst

THE bathroom door creaked open and I stuck my head out and looked around. The room was empty. I wasn't sure what I expected, for obviously Sebastian wouldn't still be here, especially after the way I left him. But in my own defense what was I supposed to do? Sleep with him after he called me another girl's name. Of course, it wasn't his fault, really.

I tried not to think about what could have been... or how good it probably would have been as I made my way to the bureau. I opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a fresh gown. It was another pretty thing. All white and ruffled, with flounces at the hemline. It had darling mint-green leaves embroidered down the neckline and on the cuffs. The robe was decorated much the same. It was a sweet ensemble. I pulled it quickly over my head and walked over to the mirror. I made a face. A stranger with overly bright eyes stared back at me. I touched my lips that were still reddened from Sebastian's kisses.

I looked wide-eyed, innocent, and naughty all at the same time. I felt sure this was how girls enticed the lords of the estate. Of course, I wouldn't have minded enticing one particular lord. Oh, how I wished he didn't think I was someone else. I couldn't help but wonder how I would feel tomorrow if I decided to throw caution to the wind and search him out, anyway. He did not even know my name but that in itself was freeing... wasn't it? There were no rules in this past. There was no one to judge me. And the more I thought about it, the more I talked myself into thinking I may have been a bit too hasty in my original decision.

Perhaps I shouldn't have ended the evening with him. What would it have been like to be with someone like Sebastian? How would it feel to have him make love to me? I was getting warm and bothered all over again. I placed my cool hands against my flushed face.

Seriously, who would I prefer to be with for the first time? One of my exes? Or a gorgeous man in the past who just left my borrowed room after stealing my breath with his kisses? I had already kissed plenty of toads. Not one of them had ever made me feel the way he did. I wasn't a child.

No.

I was an adult and I was perfectly capable of making my own choices when it came to rolling around in bed. There was no one to judge. Why not?

"Yes... why not indeed?"

With my newfound resolve, I grabbed the handle of the door and opened it up. "Well there is no time like the present or in my case... the past." A burst of giddy laughter erupted from me as I braced myself to seek Sebastian out for a redo.

A burst of frigid air poured against my back. It felt like someone had just opened up a window behind me, which didn't make any sense. I was headed out the door and the breeze was blowing against my back from inside. And I didn't open up any damn windows. It felt like I was standing outside in the snow, in a freezer. It was that cold. Instinctively, I stepped back, the cold air was making me second-guess my decision.

Maybe I was being too hasty. Maybe I should find the source of the breeze first and think about throwing caution to the wind for a bit longer. Once the deed was done, there was no going back. So I had better be sure.

Trying to locate where the breeze was coming from, I methodically walked around the room. And of course, I ended up right in front of the "you're giving me one hell of a creepy feeling" wardrobe. Bending down, I looked under it. There were carved gargoyle talons wrapped around clear glass balls... were those wheels?

"Oh great... perfect..." More gargoyle crap. I stood back up and stared at the wardrobe. Something looked odd. I could have sworn it was over to the left more, closer to the mirror. Was it crooked? I pushed against the doors. The entire wardrobe swung back and slammed against the wall. "What the hell?"

Turns out it was just like the door to the library... it looked heavy, but it really wasn't. Reaching out, I pulled the wardrobe away from the wall once more.

There was a big ass hole behind it. Shivers of unease swept over me. Freaking out, I stepped away from the hole. What really freaked me out was my sudden temptation to investigate.

"OH, come on! When did I become a detective?" Of course, I'd seen enough scary movies to know you never, ever, go investigating alone. Seriously, who in the hell did I think I was... Nancy freaking Drew?

"Please. Not even close." I was a chicken, as in Kentucky Fried. I took a step forward and looked down in the hole. It was black as pitch and so cold, my breath turned white as I released it. Holding onto the wall, I stuck my head into the opening. "Is anyone there?"

# JUSTICE MAKES A CRUEL BEDFELLOW

Somewhere near Ravenhurst

THE wind tore at Devlin, whipping his greatcoat. He pulled the brim of his hat lower as he rode his horse further into the storm. The snow was falling in earnest now, making it almost impossible to see. He tucked his chin down into his collar and lightly chuckled at the irony of it all.

He was actually lying to the staff when he said a blizzard was approaching. Now he was out in the middle of one. He came upon a lone tree in the middle of the field and halted his mount under the heavy canopy of snow-laden limbs to get his bearings. The trail he was following had disappeared under another fresh blanket of snow. He reached down into one of his saddlebags and pulled out the bottle of brandy he took when he left, and dismounted. Leaning against the base of the tree, he took a hefty swig of the fiery liquid and held it in his mouth before finally letting it slide down his throat to warm his innards. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he looked across the horizon. He did not even feel the cold any longer.

Everything suddenly seemed so useless.

What a pity. He had it all so neatly tied up, too, but he let himself become too arrogant and self-assured. Truly, he knew better than to entrust Judith with anything, or anyone, for that matter.

Leaving her with the care of Isabelle had been his second mistake. The first was getting involved with her in the first place. She was an idiot. Repeating his earlier ritual, he took another long pull on the bottle. He lowered it back down and shook his head. No, he had been a complete fool and let his more basic desires control his better judgment, and to what end? Did his mother not fall into the same trap? She trusted a titled gentleman, hoping he would pull her from the drudgery she had lived in every day, and what did that get her? Nothing, but a life worse than the one she already had. She had foolishly entrusted him with all her wealth and money, and soon became nothing more than a street whore, just like Judith. Of course, his mother did what she could to care for him.

Unfortunately, the only way she found to make a life for herself was to lift her skirts for coin, while waiting in vain for his father to return. She did her best, he supposed. She schooled him to be a gentleman of means, which, she assured him, was his birthright, although he was never as convinced as she was. She had dressed him in finery and had made sure he was educated. She told him he was their equal, the upper class. Never once admitting to herself or him that he was no better than the very people they both disdained. She told him repeatedly that his father was a very powerful man and would someday come for them.

But alas, that never happened. He was sure his life would soon end in much the same way as his mother's until the auspicious day he stumbled upon Isabelle. She was older by at least two decades, but she was attractive and had a way with men, especially younger ones. She so loved younger men. She did not care a whit that he had no money of his own, for she had enough for them both, which she often told Devlin in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

She was his one-way ticket out of hell. She was even married once and widowed quickly. Devlin never knew what malady took her first husband, and he really did not care, especially since his demise left her a very wealthy woman. As an eccentric, she had little use for the rules of society. She openly flaunted many of her younger lovers in front of the Ton, an elite group of her wealthy peers, the upper crust. She would pull him aside at balls and whisper about the harpies, as she called them, but they were really a group of her so-called friends. She would laugh and tell Devlin they were turning green with envy since she was able to bed her choice of virile partners, while they had to bed down with old doddering fools.

Devlin was no fool. He knew she used him in her own way to rebuff the standards society had placed upon her. He could not complain, for she was a skilled lover.

He laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all.

Of course, she was skilled...she had had a lot of practice. But that never really mattered to him, as she was a means to an end, and wealth was what he so readily sought.

They were quite a pair, the two of them, and truthfully, he never minded that she was older for a moment. He was even starting to become quite fond of her and their arrangement. That was until he met Marguerite, who stole his breath from his chest the very moment he laid eyes on her. She was a beauty beyond compare and in turn, he was smitten at once.

Of course, Isabelle was no fool. She sensed a change in him after he met Marguerite. Isabelle simply could not satisfy Devlin as she once had, and in turn quickly arranged a betrothal between Marguerite and her nephew, Sebastian. It may not have been so bad but Isabelle was not one to let sleeping dogs lie. No, she rubbed salt in the open wound of his heart and constantly droned on and on about what a wonderful man Sebastian had become, and continually reminded Devlin that he, Sebastian, was an earl and had a vast amount of money and lands, and blah, blah, blah.

It made Devlin sick every time he thought about that blasted do-gooder Sebastian, touching any part of Marguerite. He could never appreciate her the way Devlin did. Why was Sebastian allowed to fill his heart's desire, and he, Devlin, was not? It made him ill to think too much about it.

He snorted in disgust and took another long pull from the bottle. Mayhap that was the actual start of his undoing. Had he not reached beyond his means, or been satisfied with the cards dealt him, perhaps everything would have turned out differently. His life was not so bad, after all. Was it not enough that he had, not one, but two women, begging for his ministrations in bed? Or that he had all the money available to spend that he could ever want or need, if only he asked Isabelle nicely? She was not tight with her purse strings. Actually, she was quite the opposite. She purchased his clothing, bought him the finest horseflesh, and had a carriage made just for him.

He was in the perfect relationship, but he found he wanted more. Was that the way of it? He wondered. Even if he did have Marguerite, would he someday look at her while thinking to himself she was not enough, either?

Mayhap that was why he thought Judith was different. Was he trying in his own way to save her from the same fate as his mother? Could saving Judith from the streets somehow make amends for not saving his mother? He often hoped she could fill the void he found within himself, but she was only a short reprieve as well. It all seemed so useless at times.

And even now, he no longer knew what drove him to where he found himself. He had everything, but it was still not enough. Now he was close to losing everything he had worked so hard to gain.

With Isabelle free, she could have made it to Ravenhurst by now. It was only a short ride away. He took a heavy breath. Yes, it would only be a matter of time before he found himself with nothing more than he started with, except this time, he would be sent to the gallows, and that place was so much worse. That realization made him laugh out loud. He shook his head and took another pull from the bottle. The sound of his laughter was bitter and hollow. How did he not see before?

♦

Judith burrowed her face deeper into the folds of Isabelle's cloak as the horse she took from the stables picked its way through the ever-deepening snow. She was a friendly, docile horse, and they were making good time until the blasted snow started falling in earnest again, making the beast unsure of her whereabouts. Somehow, she got turned around and now had no idea where she was.

"Damn you Devlin!" At least Isabelle was good for something...her cloak kept Judith pretty warm, considering. She amended quickly, Isabelle's cloak was good for something, not Isabelle, never Isabelle; she was a mean old bat. Lulled by the rocking motion of the horse, her thoughts strayed to Devlin. Being astride the horse reminded her of how much she would miss his insatiable prowess in bed. He really did know how to please a woman...

The mare stumbled.

Judith pitched forward and then reared back on the reins, regaining her seat. She turned to check on her goodies and gasped in horror. The satchel filled with all the items that what would turn into her ticket out of this place was sliding off the back of the horse. She wrenched her body around and quickly grabbed the handles but it was too heavy. The satchel clattered loudly to the ground.

Startled from the sound, the horse reared.

"Bloody Hell!" Judith yanked hard on the reins. The horse danced backwards. A sharp branch cut into the flank of the horse. The horse whinnied and bucked. Judith lost her seat and flew off the horse, landing face-first in the snow.

Judith groaned loudly, and rolled over.

Spooked, the horse took off in a flurry of fur and snow.

Snow mixed with sleet pelted her in the face. She crawled to her feet. Pulling her hood more snugly around her face, she wiped the wetness in the folds.

The wind whipped her cloak as she leaned forward and tried to pick up her satchel. She pulled on the handles, but it was simply too heavy. Again, she pulled as hard as she could. The satchel slid this time. The silver clanked and clattered loudly as she followed the trail left by her frightened horse.

♦

The invisible noose was tightening on his neck and Devlin was losing all hope of ever finding Isabelle in time. He lingered under the tree, disheartened, drinking every bit of the brandy he took from Hawthorne. Obviously, he would not be indulging in something this fine ever again, so he saw no reason not to partake fully now. Every drink he took burned a path down his gullet. It felt good...at least, he could still feel something. He could not believe his brilliant plan was crashing down around him, and for what? What had he gained? Nothing, that is what, and now he was at his wits' end. "Where the hell did she go?"

Draining the last of the bottle, he walked over to his horse and put it back into his saddlebag. Reaching out he balanced himself on the side of his horse, unsteady on his feet. It did not matter. What little hope he garnered was disappearing with every moment that passed. He climbed up on his horse.

A crash sounded, echoing in the darkness.

The saddle made a creaking sound when he leaned forward. Thick flakes of snow drifted slowly to the ground. In the distance, he could see a shape, no, a person, moving slowly through the drifting snow. "Could it be?" His pulse picked up. Maneuvering his horse out from under the shelter of the tree, he called out in the darkness, "Isabelle!"

Judith froze. Good Lord, did someone just yell Isabelle? No, it could not be... her body filled with dread. Her shoulders slumped. She knew who it was... Devlin. She did not think he would be too happy to see her, especially since he would know she was leaving him. It would be impossible not to notice with most of Hawthorne's valuables shoved in the satchel at her feet. She really had only one choice... run. And run she did. She took off across the field, the satchel quickly forgotten. Snow kicked up in her wake as she ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

Devlin was not to be thwarted. Not now, not with the balance of his own freedom hanging loosely by a thread. He dismounted quickly and chased after his quarry.

Judith ran onward through the snow, which was not easy, especially in a gown. Her lungs burned, and her legs ached from running, but she kept going. She felt him closing in. She was so intent on getting away from Devlin, she did not realize where she was headed. The dark crevice of the ravine loomed in front of her.

Devlin slowed his pace and stopped, trying to catch his breath. He bent over, braced his hands on his knees, and watched Isabelle run straight towards the ravine. In just a matter of moments, she would run right off the side. That would certainly be her fate if he did nothing to stop her. He battled an internal conflict. He could be quiet and let her seal her own fate thereby saving himself or...

"Oh, Bloody Hell!" he swore. He could not do it. He could not let her die. "STOP! DAMN YOU!"

Judith pulled up short, stopping on the very precipice of the ravine; still not seeing her doom that lay right before her. Slowly, she turned and looked directly at Devlin.

Devlin was stunned. Why was Judith in front of him? Dawning came slowly, but when it did, her motives were crystal clear. "Judith, what in the hell are you doing?" His eyes lowered to her hand. She was holding a bag and not just any bag either. It was one of Isabelle's jewelry bags.

Judith balled up her fists, ready for a fight. "I am running from you, fool," she spat out in disgust.

The wind carried her words towards Devlin and rang out loud and clear. "FOOL?" A bark of laughter split the air. "My God, Judith, you think I am a fool?" He laughed harder. He suddenly found her words hysterical.

"What is so funny?"

"Judith, you are a bloody idiot." He shook his head. "Have you always been this stupid or is this some new proficiency that you have acquired and have finally managed to master? If so, good work, you are doing one hell of a bang up job."

It took Judith a moment to catch the meaning behind his words. Her face flamed. "ME, stupid?" she screamed with uncontrolled rage. "How dare you call me stupid? If it were not for me, you would have been forgotten long ago by that doddering old hag you so liked to bed. I saved you from utter monotony. At least I could pleasure you in ways we both know that old woman could never accomplish. And you thanked me how, Devlin?" she asked pointedly. "I will tell you how. You turned on me... ME!" She thumped her finger against her chest.

Devlin absorbed every verbal blow she tossed his way. "Really?" he asked. "I think I may need some clarification on that subject, Judith. Who exactly, turned on whom?"

She shook her head, not understanding what he was getting at.

"Oh, I see, you do not understand the question." He shook his head as if saying, see you are stupid. "What is in the bag, Judith?"

"It is mine." Judith clutched the bag closer to her body. "I deserve it."

"You deserve it?" Devlin studied her a moment. "Interesting choice of words?" When she said nothing more he added, "I will bite. Why do you think you deserve a bag full of jewels? That is what you have in the bag, correct? Isabelle's Jewels?"

Judith's silence was all the answer he needed. He could not believe it. She was not only leaving him when he was in dire straits but also robbing him blind as well. He was beginning to see her with a new pair of eyes. "Judith, I asked you a question."

"Fine. Yes, they are her jewels," she said nastily. "Happy now?" She made a sour face. "Consider them payment for services rendered."

"Judith, Judith, Judith..." He shook his head. "I hate to tell you this, but there is no way anyone would pay that much money for your services."

"Why not?"

"You are not that good in bed."

Her expression changed and she narrowed her eyes. "That is perfect Devlin, thank you. You can stand on your moral high ground and think you are so much better than me but you are not. You are no better than me." She pulled the cloak closer to her body.

"Really, how is that Judith?" he had to ask.

"You let some doddering old hag have her way with you for coin. You are no better than I am, so I do not understand why you always pretend like you are. Your proficiency at gaining coin for your ministrations in bed astounds me as well, Devlin. Perhaps, you are right, I may not be as skilled of a lover as you, but you can not fault me for that. You were trained by a Master. I was not."

"Judith, what in the hell are you talking about? What Master?" Devlin yelled against the raging wind.

Judith screamed, very loud and clear, "Your mother!"

The wind died down as if someone turned a switch off.

Devlin felt the weight of her cruel words chill him to his core. He looked at her but did not see the girl in front of him now, but saw the one she was so long ago, when he met her. How could he have been so stupid to believe she actually cared for him? Perhaps she was right. He was stupid. Stupid for believing someone may have cared for him in the first place. "I misjudged you, Judith. I believe you may be right. I am stupid. Stupid for believing you were worth saving, when it is obvious you are not." He turned to walk away but paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Oh by the way Judith, you are standing on the edge of a ravine. Pray tell, who is the stupid one now?" He lifted his brow mockingly, then turned on his heel, and walked away.

Judith peered over her shoulder. He was right. She was standing just a few short feet away from the mouth of the ravine. She turned back around and took a few steps forward. Devlin was walking away as though she was of no consequence. She could not stand it. "DEVLIN!"

He did not turn.

"DEVLIN!"

Devlin heard her psychotic screams. He felt numb; he just did not have the fight in him any longer. So he kept walking.

Judith seethed. How could he walk away as if she were nothing... NOTHING? She could not stand the way she felt. She had nothing to fight with. She wished she had a gun to shoot him right in his cold-hearted back.

Without thinking, she threw her coveted bag of jewels at him.

The bag slammed into the back of his head.

Devlin staggered forward from the blow. His step faltered but he righted himself and kept right on walking.

Judith's whole body shuddered. She gasped for breath. What in the hell was she thinking? She needed those jewels. Of course, rage was controlling her emotions, not common sense.

But he did not even stop... he kept walking away... as if she was nothing... NOTHING! She covered her mouth to stifle the sobs that were threatening to escape. Having used the only physical weapon she had left, she felt helpless, exposed. Her whole body shook as she screamed in outrage. "You are a good-for-nothing wastrel. You will never fit in. NEVER, do you hear me?" Her sobs turned her taunts into disjointed pieces. "You are nothing but Isabelle's bitch! You did her bidding just as you did your mother's!"

Devlin stopped abruptly. A flash of anger surged through his veins. That was twice now she made misuse of his mother. He turned slowly around. Without taking his eyes from her face, he bent down and picked up the velvet purse. He pulled apart the golden braided cords and looked inside. A shimmering array of jewels lay in the bottom. He lifted his face to hers and pulled the cords closed. He smiled coldly at her and started to walk forward, tossing the bag up and down in his hand.

Judith's smile of satisfaction faded as soon as Devlin started to walk toward her. A cold wash of fear poured over her body. "Devlin... I... ah..." She looked over her shoulder and took a step back.

Devlin stopped. They both faced off at the edge of the ravine. Time seemed to stand still as they stared at one another. He was ready for battle, until the futility of the situation came crashing down around him. What was the point? Conceding the fight, he gave her one, long, last look and then tossed the bag of jewels in her direction.

The bag landed just short of the edge of the ravine. He took a breath and delivered his last comment with slow deliberation, "Go ahead and take the jewels, Judith. You may have them free and clear. Do not worry about me coming after you either, as I fear they will be all you will ever have." And with that final statement, Devlin Renquist turned and strode away from Judith, walking a little taller and straighter than he had in a very long time.

Judith watched him walk away, words eluding her for the first time in her life. He did not care about the jewels? How was that possible... she did not understand. Money is what they schemed for, connived for. This is what she, Judith, had tried to kill for. And yet after all this time he did not care, not a whit? Did he ever? She had to wonder.

With shaking hands, she pulled the hood of the cloak back up over her head. She gazed over at the bag of jewels, making up her mind. Devlin might believe he reformed and become a paragon, but he was not. He was a dimwitted fool. And even though he was stupid enough to leave the jewels behind, she was not. She deserved them.

Greed got the best of Judith. It always did. And that greed gave her courage when she may not have had any. She shuffled forward towards the edge of the ravine where the jewels were. Carefully she bent down in front of the big, black, gaping hole and grabbed the jewels up.

Excitement overtaking caution, she moved too quickly and stepped on the edge of her cloak. She pitched forward. Reflexively, she jerked back and tried to regain her balance, but the weight of the cloak combined with the snow was simply too heavy...slowly, she slid backward in the dark abyss of the ravine.

The last sight Judith Alexandra Beauchamp's eyes beheld was Devlin's silhouette walking away in the distance.

She really wished she had a gun.

# IF WALLS COULD TALK

Ravenhurst

CLUTCHING, the heavy poker in my hand, I tested its heft and swung it like a bat. It was my weapon of choice if the need arose. Suddenly, the wind that was gusting steadily through the hole in the wall stopped. Cold dread washed over me. I stepped back away from the opening, listening intently. I was trying to hear if someone was climbing the stairs. A bone chilling eerie silence was my reward. How did the wind stop, just like that? Was there another entrance? There had to be.

Well, at least that answered one of the many questions. Obviously, something was down there and whatever it was had stopped the air from coming up the stairs. Now the better question was, who or what had stopped the air and how?

They were all good questions, but I wasn't too sure I wanted to find out any of the answers.

Maybe I should just call it a day and hide under the blankets of my borrowed bed until morning. Right. Then whoever was down in the hole would sneak their gross ass up the stairs and kill me while I slept.

Nope, not going to happen. Besides, how could I sleep when I knew there was a big ass hole in the wall? No, I was going to have to find out what was down there. The little voice in my mind taunted me... curiosity killed the cat.

"Oh good Lord! What would stop it from killing me?"

Maybe I should give up being a detective and find Milford or the freakishly strong maid with the rag that tried to kill me earlier. If I got her in the room then at least I could shove her ass down the stairs and find out what was down there.

No, unfortunately shoving the maid down the stairs was not a real option either.

I could always ask Sebastian. "Oh, sure, sure, like he would be so happy to help me," I muttered, remembering the look on his face when I ran off in the middle of our heated moment together.

Accepting my own shortcomings, I sighed heavily. No, it was probably better to fly solo on this. Gathering what little courage I had left, I lifted the poker and walked in front of the wardrobe, my body poised for attack.

"AH HA!" I yanked the doors open. Imaginary crickets chirped in my mind. Nothing but an exorbitant amount of gowns and rows of shoes on the bottom greeted me. Setting the poker on the floor, I reached inside and pulled out several pairs of shoes. When the first row of shoes were out, I tried another approach. The gowns were too heavy to push aside and there were too many to take down, so I opted for the dive in headfirst approach.

Holding my breath, I shoved my head into the middle of the gowns and grabbed up as many shoes as I could without suffocating between crinoline, silk, and taffeta. Pulling my head back out, I took a big breath and dove in again.

After three tries, I had out all the shoes I could find. At least twenty pairs of shoes were in front of me. All kinds of styles, for a Victorian. And here I thought I had a lot of shoes. This girl put my meager ten pairs of shoes to shame. Sitting on my knees, I sorted through the shoes and found a pair of sturdy looking ankle boots. They were not nearly as nice as some of the other shoes but they would work better for what I had in mind....which was run if I found a monster was down in that black hole.

Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed in a warm plaid gown and was wearing my borrowed boots, which fit pretty good, considering. I grabbed a candle off the table and was now standing in front of the hole with the amulet around my neck. I put it on as a precautionary measure. If I somehow ended up somewhere where I didn't want to be, maybe I could switch places with the real Marguerite. That way I would get to dress to the nines in some fancy apartment in the future. "Yeah, like that would happen."

If the truth of the matter were told, I really had no idea what would happen, but it was a chance I was ready to take. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I threw caution to the wind and squeezed behind the wardrobe.

It was black as pitch. I lifted the candle to light the way. The flame fluttered, revealing a steep set of stairs. With each step I took down the steep incline of stairs, I couldn't help questioning my sanity. Tentatively, I tapped each step with my shoe, making sure the stair was secure. I didn't want to inadvertently fall into a hole... or worse...awaken the big nasty creature lurking down in the shadows, waiting to devour its next hapless victim...me.

#  CURIOUSITY KILLED THE CAT

Ravenhurst

MILFORD walked briskly through the shadowed corridor toward Marguerite's old chamber. Lifting his hand, he took a breath and knocked on the door.

No answer.

He tried again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Still no answer. He reached down and turned the handle. At least the door was unlocked. He pulled it open and quickly ducked inside the room and quietly shut the door behind him. He hoped Katherine was still awake. Silently, he walked to the bed. It was empty and still made.

A feeling of dread gathered in the pit of his stomach. He looked to his right, towards the water closet. The door was wide open. He crossed the room and looked inside. It was also empty. When he turned back around, he noticed all the shoes and a white sleeping gown on the floor.

Katherine was gone.

He had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling. "Where did you go?" He walked over to the bureau and looked through the drawers. With shaking hands, he lifted out the box and opened it up. The amulet was gone as well. He closed his eyes and swallowed past the lump in his throat. Please do not be down there... with him. He glanced warily at the wardrobe and his body shuddered involuntarily. Now what was he to do? Leave her to her own devices? And where would that lead Marguerite? And what would he do? Would he tell her?

If Katherine knew what she could do with the help of the amulet, would she still go through with what had been planned so long ago?

He let out a long weary sigh and ran his hands over his face. Well, if that happened it would be a moot point anyway. Katherine was the only person who could direct their fates now, even as twisted as they may become, and she was also the only one who could untwist those same fates.

He walked over to the door and glanced once again toward the wardrobe. With a heavy heart, he opened the door and slipped out into the shadowy corridor, making his way back to his own room. Once inside he shut the door and crossed the room. A lone chair stood in front of his hearth. There was a small table at its side. He walked over and sat down heavily in the chair, dropping his head into his hands as the full weight of the burden he created so many centuries before settled fully upon him, dragging memories from his past to the forefront of his mind.

Merlin's Secret Room – King Arthur's Realm

"So my little friend, I see you have made your way back to me. Are you in need of my assistance yet again?" he said, his deep voice laced with a chilling edge as he spoke.

He turned then, lifting a questioning brow at the boy standing in the doorway. "Ah wait, you went further the last time, did you not, to her, and now you are back. Did my warnings not predict this outcome?" He took a step forward then paused. "Tell me, did all go the way you wished?" He turned, his icy gaze on the boy, waiting.

"I do not know," young Milford said, his words barely audible. His small frame quaked in the doorway to his room.

"I warned you not to trust her. She is a deceptive girl. She lets envy and jealousy get in the way of what is right and wrong. He does not even want her. He never did, and yet, she will not relinquish her hold, even though it is not her hold to have." His words rushed from his mouth, revealing the truth as he spoke, but he could not lose the hope he had for her, even though he knew it was futile.

"What will happen to the girl?" young Milford asked, wringing his hands.

"The girl, she is gone," he said simply.

"She can not be gone. He is going madder as each day passes." Milford's body began to tremble even more than moments before. "I have to find her. There is no other option. Where do you think she went?" he asked, hoping he would give him the answer he needed.

"Think you she would magically appear, after the lengths you went to, to rid the Earth of her human existence?" he asked. He shook his head. "Tsk. Tsk."

Young Milford took a step forward, pleading. "I did not realize what I was doing. My ear was bent to the ranting of an evil, vile creature," he defended himself even though he knew deep down it was all his fault.

"And yet when I warned you, you chose not to heed my warning." Merlin turned away, dragging his fingers across the rough-hewn surface of his worktable. He grabbed a few herbs and tossed them into the kettle hanging over a pile of hot coals in the hearth. The concoction hissed and bubbled, spluttering white puffs of smoke into the air. He walked casually away, brushing his hands off as he strode towards the door.

"Please wait," young Milford begged, a sob tearing from his throat. Tears began to fill his eyes, stealing his sight. He was desperate. He needed to fix what he had done.

"Why should I?" he asked frankly, his commanding voice taking on an even sharper edge.

"Because I need you to help me. You are the only one powerful enough."

"Ah, now it is my power you seek?" he inquired darkly.

"I came to you before, but you turned me down," he said defensively.

"And look! Here you are, my little, silly friend." He swept his arm to the room at large. "You have returned to try to fix something that should have never come to pass in the first place." He crossed his arms and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "And now you want my help?"

"Yes, yes, I do. I am begging you to help me, please."

"What are you willing to sacrifice?" he asked.

"Sacrifice...? Anything, anything at all. I will go to any lengths to fix what I have done."

"So be it. It will be done," he said simply with a flick of his wrist, turning back towards the door.

"How long...?" young Milford asked, his lip quivering as tears streamed down his pale, dirty face.

"However long it takes."

"That is not good enough. I can not live forever," he argued desperately.

"Oh, my friend, in this instance, you can, and will. At least until your job is finished, even if it takes an eternity."

"Why can you not simply bring her back?" he probed, not fully understanding.

"It is not that simple."

"But you are so powerful," young Milford persisted.

He laughed at that, it had a bittersweet edge to it. "My foolish, little friend, even I am not that powerful."

♦

Milford's mind returned to the present. He felt a familiar sadness welling inside of his chest as a tear slipped from his eye. He dashed it away. He could not, would not, fail. He rose from the chair, crossed the room and opened the door. He knew what he needed to do.

# OUT OF SIGHT DOES NOT = OUT OF MIND

Ravenhurst

SEBASTIAN was back in the library, staring at the same stack of papers. Instead of taking care of them, he was contemplating the hand he was dealt. What in damnation could he do? There was something altogether unsettling about Marguerite's demeanor. She seemed so changed. It was almost as if she were another person altogether. He shook his head, wondering if the brandy he drank earlier was finally taking hold of his senses and making him addlepated.

He felt out of sorts, unsettled. What in the hell was the matter with him? Since when did some chit evoke this kind of reaction in him? No woman ever had this effect on him. He needed to get out of the house. He needed to be alone for a while. He laughed and ran his hand over his face. "What a ludicrous statement."

It would take days to run into someone in this estate if you chose not to. Regardless, he kept feeling a pull towards the upper floors. Maybe he should just check on her, make sure nothing was amiss.

He stood and walked halfway across the room before stopping himself. Make sure nothing was amiss. "Bloody Hell!" he swore to the empty room. She was the one who left him standing in the middle of the room, so close, but so far away, again. His pride balked. She had her chance, but she turned him down. That realization stung more than he wanted to admit.

# STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES

Ravenhurst

I WAS on the verge of putting my borrowed boots to good use and run back up the stairs. What in the hell had I been thinking? Oh, I knew what I was thinking. I had placed some kind of bent misconception on myself and somehow convinced myself I was some kind of super detective. A detective, I was not.

The further I descended the stairs, the air became even more chilled. The shawl I grabbed kept slipping. I pulled it back on my shoulders. Spiders and other nasty crawling things bounded away from the flickering candlelight. At least the light from above illuminated the stairwell a little.

As if on cue, the light from above disappeared completely as the secret door at the top of the stairs clicked shut. My teeth chattered.

Every bit of my bravado from earlier slipped steadily away. "Oh, why did I come down these damn stairs?" I never did this crap when I was younger. When I heard strange noises, I kept my ass in bed and covered my head until the morning came.

Now I was stuck. Of course, I did not think to stick something in the crack to keep the door from shutting. "Stupid!" I was just asking for something bad to happen to me.

An eerie sense of déjà vu crept over me.

In mid-step, I froze—trying to recall what was hovering just out of my grasp. Every bone in my body was telling me to get the hell outta dodge, screaming, run.

Literally forcing myself, I took another step. My foot landed on top of something, and I lost my balance. The full weight of my foot crushed whatever it was and it crunched loudly.

"Oh God!"

I had a terrible feeling, I may have just ended some poor creature's life as the tiny bones crushed under the weight of my body. Holding the candle aloft, I bit back sob of remorse and shook off whatever was stuck to the bottom of my shoe.

Thump... thump... thump... it rolled.

"Oh, good Lord!" That was all I needed... a rolling carcass. I covered my mouth. I refused to throw up. Taking another step, I finally landed at the bottom of the stairs.

The candle flickered as I lifted it higher in the air. A door was directly in front of me. I reached out and placed my hand on the cool metal handle. I didn't try to open it. I was afraid to. But what was the point of coming down here if not to open the door? "Oh hell!" I squeezed my eyes shut and twisted the handle. It was locked.

"Woo!" I cheered.

The candlelight flickered across the floor to the stone beneath my feet. I noticed there was something in the corner. Reaching down, I grabbed a piece of paper and held out it in front of the candle. It had a red wax seal. Was that a Raven? I broke the seal and pulled apart the paper. There was writing on it but I couldn't make it out in the dim light.

A shuffling noise came from the other side of the door. The candle flickered out.

I dropped the candle and finally put my borrowed boots to good use. I turned around and took my ass right back up the stairs as fast as my feet would carry me.

IN BETWEEN THERE AND NOW

He waited behind the closed door. He knew it was locked, but it did not stop him from walking forward when he heard her outside. He could see her in his mind's eye, her long hair flowing forward as she reached for the scroll on the floor. So she found it.

He cocked his head to the side, listening. She was running up the stairs to the door. He could hear her heart pounding frantically as she searched for a way out. He smiled to himself and flicked his wrist slightly in the air. The door in front of her opened.

She fell through it.

She jumped up.

Now she was singing... and... dancing.

He shook his head. Yes. She was an odd one. He blinked and the image of her faded from his mind.

♦

Another door creaked open from across the room.

He did not bother turning. He had been expecting him, after all. "Ah, I see you have come once again. To what do I owe this visit?" he asked even though he already knew what his visitor would say.

"She is not there yet."

"Oh I know," he said absently as he walked over to the shelves lined with ancient tomes. He pulled one out and looked at it briefly; then he pushed it back up on the shelf and pulled another out. He ran his long fingers over the top, feeling the hand-molded leather ripple under his skin.

He placed it gently on the rough-hewn worktable and opened it up. Light skittered across the lettering on the pages, illuminating the words he sought.

"So what should I do?"

"Wait," he said absently as he read.

"But what if she interferes?"

He lifted light gray eyes up and looked off in the distance, seeing a place that was not in the room, a time they were not in at present. His eyes focused back on the here and now. "Hmm, that is interesting. I guess we will not know until it happens."

"How can you be so calm about this? Everything hangs in the balance."

"What would be the point in worrying? It will turn out the way it was destined to."

"Are you sure?"

"Well... no, I am not sure. Some things need to be left to chance." He glanced back at the pages, and the words blurred before his eyes.

"Fate."

"What?" he said, trying to focus his eyes, but the words kept eluding him, just as she had done.

"Some things must be left to fate, not chance."

"Oh, right... Fate," he said absently.

"I will leave you to your work then. I thought you should know." He walked back out the way he came.

"I already knew," he said, barely audible even to his own ears. The door closed, taking the light from the room once more. He settled back into the chair behind him, propping his elbows up and rested his chin on his fingertips.

His body tingled.

It would seem the end was near, or was it another beginning. Yes, another beginning was better.

He chuckled lightly. Oh, what he would give to see her face when she realizes her little plan went awry!

Would she try again?

Images of the girl that tormented his soul eclipsed his mind. She was so unattainable, her amber eyes stealing his breath whenever he looked at her. He shook the image of her lovely face from his mind, feeling the familiar tightening in his chest. He let out a sigh.

It did not matter, she could try, but she would fail. Of that, he was certain. This time he would change fate, or be damned trying.

SALVATION

Radcliff Manor

GRAYSON Radcliff was an imposing man with a scar that started at his brow and continued down the side of his face, until it just barely touched the corner of his mouth. He was a loner by society's standards, but they accepted him as they did anyone with a title in what they viewed as an elitist group.

He knew they held him in disdain, but not one of the fools would ever dare give him the cut directly. Invitations piled up on the silver salver in the hall, requesting his attendance at long weekend parties and many soirees. They, as a group, did not like him, but that did not stop them from shoving their simpering daughters in his face with high hopes that one of them might end up wearing the shoes of a duchess. He wanted no part of their daughters and no part of marriage. Well, if he were to be honest, that had been the case, until recently.

Earlier in the Day – London Townhouse

Grayson climbed the stairs to the Townhouse he had rented for his Mistress. A few flurries of snow had already started to fall and he pulled the collar of his greatcoat up with one hand while holding a bundle of flowers in the other.

Normally he did not bother with such frivolities but it was a special day and he wanted to surprise her. He was not supposed to arrive until the following day. Turns out, he was the one who had gotten a surprise. When he walked in... Bliss was bent over a table while another titled lord (one he could not stand) slammed into her repeatedly from behind. She was wearing the peignoir he had given her, a light green, frothy confection. Her cries of pleasure filled the room as she neared climax.

Grayson stood there... watching. Her face flushed, her eyes closed in pleasure, her breasts swinging back and forth against the hard surface of the table.

It was obvious she was enjoying herself immensely. He tried to remember if she had ever reacted to his lovemaking with as much enthusiasm. He thought not.

She screamed out once more with her intense climax as her gaze caught his. Her expression of pleasure evaporated and was replaced by a look of pain as she watched her lover and protector walk from the room and out of her life forever.

♦

Grayson's mind came back to the present. Things had a way of turning out exactly as fate planned, he supposed. If his mistress had not betrayed him with that pathetic popinjay, he would not have left London when he did and his houseguest would surely have met a far worse fate than the one she had now. He walked slowly back to his room, his arms laden with food. The broth sloshed over the rim of the bowl onto the bread that he had prepared. His staff was not due back until the storm passed.

He was all alone with his winter princess and found he did not mind his current predicament, not one bit.

# SECOND THOUGHTS

Ravenhurst

DEVLIN made it to Ravenhurst, but was not sure why he went there. He should have been on a ship to a faraway place by now, but an unforeseen force pulled him back. He did not want to think about what or who was really behind his motives, not when he was about to make the final move to seal his fate. He paused and looked heavenward, contemplating what his next move would be.

A loud bang sounded behind him. He turned. A woman flew right past him, her long flowing cloak trailing out like wings behind her. The hood slipped, revealing a mass of dark hair that whipped around her head in the wind as she ran further out into the darkness of the night.

Devlin stared after her. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Surely not, he realized this must be a sign. The one from above, the one he was waiting for. He turned away from Ravenhurst, leaving its occupants and his good intentions behind. He followed the mystery woman into the darkness. He now had a new purpose.

# CAPTIVITY BE DAMNED

Radcliff Manor

ISABELLE was finished being a captive. She wondered what in the hell the world was coming to? First, she was stuck in her own cellar, thanks to her poor choice of a husband. She barely escaped, only to find herself now somewhere else entirely. At least she was warm and felt clean. That was something, she supposed. Which brought on another barrage of questions? How did she get clean? Why was she in a bed? And who took her and why? Surely, it was a man by the looks of the room she was in, a wealthy one at that.

She knew he could not be conspiring with Devlin, although Devlin was, in her mind, a sorry excuse for a human being. He would never willingly let another share his joy of keeping her captive without some word of derision from his trollop. No, her Devlin would be happy keeping her in the pits of hell as long as it served his loathsome purpose.

Isabelle knew she should be thankful for the respite, but this was getting utterly ridiculous. The way her luck was running, there was no end in sight either. She heard the door scraping against the floor and quickly closed her eyes, feigning sleep once more.

# PLANS GONE AWRY

Ravenhurst

"AHEM," Milford cleared his throat loudly as he entered the library.

"Yes," Sebastian sighed and tossed back the rest of his drink. "What do you want?"

"She is gone."

"Who is gone?" Sebastian looked over his shoulder at Milford and then it hit him. "How long?"

Milford shrugged his shoulders, it was the most non-committal answer he could give without lying outright.

"What are you waiting for, man? We have no time to dally!" Sebastian strode past him to the foyer and grabbed his coat.

Milford trailed behind slower than necessary. He did not want to leave the warmth of the house to search in vain outdoors on a fool's mission but he saw no other alternative. If Sebastian went to her room, which he would eventually, he would find the secret passage and unlike Katherine, he would break the door down and then all would have been for naught.

He could not see what was in that room, not yet at least. Accepting his fate, Milford donned his coat and followed Sebastian out into the cold dark night.

# TIME LAPSE

Ravenhurst

I FELL back into my borrowed room from the secret passageway. Using my butt, I pushed the wardrobe up against the wall and wedged the poker (I just realized I forgot) under one of the claw feet.

"Woo Hoo!" I did a little happy dance across the floor, thankful I was still in once piece. Something moved in my hair. I flipped my head upside down and batted it.

A large spider landed at my feet.

"Gross.!"

I stomped my foot down and the furry body crunched under my borrowed boot. I hated bugs, especially spiders. In case more spiders were lingering in my gown, I quickly pulled it over my head. A piece of paper fell from the folds. Leaning down, I picked it up. It was the one I found down in the pit. Barely legible handwriting was scrawled across the page. I tried to make it out.

"Find the key so she may return to me... I beg of you... please! "

# CAPTIVITY MAY NOT BE SO BAD

Radcliff Manor

ISABELLE quickly shut her eyes as her captor entered the room. She smelled food and her stomach groaned with hunger pangs. She was starving. The last time she ate was when Judith dumped her food on the floor. Bitch.

Peeking out from under her lashes, she watched a large man walk carefully into the room. He was holding a tray, or at least, trying to. As he slowly made his way over to a small table in front of the fire the dishes clattered loudly and the contents spilled over onto his hand.

"Bloody Hell!" He quickly set the tray down and blew on his fingers.

Isabelle smiled. She could not help herself. Her mind had conjured an entirely different image of her captor.

He turned.

Feigning sleep, she quickly shut her eyes.

When she heard him stoking the fire, she reopened her eyes. His face was not the fresh face of a young man barely beginning his life, but one of a man. He had light brown hair with a smattering of gray at the temples. It was full and curled up at the ends as it brushed against his collar. His jaw was strong, chiseled, with full lips. There was a jagged, reddish mark down the side of his face, marring the perfection of his strong profile. Instantly, anger flared within her. It was such a horrible injustice to mar a face so close to perfection.

Normally, Isabelle found herself drawn to younger men, ones who had yet to bloom fully. They were more pliable that way. She wondered if he too would be pliable... or was he the one in charge?

Looking at him now, stoking the fire with his shirtsleeves rolled up, she focused on his strong forearms and the way his muscles bunched under the back of his shirt. She could clearly see he was more of a take-charge kind of man. She let her gaze travel lower, watching him lean back onto his haunches, the muscles in his thighs straining against the fabric of his breeches. She saw quite clearly the fabric straining in another area as well. Goodness.

She was getting warmer just looking at him. She decided quickly her predicament was not as bad as she originally thought. Her situation could be worse...he could be some toothless heathen from the wilds. She was smart enough to see her blessings when they were placed before her. And this, she admitted, was one of them.

Isabelle admired any man who commanded attention, no matter where he was, and this man kneeling in front of the fire certainly did. Why she ever settled for Devlin was something she would need to write off as a very poor judgment call on her part. She closed her eyes tightly again as he rose to his feet. She could hear his heavy steps closing the distance between them. She dared not open her eyes, but could feel him standing right beside her.

Grayson lifted his hand and gently smoothed a wayward curl away from her face. He had thought she would have awakened by now. He glanced over at the tray he prepared for her and acknowledged it could wait. She really needed rest. He reached out and pulled the blankets up around her more making sure she was warm enough and then he leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead. "Sweetest of dreams to you, my winter princess."

Isabelle listened to his rich baritone voice; it was deep, strong, and very manly. She shivered inwardly, but not from the cold.

A few moments later when she heard the door close, she could not help smiling to herself. Perhaps she should thank Devlin for being the worst kind of wastrel, since the result seemed not to be such a bad thing after all.

# TOO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS

Ravenhurst

AFTER I bathed and washed my hair twice, and dressed in a simple gown, I sat down on one of the heavier shawls in front of the fire and combed the tangles from my hair as I stared at the parchment on the floor beside the amulet. I wondered what the note meant. Who wrote it? Was it the knight, or someone else?

Leaning forward, I tossed a few more small pieces of wood onto the fire. The necklace sparkled in the firelight. I picked it up and placed it in my lap. My fingertips grazed the stone and a jolt skittered along my arm.

Thick, swirling, white mist instantly clouded my mind, stealing my sight. Once my vision cleared, a scene appeared before me.

New York City – Present Day - Flash

A large bedroom came into focus. The girl with awesome clothes was lying in the middle of a huge bed with a tufted headboard, asleep. I knew now it had to be Marguerite. I tried to see what she was wearing this time. My eyes zeroed in; of course, she was in a sweet pair of silk pajamas. They were black and white polka dotted. I loved silk pajamas. They certainly beat the hell out of the little girl, flouncy gowns I was stuck wearing to bed.

Marguerite looked pretty, too.

I wished I looked that good sleeping. Marguerite rolled over and her long hair fanned out across one of the fluffy pillows on the bed. How was that even possible? Even her hair looked good while she slept. It was just not fair.

Disgusted, I turned my attention to the rest of the room. A flat screen television was at the bottom of the bed. A movie was playing on the screen. A thrill of excitement rushed through me. How I missed television, I adored a good movie. Up until recently, it had been about my only pastime. I focused my mind... hearing a shrill cry...

London East End 1888 - Flash

"White Chapel, another 'orrible murder!"

The picture became clearer.

A newsboy stood on the edge of a wet cobbled street, holding papers in his hand. Covered hansom cabs clamored by. The horses pulling them, barely missed the boy and splashed him with dirty water from the street. Shaking his small fist in the air, he cussed, then wiped the water the dirty from his face.

Gaslight lanterns hung from metal carriage hooks on poles that lined the street, each cast out yellowish hues. Prostitutes gathered under them bedecked in their tawdriest finery while others leaned against the walls of the buildings. A cloaked figure emerged from a darkened alleyway. Women called out to him, promising pleasures of their bodies in exchange for coin. The cloaked figure ignored them, pulling the brim of his top hat down low and his cloak collar higher.

He stopped under a gaslight, his face hidden from view. He pulled something from the bag he carried, a doctor's bag. It was a knife, the steel blade glinted under the streetlight.

Unwittingly, I held the amulet tightly as I willed my mind to see even more. It was one of my all-time favorite movies. I concentrated on the scene, ready to settle down and amuse myself for a while.

Another jolt coursed through my body and sent tingling sensations through me. Another flash of white stole my sight...

A door slammed. I jumped and my mind instantly returned back to the present. The necklace thudded onto the carpet as I stood and ran over to the door. I peered out around the corner. The hallway was dark and gloomy. The same way it always looked. I pulled back inside the door a bit and listened for any other sounds, but it was quiet as a tomb. The door made another eerie creaking noise as I pushed it back. It reminded me of a haunted house.

Walking back over to the fire, I sat down on the shawl and lifted back up the necklace. Immediately, another jolt coursed through my body, stealing my sight once more. I reopened my eyes in another time.

London East End, 1888 - Flash

Fog slowly rolled across a large body of water. A lone girl sat on the edge of an embankment. Boats creaked and bobbed as water pushed them back and forth against the dock of a waterfront. I caught a whiff of some foul odor. Was that from the river? Gross.

It must be the river Thames. I had heard it stunk, but this was terrible. Again, I heard the shrill cry of the small newsboy...

"White Chapel"...the rest was drowned out by foghorns blowing from some distant place on the water.

The girl came into focus again. Her face was buried in her knees and she was rocking back and forth... her arms wrapped around her legs. She lifted her head and appeared to be speaking to herself, her lips moved a mile a minute, but then she buried her face again into her legs.

Concentrating as hard as I could, I tried to make out the mumbled words, but a dull ache started to press out from behind my eyes.

"Please, please, please... take me out of this hell hole," the girl cried.

The girl's fear gripped me as I was pulled closer to the scene...

The caped figure appeared again. His boots made a scraping noise on the cobbled street as he walked towards the girl with a knife glinting in his hand.

Oh shit, was he going to kill her? I didn't remember this scene from the movie at all.

Then the girl lifted her head and I saw her face.

Shock and terror coursed through my body. The girl in the vision wasn't from a movie. It was Marguerite. She was still wearing her sweet, silk black and white polka dot pajamas, except now, she looked like death itself was stalking her.

I shut my eyes but the vision did not go away. It kept right on playing in my mind. "Run!" I yelled.

Marguerite looked up as if she heard me speak.

"RUN!" I yelled again. "He is going to kill you!"

Tears slid down Marguerite's face as she shook her head back and forth, but still did not move.

Now, I was getting pissed. What the hell? Was she an idiot? The least she could do was make a break for it. My mind raced and my breath hitched in my throat. Why wasn't she moving?

"Don't just sit there. Run!" I screamed once more. I couldn't believe it. What in the hell was going on? I pressed my mind and tried to envision the apartment again. The bed... the television... oh no, not the television... he was almost to her now...

I tried to picture the bed again... the black tufted headboard, the silver and blue damask comforter, the mirrored end tables, the silver lamps adorned with crystal prisms that dangled from underneath black silk shades...

Finally, after I felt like my head was going to explode, another jolt coursed through me, stealing my sight once more. I held the necklace so tightly, my hands hurt. Slowly, the pain ebbed from my mind as the white, swirling curtain of fog lifted once again and my vision cleared.

Marguerite was once more in the apartment. She was in the middle of the bed and sobs tore from her throat.

I dropped the necklace. It thudded onto the floor and I scrambled away from it, stumbling to stand. My entire body shook, and I felt sick to my stomach. I grabbed the towel and lifted the necklace. I ran across the room, pulled open the drawer, and tossed the necklace inside. The entire dresser shook as I kicked it shut and backed away.

"Holy Shit! I almost killed Marguerite."
THER PRICE OF LIES

Somewhere near Ravenhurst

MILFORD was freezing and he had no one but himself to blame for his discomfort. Had he the wherewithal to leave things as they were he would not have found himself in his current predicament. He shivered again and his teeth chattered so hard he thought they were going to pop out of his mouth at any moment.

Sebastian was relentless in his pursuit of Marguerite, who was not really Marguerite at all. Of course, Sebastian knew nothing about that at this time but Milford was sure it would dawn on him soon enough. He could not help but wonder what Sebastian would do when he found out? Would he still force her hand in marriage so he could get his hands on Ravenhurst?

Of course, there was a lot more to it than keeping his fortune but Sebastian did not know that, yet. He was just another pawn to be used in a much larger game that had started a very long time ago. Pulling his collar up, he let out a chattering sigh. The wind tugged at his hat. He pulled the brim back down and shook off his dark thoughts.

It was too soon to lose hope. All would work out. It simply had to. He owed Darias that much. Milford pulled back on the reins, slowing the animal down to round another sharp turn.

The snow was falling in earnest now. He could barely make out the dark outline of the ravine. He was afraid they would go too close. Hell, he could hardly see his horse's head. If Sebastian had not known the trail so well, they may have fallen to their deaths in that damnable hole from hell. It was the very same that Sebastian's father's life had ended in. Milford's body shuddered violently from another brutal gust of wind. He pulled his greatcoat back over his legs, hoping Sebastian gave up his search before they both froze to death.

Sebastian was not faring much better. He knew they needed to stop; it was getting too dangerous to continue. He was nearly frozen too, but he was reluctant to stop looking. He tried to tell himself it was simply because he did not want her escaping his grasp again before he got what he needed from her, which was a bride. But deep down he knew there was a bit more to it than that. The wind whipped his greatcoat back. He pulled on the length and recovered his frozen thighs. It would seem the only warmth he could bring into his body came from thoughts of Marguerite as his mind replayed every moment he had spent with her since she returned.

She was so changed, so different than he remembered. He thought of the way she smiled, how it reached up to her eyes. A rare smile lit his face as he thought of how she held her breath when he was near. How she responded to his kisses with such enthusiasm, warmth, and passion. A chuckle slipped out as he thought of how her deep blue eyes blazed with indignation when he told her he was leaving Ravenhurst to go to London after they were wed. No, she did not seem very pleased with that bit of information.

Hell, he thought she would have been ecstatic, but she was not. Actually, she seemed a bit put out, maybe even a bit sad by the news. So why did she leave him? An image of her expressive blue eyes flashed through his mind. Abruptly he pulled his mount to a halt. He lifted his hand and motioned for Milford to stop as well.

"Bloody Hell!" That can not be right. Once again, he envisioned her face. Her deep blue eyes....

"No, no, no! This can not be right." His mind shouted what his heart already knew.

Marguerite's eyes were not blue, nor did she have a freckle just above her brow. Nor had Marguerite ever made Sebastian insane with desire.... No, this woman, the one he was falling for...he shook his head, who in the hell was he kidding, had already fallen for, was not Marguerite at all. And if she was not Marguerite, then who in the hell was she? Why did she leave him just as Marguerite had? He closed his eyes against the storm raging outside and the one from within. Icy pellets of snow beat against his body as a feeling of desolation spread through him, snatching away all hope of ever finding true happiness.

JUST DESSERTS

Ravenhurst Dungeon

BLACKNESS surrounded him on all sides. The smell of death robbed the air of any freshness. Yes, Devlin Renquist was getting a good dose of his own medicine. By all accounts, he was stuck in some stinking hole without water or food, and both of his arms tied above his head.

There was something terribly wrong with his leg. It was bent in an awkward position. He just knew it was broken. Surprisingly, he did not feel the pain as he knew he should, which was a blessing in itself he supposed.

Had he not been so hell-bent on chasing after the woman, he may have kept some of his wits about him. But no, not Devlin. He was chasing a fantasy.

He remembered seeing Sebastian, the blasted do-gooder, and his man, Milford, running out of the front of the house towards the stables. At first, he thought they were following her as well. He was prepared to stop them if necessary. Obviously, she was fleeing from them both.

Devlin stayed in the shadows 'til they were out of sight. They were headed in the wrong direction. He did not correct them, either. He knew in which direction she had run and circled around the back of the house as well. He continued to look for the woman whom he thought at the time was Marguerite...what a mistake that was.

Unfortunately, the last thing he remembered was rounding the corner and entering Ravenhurst from a hidden door. He thought himself so clever at the time, so careful. He was wrong. He was hit with such force, he stumbled. He turned, shaken, not comprehending what was happening. His attacker walked closer, arm raised, ready to strike him again. He knew he should run, or at least put up some kind of fight, but he found he could not. The look in her eyes was his undoing. It froze him to his core. The woman was without a doubt quite simply... insane.

Splinters of pain shot through his body as he shuddered from the recollection. This time he welcomed the blackness when it took hold.

WHEN YOU OPEN THE WRONG DOOR

Ravenhurst

SINCE my last visions, I was super jumpy and with good reason, too. I was pretty sure I had almost, albeit inadvertently, gotten Marguerite killed—by Jack the Ripper, no less.

"What a horrific way to go." My body still trembled and my head pounded with a dull ache behind my eyes. I decided it would be in my best interest to leave the damn necklace hidden away in the drawer until I could talk to Milford about it. And boy, did he have some explaining to do.

Replaying the scene over in my mind, I rubbed my arms. "How can that even be possible?" Granted there were a lot of things recently that really couldn't be possible, but sending another person to the dregs of London with Jack the Ripper...that was really out there. And if I could really send people to their demises early, on a whim, wouldn't Milford have made it a point to give me the heads-up about that little piece of pertinent information?

No doubt about it. I was going to give him a ton of crap when I found him, but that was the hard part. I couldn't find him, Sebastian, or anyone else for that matter since I returned from the pit beneath my borrowed room. I had searched over an hour now and there was no sign of anyone. The house appeared to be completely empty.

I even tried the glass thing again and lifted it in the air for a refill, but that was a bust. Instead, I filled it myself. After the incident with Marguerite, I needed to take the edge off. I found I was doing that a lot lately but in my defense I had some pretty damn good reasons too.

As I looked for another live body, I carried my glass with me. But no matter how much I searched I couldn't find another living person and that wasn't even the worst part. I felt like I was being watched the entire time.

Now I was back where I started and I refilled my glass once more. I couldn't help wondering if I had somehow entered yet another dimension. Really, how long was I down in that freaking pit? Seriously, it couldn't have been that long. Granted, the house was humongous, but really, how could there not be one person in the house besides me? Goosebumps rose on my arms as my mind spun horrible scenarios...I was all alone in a big house....

Luckily, my stomach growled, stopping my freak-out. The need for food overrode my fear momentarily. I was starving. Grabbing up my glass off the table, I headed down the hall towards the back of the house where the kitchen was located. Maybe everyone was eating... right... "Or they were being eaten."

Having survived the kitchen creatures, I glumly walked back out of the kitchen. There was no food to speak of inside except a crappy biscuit. I took a bite. It was stale and hard. I tried to dunk the biscuit inside the glass to soften it up a bit, but the rim was too small.

A door slammed from somewhere and echoed through the hall.

"Damnit!" I looked down at the floor to where my biscuit was now residing and my stomach growled angrily. Maybe I should try the five-second rule and pick it up really fast? It couldn't be that dirty...

Another loud bang sounded behind me in the kitchens. I knew no one was in there since I just left. Screw the biscuit, I kicked it out of the way as I grabbed up my skirt and took off down the hall.

Full speed, I ran all the way back to the library, and skidded to a halt just inside the doors. Quickly, I slid them shut and turned the key.

"What the hell was that?" I looked down at my now-empty glass and set it on the table. Making my way over to the fireplace, I grabbed the poker. The embers of the fire were more black than red. Bending down, I threw in another log, jabbed at the coals inside and set the poker where it was easily reachable. What I really needed to do was calm down, but once again my mind was having none of that.

Granted it was just a door slam, probably from the wind...right...the wind. Oh, I knew I was being a chicken...again. Maybe it was Sebastian or a lone servant left behind? Of course, I did not see or hear any of them when I was calling out earlier, or when I searched the house. So if they weren't in the house, then who in the hell made the noise?

My skin prickled and my eyes instinctively went to the corner where the decanters were. They were filled with a hefty amount of liquid courage. I didn't even need to think about this one. Purposefully, I walked over, to the sideboard and poured myself a huge glass, and downed it, trying to kick-start my false sense of bravado.

After, I finished a glass off, I felt much better. My false sense of bravado was in high gear—so the alcohol was working. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my hair away from my face and pressed my shoulders back like a soldier ready to do battle. I marched across the library, opened the door, and kept right on marching down the hall, made a right, and clomped up another set of stairs. Once I made it to the top of the stairs however, my false sense of bravado started to dwindle. Apparently, fear was kicking liquid courage's ass.

Suits of armor lined either side of the hall. There was a tall window at the end. Each step I took sent my mind back to an alternate existence...to the future, when I was wandering about in this same place. I knew what I would find at the end.

Even though I didn't really want to go in the direction I was headed, I was pulled that way just the same. Stopping at the end of the hall, I shivered. It seemed to have gotten even colder than moments before. When I exhaled, my breath filled the air around my head like cigarette smoke. It was that cold.

The sound of my borrowed boots hitting the parquet tiles rang out in the darkness as I stepped through the archway and into the gallery. This time there was no music, nor the feeling of giddiness from too much champagne. No, this time I felt completely alone and really scared, and yet I still walked further inside.

"Oh my God, what is wrong with me?" Obviously, I had lost my freaking mind. I made it a point to stay away from the portraits, and instead, walked across the room to a door that was mostly hidden by a large curtain. There was a faint light coming from underneath.

Pulling the curtain away, my palms were suddenly damp, although it was freezing. I wiped them on the folds of my dress and turned the knob. The door swung open easily. I waffled on the threshold, not wanting to go in there and yet I took a step.

The room stunk and I covered my nose and mouth. I couldn't take a breath. The smell made me feel sick. It reminded me of something from my childhood. I hated the smell, and yet I kept right on walking into the room. "I must be crazy."

The room looked long forgotten. Large pieces of fabric covered the furniture, which really looked like sheets from a bed. The further I went into the room the smell did not seem nearly as bad as when I opened the door. Bending down, I lifted the edge of one of the sheets. Underneath were the gilded legs of several chairs and a sheet-music stand. To my left was a piano, its outline unmistakable under the fabric. Under another sheet, I found a harp.

Obviously, this was a music room. The ceiling was a domed ceiling, painted in light shades, depicting another gang of cherubs floating amidst the clouds.

"What is with these people?" I didn't know which were worse, the gargoyles or the fat-bellied cherubs. My gaze settled on a much larger object draped in yards of white fabric in the corner. My skin prickled and I forced myself forward, somehow needing to see what was under it. Taking a breath, I lifted the edge of the fabric, and yanked it off in one swift movement. I felt like a magician, except I wasn't saying Ta-Da. White, powdery dust floated in the air. I looked at what I'd uncovered. It was another painting. I gasped and wished I kept it covered. It was of a woman, her face horribly disfigured. My stomach clenched. How awful! "What sicko would paint something like that?"

My question was answered rather quickly; the woman in the painting smiled.

I was not able to process what I was seeing, and realized too late that it was not a painting at all, but a mirror.

The smile on the woman's face was not a welcoming smile either. It scared the hell out of me. Something glinted in her hand. An image of Jack the Ripper flashed in my mind. I turned around but I wasn't fast enough.

A searing pain shot through my head. I staggered forward. Warm blood slipped through my fingers and splattered onto the floral carpet, turning the little white flowers red. My body gave out and I crumpled to the floor. My last thought was of Sebastian...he would think I left him too.

REGRETS

Ravenhurst

SEBASTIAN, with Milford trailing behind, made it back to Ravenhurst before they both froze to death. He was still battling with the idea that Marguerite was not Marguerite. It was more of a feeling than an actuality. But if she was not Marguerite, who was she then? And why did she have such an uncanny resemblance to Marguerite? Could they be related? They had to be. But if so, why did she come to Ravenhurst pretending to be Marguerite? The only thing he seemed to know for certain was that she did not leave him of her own accord. He had no idea how he knew this. Perhaps his pride would not let him admit another woman had left him. Either way, whoever she was, he had to find her. He just had to.

Milford pushed open the front door, and dragged himself into the foyer, welcoming the warmth of the house. He peeled his coat from his body, shook the clumps of snow off, and hung it up to dry. Jerking on his gloves, he removed them from his frozen fingers and dropped them on the hall table. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he tried to blow the feeling back into them. His gaze slanted up the stairs. Something felt very wrong. He heard Sebastian enter the house behind him. Milford looked back over his shoulder at Sebastian as he removed his own coat and hat. Snow had painted his brows and the ends of his dark hair white. It hung in heavy clumps. Sebastian looked past Milford, up the stairs. Milford wondered if he felt it, too. She was not here. Oh, good Lord, what had he done?

Sebastian brushed past Milford and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He raced down the hall, his heart plummeting a little more with each step he took. He pushed on the door to her room; it slammed open, straining against its hinges. He walked inside. Shoes were all over the floor and a plaid gown was thrown over one of the wingback chairs. There was a small towel lying on the rug. He picked it up. It was damp. He looked in the bath. It was empty, but the floor still had pools of water on the tiles. He did not know why this surprised him. He had just gone out on a vain search to find her. But he had felt for sure she would be at Ravenhurst when he returned. But she really was gone. He felt it down to his bones. That simple fact did not stop him from looking in every room, just the same. It was another vain search.

Milford trailed behind him, looking for any signs of what may have befallen her. He even snuck away and looked in the room that was locked. She was not there either. She had vanished.

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS

Ravenhurst

THE following day, a gust of wind blew through the front doors of Ravenhurst as Isabelle swept into the foyer with Grayson right behind.

"Thank you," she said, smiling widely as she hurried past him to shut the door. Isabelle's body practically purred when he was near. They had been spending almost every waking moment together since he brought her back from her winter's slumber. Slow was not a word one would often find in Isabelle's vocabulary. Life was just too damn short.

Sebastian heard the commotion in the front hall and jumped from the chair he had been in since the evening before and ran to the doorway. He pulled up short. Rubbing his hands over his face, and groaned.

"Goodness dear, is that any way to treat your elusive Aunty?" Isabelle pulled a long, black, kidskin glove from her hand, one finger at a time. "I can guarantee if you knew what has happened to me lately, you would be wrapping your arms about me and thanking the heavens for my return."

Sebastian walked forward and dutifully gave his aunt a kiss on her cheek and a brief hug. She was chilled from the cold, reminding him of his own search not so long ago.

"My boy, what is it?" she questioned, sensing something was wrong. Leaning closer to his face, she reached forward and took his chin in her hand. "Tell me what is troubling you," she implored, releasing his face.

Sebastian ran his hand through his hair and then dropped it at his side. "She's gone," he said tonelessly.

"Who is gone?" Her brow creasing as dawning took hold. "You are speaking of Marguerite?"

"No, I wish I were," he answered despondently.

Her mouth dropped open. "My goodness Sebastian, what a terrible thing to say.... Take it back this instant," she warned.

He let out a breath. "Sorry, I did not mean it but I can not seem to help myself," he said, and then turned away and walked back into the library, falling back into the chair.

Grayson stood away, watching the entire exchange. It was obvious something was troubling the young man. He wondered what could be so dire.

Isabelle turned towards the door, spotting Milford coming down the stairs. Her dark blue velvet-riding ensemble made a gentle swishing sound on the rug as she walked back into the foyer. "Milford, dear, please tell me what has gotten into my nephew?" She tugged on her remaining glove.

Milford glanced in Sebastian's direction and then cleared his throat. "I think this may take a while. Would you care to join me in the kitchen for some tea?" he asked, noting the stunned look on Isabelle's face. "We decided to send the servants home to be with their families during the storm," he added quickly, explaining the staff's absence.

Isabelle frowned. Frankly, she was surprised by that statement. Normally, she would have said as much to Milford, but since Grayson had done the very same thing with his servants, she kept her opinions to herself. Besides, it had certainly worked out to her advantage with the servants gone. Her cheeks filled with color, thinking about how nice it was to be all alone in his big house. They could be as loud as they wanted and there were so many interesting places to have romantic interludes. "That is a wonderful idea," she gushed excitedly, remembering one of her and Grayson's previous interludes. It made her answer with more exuberance than necessary. "Oh goodness me, where are my manners?" She turned back toward the library. "Sebastian, may I introduce you to the Duke of Radcliff, Grayson. He owns the bordering property to yours and mine."

"Hello." Sebastian barely looked up, giving Grayson a brief nod of acknowledgement.

Milford pursed his lips in disapproval and straightened his waistcoat. He tried to be sympathetic but could not help rolling his eyes. "Shall we?" he inquired, extending his arms behind Isabelle and the Duke, herding them both from the room so Sebastian could mope in silence.

Once in the kitchen, he directed them to the table, and set about boiling water for tea and getting some biscuits from the larder. After he finished, he settled at the table, poured them each a cup of steaming tea, and relayed what had transpired thus far. He obviously left the largest parts out.

After he finished his tale, he stood up from the table, his fingertips pressed on the wood. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to check on something." Milford lifted his cup and saucer from the table and set it into the sink, then quickly rushed from the room.

"I wonder who lit a fire under his backside," Isabelle exclaimed, watching Milford exit the room.

Grayson smiled. "It did seem strange."

Isabelle shook her head, making her blonde curls dance. She brought her gaze back to Grayson. His hair was falling forward; he looked so devilishly handsome. She stood and walked behind his chair, wrapping her arms around his neck, and leaned into him from behind. "I can tell something is troubling you. What is on your mind?" she whispered into his ear.

Grayson turned towards her, looking thoughtful. "From what I have heard, it does not make sense that this woman, who may or may not be Marguerite, would have actually left the house. Why would she? If she is a stranger, not familiar with her surroundings, what purpose would it serve to leave the creature comforts this house has, and journey out into the elements."

"I do not know."

"It just doesn't make sense, unless she was desperate with no other alternatives or did someone drive her out?" Grayson said the last looking into Isabelle's lovely green eyes. They reminded him of emeralds. A few pieces of her blonde hair had fallen from her coiffure. Lifting his hand, he tucked a piece behind her ear. She smiled at him in such a way, all cohesive thought left his mind. He pulled her around the back of his chair and settled her onto his lap. She smiled at him with that insatiable look that drove him crazy. He groaned. It was a feral sound, coming from deep within as his mouth seized hers in a hungry kiss.

Isabelle kissed him back. She loved the way he took command of her body. What he demanded, she gave all too willingly. She was no shy miss. She was a woman. She deftly unfastened his breeches as Grayson lifted her gown out of the way and pulled aside her undergarments. His strong hands gripped her hips as he settled her in his lap. "Oh, yes..." she cried as Grayson slid his hands under her buttocks gripping them, and then thrust deeply inside.

"My God woman, where have you been all my life?" he murmured huskily, as his lips seized hers hungrily, using his tongue to tease, he licked one of her erogenous zones.

Isabelle moaned in response, not able to form a coherent thought. He filled her so completely, so perfectly, moving in and out of her body, moving faster, and then slowing down. He was driving her into a frenzy of wild abandon. "Next door to you...apparently," she panted out, and then gasped in pleasure as his lips found her taut nipple.

He laughed, not able to help himself. The sound vibrated his chest. "You are..." He trailed off and then groaned in satisfaction as she tightened around him. He went even deeper, and her body tensed around him even more as they both neared climax. Finally, with one last thrust he pushed them both quickly over the edge.

Grayson held onto Isabelle in the aftermath of their lovemaking, rubbing her back as their breathing returned to normal. He leaned forward, kissed Isabelle's forehead, and smoothed her hair away from her face.

Isabelle smiled and snuggled against his chest, wrapping her arms around him even more and then suddenly leaned back. "I am what?" she asked, a frown creasing her brow.

"Hmmm, I can not seem to recall."

Isabelle swatted at his chest playfully. "Yes you do. Now tell me what you were going to say," she insisted, giving him a wounded look.

He chuckled and then pulled her close and nuzzled her neck. "I was going to say that you are...absolutely perfect."

Isabelle pulled back and looked at his handsome face and trailed her finger down across the scar on the side. "Well I think you are absolutely perfect as well."

Grayson gave her a heavy lidded stare; his heart missed a beat with her sweet words.

Isabelle took his face in both of her hands and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"For saving my life."

"Now Isabelle, I told you..."

"Shhh," she said, and placed her finger on his lips. "I am serious, Grayson. You saved me from the worst possible predicament and instead turned it into some of the best moments of my life."

He gave her another genuine, heartwarming smile. "You have done the same for me as well," he said, with every bit of sincerity he was feeling.

Isabelle smiled at him, feeling very vulnerable suddenly and then wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders, nestling her head just below his chin.

Grayson closed his eyes and smiled, resting his chin on her head as he held on to her just as tightly. After a few moments of silence he said, "You know, someone may have taken her."

"Who, Marguerite?" Isabelle lifted her head a bit.

"Yes. But who and why, is the question we have to ask ourselves."

After a few moments of silence, they both looked at one another and in unison, said, "Devlin!"

"If he has her, he did not go far. He does not have enough upper body strength to carry her," Isabelle said, making a face. "Besides, there are a few hiding places within these very walls that Sebastian has no knowledge of. We should try those first." She stood, putting her skirts back in order. "That is, we should investigate after I freshen up a bit," she said, smiling at him like a smitten schoolgirl before turning and running off to do just that.

Grayson smiled to himself and refastened his breeches. He felt like a strapping lad, fresh from the schoolroom, enamored by his first crush.

Later, when Isabelle returned, she said nary a word. Instead, she crooked her finger at Grayson and beckoned him to follow.

Grayson chuckled and stood, gladly following her anywhere she wanted to go.

WITS END

Ravenhurst

SEBASTIAN sighed heavily and let the curtain slip from his grasp, the same as the mysterious girl had done. He shook his head at the irony of it all and threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling it back away from his face. He had already searched the house three times. He had hoped, no, he prayed there would be some clue as to her whereabouts but he found none. Now he was back in the library with no one but his thoughts for company. The inactivity was driving him to distraction. Would Ravenhurst ever belong to him or would it always be dangling just out of his reach? Just like his ever-elusive would-be bride. Now he had lost two would-be brides within a matter of months. Had he lost them or had they both run? Was he that terrible? Sebastian barked out a self-deprecating laugh. "It would seem so."

He dropped his hands and began to pace the room. Back and forth, he walked until he caught sight of Milford standing in the doorway. "I have been thinking Milford," Sebastian said coming to a halt in front of the library doors.

Milford eyed him warily, taking in his disheveled appearance and the slightly crazed look in his eye. "Yes, and what have you been thinking about, Sir?'

"I have been thinking about the girl who claims she is Marguerite, although I know she is not."

Milford schooled his features. "What?" he asked with just the right amount feigned surprise. "Surely you are mistaken. Who else could she be if not Marguerite?"

"I do not know who she is. I just know she is not Marguerite." Even if Marguerite were to run naked in front of him, she wasn't capable of making him insane with desire. While the mysterious girl could, with no more than a simple smile.

It did not make sense. Nothing made sense anymore.

Frankly, Milford was surprised to see that Sebastian was so astute. He did not think he would have figured out the differences between Marguerite and Katherine for quite some time. He did not think Sebastian was a dullard or anything remotely close. However, the man had been in a constant state of inebriation since Marguerite had vanished.

In fact, Milford had even begun to speculate that Sebastian must have cared a lot more for Marguerite than he originally let on, which was yet another complication in a long line of them. He noticed Sebastian staring at him with a peculiar look on his face. Milford cleared his throat and took on an authoritative posture. "Very well. Let us consider this for a moment, shall we? If she is not Marguerite, but another person pretending to be Marguerite, what possible purpose could it serve for her to do such a thing?" He wondered if this bit of information would help or hinder his cause. Time would tell, he supposed.

Sebastian did not know. If he had the answer to that question, he would not be so infuriated right now. "I know," he piped in. "We should go to Hawthorne and see if Devlin knows anything."

Milford shifted awkwardly; he did not expect that. His eyes widened. "What?" he asked incredulously, remembering all too well their futile attempts searching in the frigid weather the previous evening, "Are you sure we should leave? What if she returns and you are not here?" Milford asked, hoping he might change his mind. His damn toe was still frozen.

"I can not very well sit here and do nothing, man," Sebastian railed, and then began pacing once more.

The crazed look materialized in Sebastian's eyes once again, prompting Milford to concede. "You are right," he acknowledged, watching him cautiously. "Perhaps he can be of some help." Of course, Milford had serious doubts that would be the case, but refrained from saying so. It was obvious Sebastian needed a diversion.

WHAT IS BEHIND DOOR NUMBER THREE

Ravenhurst Dungeon

IT was so dark, I couldn't see. Instantly terrified, I sat up quickly. A sharp pain shot through my head. There was a terrible stink in the air. It smelled like something was decomposing. Where in the hell am I? For a moment, I thought I was down in the pit under my borrowed room but quickly came to the realization I was somewhere even worse.

An image of the room draped in white fabric flashed in my mind and then the hideous woman who attacked me with a knife.

Knife? "Oh no!" I ran my hands over my body, looking for any stab wounds but thankfully, I didn't feel any. I pushed my hair from my face and the tips of my fingers hit a sticky wetness. I poked at it with my finger.

"Ow!" I pulled my finger away. What did that crazy bitch do, stab me in my head? Was that even possible? Wouldn't my skull break the knife? Reaching up, I fingered my head, ignoring the sharp pain it caused. Luckily, whatever was done to my head didn't feel that deep and the bleeding had stopped even though my head hurt like hell. Of course, poking it with my finger wasn't helping.

The room had a closed, airless quality to it. Lifting my gown, I used it as a filter and tried to ward off a panic attack. If I didn't, I would start to hyperventilate and I knew I needed to focus to get my bearings so I could get out of here, fast. Crawling up to standing, my head smacked into something. It jangled above my head. I reached out and grabbed hold. Feeling it with my fingers, I tried to figure out what it was. My fingers slid through oblong holes, hooked together. It felt like metal.

"Okay, just a chain." A chain! What in the hell was a chain doing hanging from the ceiling. I cringed away from it and lowered back to the ground. "Think, think, think..."

Why would there be chains hanging from the ceiling? Of course, I automatically envisioned the worst possible scenario. My body shuddered and tears sprang to my eyes. Pulling my knees to my chest, I buried my face as an image of Marguerite doing the same thing flashed in my mind. The look of defeat and acceptance on her face. Reflexively, I reached for the necklace and then remembered I left it in the room.

Stupid!

Now I would have to figure out a way to get out of here on my own.

Well I wasn't good at accepting shitty hands dealt to me. I would not be a victim, I would figure a way out of this pit if it was the last thing I did and then immediately rejected that shortsighted thought. No, I was determined to get out of here and then beat that bitch to a pulp that shoved me down here.

Fine, maybe I would just run in the other direction. The woman had a crazy look in her eye and her disfigured face really freaked me out. But why did the woman hit me and then dump me down here? What did she want?

"For God sake..." Crazy people don't need reasons... they are just blissfully insane. Sorting through questions for which I could find no ready answer, I stopped thinking about it. It was useless anyway. This wasn't a movie, where the villain tells the captive why they are going to kill them. No, this wasn't a movie. It was apparently my delusional reality. I stood back up.

The ceiling was low so I couldn't stand fully, so I crouched back down and slowly, began to crawl across the floor. The ground felt like wet clay and moved slightly each time I brought my hands down. As I groped my way across the ground, I tried to convince myself it was only mud. My hand landed against something furry that caved and oozed under my fingers. I gagged. It smelled vile, like a rotting carcass.

Frantically, I wiped my hand on another part of the floor and it slid into something sticky this time. I coughed, fighting the urge to gag again. I wanted to scream, but had no idea where the crazy bitch was that attacked me, and I didn't want her to know I was awake. For all I knew, the Looney Tune dumped my body here because she thought I would rot just like the animal I smashed with my hand.

Picking up speed, I crawled further across the floor, away from the poor rotting animal's lifeless, tiny, decomposing body. At least I hoped that was what was decomposing and not something bigger.

Oh, no, if it were something bigger, what killed it? My body shuddered with fear and dread. Oh good Lord, I was going to pass out. I was halfway across the valley of dead and my head butted up against something hard. It moaned mournfully—like a ghost.

I fell backward onto the floor and kept right on moving until my body hit the wall. Barely breathing, I stayed perfectly still, terrified of making a noise. I wasn't sure how long I stayed glued to the wall but my voice of reason finally made an appearance. What I heard at least sounded human and a human right now was better than all the dead animals. "Hello," I called out just to see if someone would answer me.

Devlin jerked his head in the direction of the voice, which immediately sent a ripple of pain through his body. His jaw tensed but he kept quiet. He had been hearing too many voices since he was brought to this place. They were all mad. He heard the faint voice again. At least this voice sounded sane. "Hello," he finally answered. His voice came out as more of a moan than a reply.

Relief flooded me. At least, I wasn't alone. "Who are you?"

Devlin dropped his head forward, his chin touching his chest. Thank God, he was not alone. "I am Devlin Renquist, the Lord of Hawthorne Manor," he said, biting back another wave of pain that splintered up his leg.

"Are you all right?" I asked, speaking louder this time.

Devlin gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain. "No. I do not believe I am all right. I think I may have a broken leg."

Crap. I quickly remembered who he was. Oh freaking perfect. This was just getting better and better. I could only hope I was wrong about him. Maybe he wasn't that bad. At least he was better than the Lizzie Borden bitch.

"Are you still there?" he asked, sounding desperate to his own ears. "Great," he laughed; it was a hollow, emotionless sound. "Now I am going quite mad as well," he mumbled bitterly to the darkness. "It would serve you right, Devlin," he said darkly to himself, and then began laughing even harder.

Shit. Poor guy. He sounded crazy. I couldn't blame him; I had only been awake in this disgusting pit for a few minutes, and I found I was starting to freak out as well. I felt even worse when he started to cry and laugh at the same time. I couldn't take it. He may have given me the creeps before, but obviously, he was hurt and scared. "Devlin, please stop. You are not crazy. I am here with you. You are not imagining me."

Devlin stopped sob-laughing. "Are you really here?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, unfortunately I am," I said, and then sighed. "How could I not be?" I grumbled. "It seems I am as stuck as you are."

"You poor dear, are you chained as well?" he asked, reaching up and tugging on the chains above his head, making them jangle loudly.

"Chained?" Why was he chained? What was Crazy afraid of?

"Yes, I am chained. My arms are above my head and I have lost all feeling in them," he complained.

Perfect. "I am on my way, so keep talking, okay?"

"You must be an angel," he said in a faraway voice.

I laughed, I couldn't help it. "Oh no, I am no angel." Far from it.

"Who are you?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation going to keep his mind off the pain in his leg.

"Um...I am, ah...Marguerite," I lied.

He was quiet a moment. "You are not Marguerite."

I skidded to a halt. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I know you are not Marguerite."

"How would you know that?" I asked. Sebastian, my so-called betrothed, had no idea I wasn't Marguerite, so how would he? "Did you do something to her?" I asked, really not expecting him to answer.

"Not recently," he said with an audible sigh. Why should he lie? It would all be out in the open soon enough. And if he died here, he wanted a clear conscience.

"What do you mean... not recently?" I was almost afraid to hear what he would say.

"I promise to tell you if you answer two questions for me."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, contemplating what he asked. Well hell, what could it hurt? "Okay."

"Who are you, really?" he asked, surprised she did not deny him.

Well, wasn't this just peachy? I continued to pick my way over towards the sound of his voice. Why should I lie, there was really nothing to lose at this point. Besides, I was tired of keeping secrets. I was never good at it anyway. For once, I was thankful for the darkness, it would be easier to tell the truth if I didn't have to see his face afterwards. "Here goes nothing." I took a breath. "My name is Katherine Nicole Jamison."

"I knew it," he whooped loudly and the action caused his body to move. "Gah," he groaned in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes and no," he answered indecisively.

"So which is it Devlin?" I was getting close.

He chuckled at that and then sucked in his breath as another wave of pain assailed him. "I am fine," he lied.

"Okay." I didn't believe him but decided to keep his mind on something other than the pain he was obviously in. "So, how did you know I am not Marguerite?"

"I am not sure really, the resemblance you have for one another is uncanny but there are distinct differences as well. Needless to say it did not take me very long to figure it out."

Well, he sounded quite pleased with himself; maybe I should really blow his mind and tell him I was from the future, here to fix a wrong done to some knight. On second thought, maybe not, since I didn't even know what I was doing here, really, so telling him wouldn't be as mind-blowing as I would have wanted. "So what landed you in this pit?" I moved closer. He was silent so long I thought he might have passed out again.

Devlin finally answered. "My arrogance, I suppose." He paused a moment and then asked a question of his own, "How about you? The do-gooder toss you down here?"

"No!" I snapped.

He chuckled, suddenly amused. "A man could hope."

"What's with you two, anyway?" My head rammed into his gut. "Oh God, sorry." I lifted my hands and tried to hold his swaying body in place.

"I am all right." Devlin bit back another wave of pain.

"You do not sound all right."

"Well, I am as good as can be expected under the circumstances."

"There is that," I agreed. "Okay, so this will hurt so...ah..."

"Just do it...please."

"Here goes nothing." I stood up, reached out, and missed. "Damn."

"What's the matter?"

"I can not find your hands. Hold on a sec." I moved forward and hit him full on. "Oh God, sorry!"

Devlin was not sure how long he would be able to bear her attempts at rescue. His jaw tensed. "It is fine, try again."

"Okay, but I am sure this will hurt a bit."

"I am sure it will too," Devlin readily agreed, laughing lightly even though he was in pain.

"Smarty Pants," I said, but smiled into the darkness. At least he had a sense of humor. I ran my hands up his chest and followed his arm up to one of the restraints.

Devlin closed his eyes again and let his head fall against the soft curve of her breast.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," he said, but still did not move.

Diligently, I worked on the screws to the cuffs, ignoring his face mushed up against my right boob. "You know, you never did answer me before."

"What was the question?"

"What is with you and Sebastian?"

"Oh, that."

"Why do you say it like that?" I unhinged one of his hands and draped it over my shoulder. "Just a couple more minutes and I will have you out of this."

"All right," he said and nodded.

"Well," I prompted when he fell silent.

"That is a long story."

"It looks like we have some time."

"Maybe you could ask me another question."

I wanted the answer to that one but asked another anyway. "So what is your deal, what are you about."

"Pardon?" he asked, sounding bewildered.

Oh crap, I forgot he was a Victorian. "I guess I mean who are you, really, down deep and why?" I asked, not sure if he would get what I was trying to ask.

"Another difficult question." He sighed heavily. "I suppose I am never satisfied."

"Why's that?"

"I find I am always looking for something that is just out of reach," he said with sincerity, realizing suddenly how true it was. "What are you doing with Sebastian?" he asked, sounding bewildered by the concept.

I laughed at that, even though it was not funny. Why was I with Sebastian? Um, maybe it was because I had no choice. Maybe it was because I needed to fix this thing for the knight. But I couldn't bring myself to say either. Instead, I said what I felt. "I belong with him," I said, just now realizing how true it was.

Devlin felt his chest tighten in response to her words. He did not know why, he had only just met her.

"It is your turn to tell me something again."

"I will try."

"How did you know I was not Marguerite?"

He laughed. It was a short, brittle sound. "Oh, it was just a feeling, really. You two may look alike, but there are very distinct things about you that differ from her. And of course, you confirmed what I already suspected. Does he even realize you are not Marguerite?" The disdain he felt for Sebastian was evident in his voice.

I thought about that for a moment and then shrugged. "I guess not."

He laughed. "I knew it."

I froze, remembering how Sebastian called me Marguerite and remembering how I ran away. I sighed and began working the screws again. "What did you know?"

Devlin noticed her tone. "Pray forgive me, Katherine, I did not mean to upset you."

"Well, you are right. He has no idea I am not this Marguerite girl.

"You know, Katherine, you must be related to Marguerite," Devlin said offhandedly.

"Why is that?" I asked, curious.

"You two are very much alike, and not only in looks."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Let me guess, we are both in love with Sebastian?" I deadpanned and then instantly cringed. I couldn't believe I just said that.

Devlin sucked in his breath. That hurt and it had nothing to do with his leg. "No, I believe you are the only one who has those feelings towards the do-gooder."

"What then?"

"You are both indisputably unavailable."

My heart lurched a bit from the sadness behind his words. I finished releasing his arms. He fell forward against me and pushed me back to the ground. He was dead weight. I tried to push him off, but couldn't budge him. He was heavier than he looked.

"Are you all right," Devlin asked as he pushed himself up so he would not crush her with his weight.

"Yeah, I'm good," I squeaked out, feeling his body press against my own. His face hovered above mine, and for a brief moment, I wondered what his lips would feel like pressed against my own.

Devlin knew he could take advantage of the situation. He noticed she was not protesting and normally would have tested the waters, but after a few moments' deliberation, he decided he did not want to, at least not like this. He eased off her slowly, moaning in pain. He hated to admit to himself that it probably had more to do with his heart than his leg.

"Are you okay?" I leaned over him.

"Now I am," he said laughingly.

I moved away quickly. "Are you always such a pig?"

"Pig as in the animal? Or pig as in wastrel?" he replied, smiling to himself.

"I guess wastrel."

"I believe I am. A wastrel, that is," he said with conviction.

Well, at least he was honest; I had to give him that much. "Can you move?"

"Not well, why?"

"We need to get out of here." Since my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I was finally able to see a faint light off in the distance.

"You should go ahead without me." He pushed himself up to a sitting position and leaned back to readjust himself so his weight wasn't on his bad leg as much.

"I will not!" I snapped.

Devlin smiled in the darkness. Perhaps there was some redemption left for him after all. "Well, if you are going to take that tone with me, your wish is my command."

"You have a smart mouth, you know that?"

"So I have been told," he said, not elaborating on what else he had been told his mouth was good for. "Thank you."

"For what?" I tried stand once more and frankly, was surprised that I was able to without hitting something with my head. Leaning down, I grabbed him under his arms. "I am going to pull you up."

Devlin staggered up and hopped on one foot, gritting his teeth. "I am all right," he breathed out past a wave of pain.

"Who did this to you?"

"I am not sure who it was," he said, fighting the pain. "There may have been more than one of them," he added in a stilted voice. "I could swear earlier, when I was coming in and out of consciousness, there were two people arguing with one another." He lowered his voice. "They sounded insane."

I shivered. I didn't know what crazy sounded like, but I sure as hell knew firsthand what crazy looked like.

Devlin reached forward, and pulled her into his embrace and hugged her briefly.

His hug surprised me and not in a bad way either. Exhausted, I rested my face against his muscled chest, letting him hold me. He was tall, and muscular like Sebastian, but not as broad. The top of my head barely reached his shoulder. An awkward silence filled the charged air between us.

"We better get while the getting is good, right?" He slowly disentangled his arms.

"Yeah..." I stepped forward and wrapped my arm around his waist as I tried to hold up most of his weight as we made our way towards the light.

DESPERATE MEASURES

Hawthorn Manor Estate Grounds

THE two riders were perfectly silhouetted in the afternoon sun as they approached Hawthorne Manor. If Sebastian were not in such a hurry, he would have stopped for a moment to admire its beauty. It was built during the Greek revival period. He always appreciated the simplicity of this house, with its understated elegance. Ravenhurst was the opposite: huge and imposing. It seemed to him even garish at times. Especially with its gargoyles sneering down upon everyone who entered its massive doors.

Yes, this house was much more to his liking. Out back, behind the house, there was a lovely garden and the remnants of a cookhouse with a cellar underneath. It burned down at some point through the years, but he could not remember when.

The only thing that remained was the staircase leading under the ground, with a small cellar that was still used to store potatoes and such.

Sebastian reined his horse in and dismounted quickly. He ran up the front steps, lifted the knocker and slamming it down, he waited.

There was no answer.

He lifted his fist and pounded on the door harder, then tried the handle. It was locked. He looked up at the windows. "Hello!" he called out.

Still, no one answered.

The hopelessness of the situation began to close in on him. Suddenly he could not catch a breath. He felt like he was suffocating. He ran his gloved hands over his face and leaned against the door. What was he to do now? He had no other ideas.

Milford adjusted his seat, watching Sebastian struggle with his inner demons. He had never seen him so despondent, not even when Marguerite vanished. At the time, he seemed almost relieved she was gone. That entire situation never did set too well with Milford. And even though he did feel Sebastian deserved this in a way, especially for the callous manner in which he treated Marguerite, he could not help trying to alleviate some of his obvious distress. So without thinking, he blurted out, "Perhaps we should check the trail near the ravine again?"

Suddenly there was a spark of hope in Sebastian's eyes once more. "Yes, you are right Milford. That would make sense. We will be able to see more clearly, especially now that the storm has passed." He trotted back down the stairs, took his horse from Milford, and easily swung up into the saddle. He gave the horse a gentle squeeze with his thighs and clicked his tongue. The horse took off.

Milford followed his lead, regretting his decision as soon as they were off.

As the sun sank further into the horizon, dark shadows loomed in front of them, darkening further the closer they came to the precipice of the dreaded ravine. Sebastian dismounted at the highest point, anchoring his horse's reins around a boulder and skated down towards the edge. He slid into a large rock that jutted up from the top. It was impossible to see the bottom of the ravine from this vantage point. Shaking out the snow from his greatcoat he walked back towards Milford, his boots crunching loudly on the crust of the snow as he struggled to remain upright.

Milford let out the pent-up breath he had been holding. He was relieved Sebastian had made it back in one piece. Now they could get the hell out of here and go back home. He envisioned a nice steaming cup of tea and one of cook's biscuits he had stashed away in the larder. His fantasy was short lived.

"Milford, I know what must be done," Sebastian said as he grabbed a rope from his saddle.

Milford quirked a brow at him in question. "Wh..." he swallowed hard, and then finished his sentence, "What must be done?"

"You will have to look over the edge."

Milford nearly toppled from his horse in shock. "WH—Why me?" he stammered out.

"There is no other way," Sebastian, said, ignoring Milford's horrified expression. "It is just too slippery. If I try it alone, I may fall," he said as if stating the obvious.

Milford's eyes widened. "What, pray tell, is going to stop me from falling?" he asked indignantly.

"I will hold your feet," he replied easily looping the rope around his arm.

"Hold my feet!" Milford squeaked loudly. "How will we not both fall in?" he said, his voice rising higher on each word. "And why can I not hold your feet?" he asked in a huff of air.

Sebastian frowned at him. "I am stronger than you," he said with a definitive tone, putting an end to any discussion on the subject. He walked the rest of the way up to his horse, looped part of the rope through the saddle, and then turned back towards Milford. "See, we will be tied to the horse," he said as he held the rope aloft.

"What if the horse slips as well?" Milford hedged.

Sebastian shook his head. "Do not be ridiculous, man. Now let us not dally. We are running out of light."

Milford was sick to his stomach, but he dismounted and followed Sebastian down to the ledge just the same, slipping and sliding the entire time.

"Now lay on your stomach and I will brace myself back here while you lean over the edge."

"How are you to stop me from falling in?" he asked nervously, feeling faint.

"I will be holding on to your boots."

"WH-what if they fall off my feet, they are not the best fit you know? Wait, I have a tighter pair back..." Milford never got to finish the sentence, Sebastian cut him off.

"They won't."

"How do you know?" Milford asked anxiously.

"I just know. Now come on man, we are losing the light," he repeated.

"Well, I may be losing my life, so forgive me for dawdling," Milford said, with a disgruntled tone.

Sebastian sighed heavily. "You know, you may have missed your calling...you could have been an actor. I had no idea you were so melodramatic."

Milford narrowed his eyes with indignation. "Easy for you to say," he mumbled angrily under his breath but lay down on his stomach anyway. He looked back at Sebastian. "You do have a good hold on me, correct?"

"Yes, Milford," Sebastian sighed again.

Milford closed his eyes and said a silent prayer.

Sebastian pulled on the rope, checking the tautness and then tied it around his waist. Satisfied it was secure...he grabbed hold of Milford's ankles and began to push him forward on the ice towards the edge.

A LIGHT AT THE END OF A TUNNEL

Ravenhurst Dungeon

ESCAPE was in our sight. There was a light in the distance. That had to be the way out. Devlin's injury made our progress slow, but I refused to leave him behind. I heard a noise and stopped abruptly.

Devlin's step faltered and he stifled a groan of pain.

"Someone is coming," I whispered hotly in his ear as I steadied him.

Devlin grabbed hold of my shoulders and tried to push me back. "Stop!"

"I will not. They are crazy. I will divert them so you may run," Devlin argued.

"I am not leaving you here."

"Yes, you must. You can get help," he urged.

"I said I am not leaving you, so just get over it already."

He tried to push me behind him.

Even though he was hurt, he was still too strong. I gave up trying to overpower him and did the only thing I could think of to silence him. I grabbed his face, and kissed him soundly on the lips.

Devlin was stunned at first but quickly acclimated himself to the change of circumstance. He pressed his own lips more firmly against hers, kissing her back as he gathered her pliable body closer to his own. His tongue teased her lips until she opened her mouth for him. He delved deeper, tasting her sweetness, savoring the moment.

A shadow raced past the entrance before disappearing farther down the passageway.

The kiss was soft, sweet...absolutely perfect. Devlin pulled away.

Dazed, I opened my eyes. I completely forgot what we were even doing. I almost ducked back in for another kiss before remembering where we were. The kiss was not what I expected in the least. He was no Sebastian, but he did have something. That thought left me unnerved.

"Sorry," I whispered lamely.

"No problem," he whispered back.

"I needed you to be quiet, so do not think there was anything to that, okay?"

"I know," he said, but smiled into the darkness nonetheless.

Leaning back against him, I put my arm around his waist. We only made it a few steps when I stopped abruptly.

Devlin groaned once more, it was barely audible.

I cringed, hating I was causing him undue pain. Two distinct voices echoed in the darkened tunnel. Devlin was right. I reached down and felt around for anything to use as a weapon. My hand touched a rock and I picked it up.

Devlin was in too much pain to fight her this time.

I pressed back against the wall until I saw the flickering torchlight pass just enough, and then I struck out with the rock with all my might. Whatever I hit fell to the ground.

Someone screamed.

I jumped back against Devlin.

"Bloody Hell," Devlin moaned, in agony once more.

"Devlin, I am so sorry," I whispered. He squeezed my hand.

I peeked around the corner. A woman was bent over a man, sobbing, and uttering sweet words to him as she brushed his hair away from his face.

My stomach clenched at the sight. Oh, what had I done? It wasn't the Looney tune from earlier; no, this was someone altogether different.

Devlin pushed past the pain in his leg, and leaned forward, trying to see around Katherine as he listened to someone sobbing uncontrollably and proclaiming love and devotion to the room at large. How did he know that voice? Dawning hit him like a ton of bricks. Bloody Hell it was Isabelle! The 'why' of what she was doing down here was not something he wanted to ponder at the moment. He was getting an earful of her declarations of love for whoever was in her lap.

Good Lord, that was quick. Was she not just saying the same to him? She was certainly a capricious wench. Then he remembered that was before he locked her down in her cellar. Apparently, that did not slow her much though. He leaned against the back of Katherine and peered around her shoulder, watching Isabelle coddle the man in her lap. He rolled his eyes. "My God, woman, leave off. The man is not dead."

Isabelle gasped in surprise. "Devlin!" she narrowed her eyes. "You fiend! What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"May I say the same to you?" he asked smartly.

Isabelle finally noticed the girl beside Devlin. "Marguerite, dear child, what are you doing with him?" she asked acerbically. "I hope you know Sebastian is insane with worry. And here you are with him. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"My God, Isabelle, there you go again. Blathering on and on about that blasted do-gooder. Where is he, Isabelle, if he is so worried about her? Let me guess...he is in his library trying to drink himself into a stupor. Has he finished his brandy then? And moved on to his scotch?" Devlin asked, his ire rising.

Isabelle gasped. "Devlin, you know that is a horrible thing to say about Sebastian."

"Well it is true. That is what he does. Blames everyone but himself...the poor, tortured soul," Devlin said mockingly. "And this is not Marguerite, Isabelle," he added for good measure.

"Devlin, you are such a liar. I know Marguerite. I am looking at her right now. What game are you playing?"

"Look again, Isabelle. Obviously, your eyes are not what they once were, when you were younger. But of course, I would not know about that, would I?" he scathed.

Isabelle visibly flinched. Devlin's sarcasm hit its intended mark. She ignored him. "So that is the way of it then. You are with him now?" she questioned accusingly.

I watched her look me up and down, like Amelia had done, except her expression revealed a bit more loathing. At first, I didn't know what to say. Listening to the woman and Devlin argue as though they knew one another intimately and then she turned her vehemence on me. It took a moment but I finally found my voice, buried somewhere under a pile of apprehension and shock.

"No, I am not with him," I defended. "He is hurt. We were escaping."

Isabelle looked doubtful. "Ridiculous. There is no one down here. Why are you lying for him?"

Devlin rubbed his forehead. "Isabelle, do you truly think we would be down here had that not been the case?"

"Well, with you, Devlin, one never knows," she snapped. "You did lock me in my own cellar. And if she is not Marguerite, as you say, then what did you and Judith do with her?"

"Who is Judith?" I asked, looking back and forth between the two. Neither seemed to hear me, they were too busy arguing with one another.

Isabelle kept on. "Where is your trollop, Devlin?" Isabelle seethed. "Oh my, Devlin, did your little whore lock you down here?" She laughed. "Now, that would certainly be poetic justice. You do so readily deserve that and more, you know?" Isabelle glared up at them both.

Sebastian was looking for me. My stomach flipped at the thought. I didn't know what to make of the conversation with the woman called Isabelle, or Devlin for that matter. I was obviously out of some giant loop, which was fine with me. I had enough to deal with but when they kept arguing, I lost it. "Are you two kidding me with this? Your leg is broken." I pointed down at Devlin's leg. "And you..." I glared at the woman named Isabelle. "The man you apparently love is passed out, bleeding. We're still stuck in a pit, and if you are not the ones that put us here, then there is still someone out there who did." They both stared at me like reprimanded children.

Devlin felt the truth of her words weighing down upon him. "You are right," he sighed. "Isabelle, I deserve everything you have said and more." He looked at her imploringly, hoping she could see how sorry he was. "I am sorry, Isabelle. I do hope someday you will be able to forgive me," he said with sincerity. He took a deep breath, and for once, the constant tightness in his chest subsided a little.

Isabelle turned her head away and wiped a stray tear from her face. She was quiet for a moment. If he had not put her in the cellar, she would have never run off into the night. Nor would she have ever met Grayson. Could she find forgiveness in that? She looked at Grayson once more, her heart nearly bursting with love. She took an unsteady breath. "I may not be able to forgive you for all you have done, but I will call a truce for now. Is that acceptable?"

Devlin could not believe it. She did not hate him, or think he was a monster. All the contempt he felt for her began to disappear. He only just now realized how angry he was at her for the way she treated him. "Of course, it is all right," he supplied eagerly. "A truce then?"

"A truce...for now," she agreed.

"I will take it," he smiled meekly at Isabelle.

"Great, now that you two have cleared the air, why don't we get the hell out of here while we still can?"

Isabelle leaned over Grayson as he started waking, moaning softly. She lifted her hand and caressed his brow. "I am going to get you out of here. Can you stand my love?" she said, leaning down, cradling his face in her hands before she kissed him lightly where his brow furrowed.

I could hear Devlin mumbling and elbowed him gently in his stomach.

He gasped in mock horror and I turned around. Our eyes met and for a breathless moment and everything else fell away.

"I could use some help," Isabelle called out from behind, breaking the spell.

I gave Devlin a small smile. "Can you stand alone for a moment?"

He smiled back. "Of course, go on; help her please, before she starts screaming." He rolled his eyes and inflated his cheeks, making a face.

"You..." I said laughingly and then stepped forward to help Isabelle.

Then we all headed out of the hellhole and into the light.

IF LOOKS COULD KILL

The Dreaded Ravine

SEBASTIAN pulled Milford back from the edge.

"I told you there was no one down there!" Milford seethed, brushing snow from his greatcoat and jerking it back in place.

Sebastian leaned over and braced his hands on his knees, pulling large gulps of air into his lungs. "I had to be sure she was not down there."

Milford gave him a sidelong glare, not really sure what all the heavy breathing was about. He was not that damn heavy. Even if he was, it was not his fault...well, at least not completely. He did suggest they check for her at the ravine. However, he thought it would be a simple ride, and once Sebastian was satisfied the girl was not there they could turn around and go back to Ravenhurst.

Sebastian was overcome with relief at not finding her in the ravine... He did not know what he expected. In his heart, he had already given up hope. What did that say about him? Was he so afraid of being hurt that he would readily conjure up such dark thoughts? Would he truly rather kill her off in his mind than to have her leave him of her own accord? He looked across the horizon. In another hour, the light would be gone from the sky, completely replaced by darkness. He found the same effect was happening within himself. He straightened and turned away from the ravine, walking back towards his horse. He bent down, untied the rope from the boulder, and fastened it back to his saddle. He looked over his shoulder at Milford. "Come on man, the light is fading fast and everything will begin to freeze again."

Milford opened his mouth and shut it again. What was the point? He climbed up the steep incline, purposefully digging his heels into the snow with each step he took back to his mount so he would not slide back into the pit from hell he had just been hanging over. He climbed up on his horse and shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.

"Comfortable?" Sebastian asked acerbically.

Milford glared at him. "No, I am not." He fought the urge not to roll his eyes, and then clicked his reins, following Sebastian back to Ravenhurst.

ARE YOU HAPPY TO SEE ME

Ravenhurst

THE hidden door groaned in protest as we shoved our way back into Ravenhurst's formidable walls.

I was so relieved to be out of the pit, I nearly fell down on my knees and kissed the floor.

Of course, I couldn't since I was holding Devlin up. The house was stoically silent as we made our way through the kitchen, down the hall, and finally ended up in the library where I managed to get Devlin situated on the settee.

"He needs his leg set soon." Grayson nodded his head towards Devlin.

"Who is going to do that?" I asked.

"I have some experience with that sort of thing from my time in the military. I can do it."

"Not before I tend your wounds," Isabelle cut in.

"Your wish is my command." Grayson smiled at her warmly and extended his hand.

Isabelle reached out, clasped his hand, and then led Grayson off to the kitchen to take care of his head.

I watched them leave the room and smiled. It was hard to believe they were not man and wife. They seemed so perfect for one another.

Walking across the room to the sideboard, I lifted the bottle and poured a hefty amount of Sebastian's brandy in a glass. I glanced over at Devlin; he had his eyes shut and his head pushed back on the cushions. Lifting the drink, I downed it in one gulp. The burn felt good this time.

Instinctively, my eyes found their way back to Devlin. He looked so young suddenly. His sandy-blonde hair had fallen back from his face and revealed his profile. Dark lashes were in contrast to his pale complexion and cast shadows across his cheeks. Now I knew firsthand that although he was thin, he also had muscle. His chest rose and fell with his breathing and as I continued to watch him, I was surprised to realize he was extremely handsome as well. My heart went out to him. I had an overwhelming urge to protect him. I did not know what from, but wanted to just the same. The feeling made no sense—it was crazy. I should probably seek protection from him instead of protecting him but he seemed to be a lost soul. There was no one to look out for him, no light in his life. He needed someone to be his beacon.

Devlin adjusted his weight and closed his eyes, hoping the darkness would take him back to oblivion, but instead unanswered questions paraded through his mind. Isabelle had agreed to his truce down in the pit but what would she do now that they were not in it any longer. He knew he deserved whatever fate was meted out to him, but he was not looking forward to it. And just who exactly was this Katherine? Why did she look so much like Marguerite? Why was she here? She was just another reminder of what he could not have. The pain he was feeling now was much worse than the pain in his leg. It would not go away...ever.

♦

A short time later, Grayson strode back into the library with Isabelle right by his side.

Devlin slanted open one eye and glanced over at them. He closed it quickly. He was not looking forward to what was about to be done to his person. He was not sure he could take it. A cool hand slid into his. He opened his eyes and stared at an angel.

"Here, drink this." I handed him the glass of liquor.

Devlin took the drink and downed it, not losing sight of her lovely visage the entire time. He noticed Grayson looming over her shoulder and the moment vanished.

Grayson reached down and used a knife to slice open Devlin's pant leg. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it out to Devlin. "This is going to hurt," Grayson said.

And hurt it did—Devlin screamed out in agony as the excruciating pain brought the darkness upon him.

BETRAYAL

Ravenhurst

THE night had turned cold and bleak. The full moon was peering down from its lofty perch in the sky. There was no wind whispering in the trees. Icicles clung to branches, wanting to fall, but not quite able. Sebastian normally found some beauty in the night's bleakness, but not tonight. Instead, a bone chilling numbness spread throughout his body, threatening to shatter his very soul.

Milford stood idly by holding the reins of his horse, waiting for Sebastian to dismount so he could take the horse to the stable with his own. Sebastian looked so forlorn in that moment. He reminded Milford of Darias, his liege, how he looked so long ago when he was battling his own demons. He shook his head and stepped forward as Sebastian finally dismounted. He reached out, took the reins from him, and led the horses away.

Sebastian climbed the stairs to Ravenhurst, the crisp air stealing his breath as the weight of the day closed in on him. A scream shattered the stillness of the night.

His heart slammed against his ribcage and he took the stairs two at time, running through the front door as quickly as his feet would carry him. He was halfway through the library doors when he came to an abrupt halt. His breath now rushing from his lungs in broken gasps, his chest heaved. He could not believe what was right before his eyes. She was right there, not twenty feet in front of him. He took a step forward, relief flooding his body and then stopped just as suddenly. He felt like the air was being ripped from his lungs. In agony, he watched as the girl who had tormented his thoughts leaned over Devlin on the settee, holding his hand and brushing his hair from his face.

I felt him. I did not need to look to know he was there. My heart slammed in my chest. I let my fingers slip from Devlin's grasp and stood, keeping my eyes cast to the ground, my head hanging low. I felt so ashamed, even though I really had done nothing wrong, well, except kiss Devlin. I felt sick.

"Oh thank goodness, Sebastian, you have returned safe and sound," Isabelle, gushed. "And look who Grayson and I found in our search..." she trailed off. Sebastian brushed past her and walked directly in front of the woman who was not Marguerite.

I barely had a chance to turn before he was standing right in front of me. I held my breath. He was so close I could smell the crisp night air on him and feel the cold coming off his clothes. I stared at his snow-covered boots, not wanting to look up for fear of what I might see, but needing to just the same. He leaned forward. My heart skipped a beat. He stayed there, not moving, not saying anything. I lifted my eyes, first to his chest, and then his chin, his lips...they were unsmiling. No dimples in sight, I forced my eyes to his and froze. He was looking at me with such intensity, I wanted to take a step back, but forced myself to stay. I knew that somehow he needed me not to move...not an inch.

Devlin moaned.

Reflexively, I turned my head and instantly realized that I just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I quickly turned back to Sebastian.

The spell was broken.

I searched his eyes for some recognition of the person I saw only moments before. He was gone. Whoever had taken his place was cold, unfeeling. I shuddered within.

A MOMENT LOST

Ravenhurst

SHORTLY after my encounter with Sebastian in the library, I found myself back in my borrowed room. This time I did not have the warm, fuzzy feeling when I left him. No, quite the opposite...my heart was heavy in my chest, squeezing the very air from my lungs. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. Cry until all my tears were spent.

When Milford returned from the stables, he told us what transpired on their journey. I felt terrible; I had no idea they were looking for me. I also had no notion of the pain I apparently caused Sebastian. I was sorry for that as well.

Isabelle tried to make him stay, to tell him what happened, but Sebastian was having none of it. He brushed past us without a word, took a bottle from the sideboard, and disappeared from the room almost as quickly as he entered it.

After he left, I couldn't take the questioning glances or the accusing stares. So I made my excuses and quickly ran from the library towards the only place I could go. I ran back to my borrowed room, with my borrowed necklace inside. Somehow, I had ruined everything. I sat heavily upon the bed and looked over to where I kept the necklace hidden, loathing it.

♦

Sebastian stepped out of the now cold bath and donned his robe. He sat in front of the fire and drank directly from the bottle he took from the library earlier.

The liquid sloshed in the bottom as he swirled the bottle in his hand. He took another long pull, welcoming the burn and then leaned his head back against the cushion, his wet hair dampening the brocade fabric and closed his eyes. A throbbing pain gathered behind his closed eyes.

Well, at least he knew her name now. He had heard Isabelle say her name before he made his hasty exit from the room. "You are a bloody fool, Sebastian." He lifted the bottle and took another long pull.

He was not only a fool but a coward as well. He would not even listen to what happened to the girl who was wreaking havoc on his emotions.

He needed to put some distance between himself and her for a while. He did not trust himself to be near her just yet, he was so angry. It felt as though the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. He reached around and rubbed the back of his neck. He was suddenly so very tired. He knew he had to figure out what he would do now, but exhaustion finally won out and he drifted off to sleep. He dreamt of a beguiling woman with sapphire eyes. Her name was Katherine.

♦

The air was thick and heavy with steam as I stepped into the bath once more. I scrubbed my body until all the filth was gone from the place where I was held with Devlin. There were scrapes on my palms and cuts on my knees. I didn't climb out of the bath until the water went icy.

It matched my feelings perfectly. I didn't even bother with the childlike nightgown but instead slid the heavy brocade robe on. Pulling the belt tightly around my waist, I lifted the heavy blankets on the bed and climbed in.

Tears slid down my cheeks and wet the pillow. Frustrate, I grabbed a different pillow and punched it a few times. That didn't help much. The tears still slipped from my eyes as I laid my head down on the pillow. When I finally drifted off to sleep, I was plagued by the most unsettling dreams.

♦

Grayson, with the help of Milford and Isabelle, carried the still-unconscious Devlin into a room at the top of the stairs and settled him into the small bed that was pushed against the far wall.

"Should I stay with him," Milford inquired.

Grayson shook his head. "No, we will be in the adjoining chamber; if he awakens and needs tending I will take care of him."

"Are you sure?" Milford asked, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Yes, quite. Now go get some rest in case I need your assistance later."

Milford backed from the room before the Duke had a change of heart. "I will be right down the hall if you need me." And with that, he was gone.

Isabelle leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. "Do you think a fever will take hold?"

Grayson placed the back of his hand on Devlin's brow. "It has not yet, so that is a good sign," he said as he straightened once more. "We will leave the door ajar though, just in case." He gave Isabelle a reassuring smile, closed the distance between them, and pulled her into his embrace.

"I am not sleepy," Isabelle said, leaning back to look at his handsome face.

"I am sure I can think of something to tire you out," he said, lifting his brow flirtatiously.

"What of Devlin," she asked, twirling a piece of his hair between her fingers, smiling up at him wickedly.

Grayson chuckled and pulled her closer. He leaned forward and kissed her soundly.

Grayson led her into the adjoining chamber. All thoughts of Devlin were quickly forgotten.

♦

Milford walked down the darkened corridors with only his thoughts for company. He could not believe how muddled everything had become.

SWEET MISERY

Ravenhurst

THE door slid open silently. A cool breeze wafted through the room and glided over my naked body. I shivered and tried to pull the blankets up more snugly. My hand landed on something hard and unmoving. My eyes flew open. Sebastian was lying beside me with his eyes open, staring vacantly at the ceiling above. A knife jutted from his chest. I screamed.

♦

Devlin's eyes snapped open. "Katherine!" He tried to climb from the bed. Pain shot up his leg and he fell back, helpless. "Someone, anyone, help...her!" he yelled brokenly, fighting the searing pain in his leg. His body shivered uncontrollably, making his teeth chatter. He tried to move once again but the pain overrode his good intentions.

♦

Grayson ran through the adjoining door. His hair was standing on end, his chest was bare, and his trousers were open. He had a gun in his hand. Isabelle was right behind him, her hair in wild disarray, and her robe hanging loosely about her shoulders.

"My God man, what is wrong?" Grayson demanded, turning on the lights in the room. Devlin's eyes were wild. "I think the fever has him," he told Isabelle.

Devlin was barely intelligible. "It is Katherine. Go check on Katherine." He tried to climb from the bed once more. It was a futile attempt. He collapsed in agony.

Grayson looked questioningly at Isabelle and then brushed past her and ran into the hall towards Katherine's room.

"What is it?" she asked, trailing behind Grayson.

"I am not sure," Grayson said over his shoulder, making his way down the hall and then stopped outside of the chamber Katherine was staying in. He reached out and tried to turn the handle. It was locked.

"What is happening?" Milford was suddenly by his side.

Isabelle pulled her robe closed. "I do not know."

Grayson handed his gun to Milford, took a step back, and ran forward, ramming the door with his shoulder. The door would not budge.

Milford handed the gun to Isabelle and took an unsteady breath. Then he lifted his foot and tried to kick the door, but it still would not give.

Isabelle stood away from them both, the gun in her hand, giving Grayson and Milford a wide berth. When neither was successful in opening the door, she handed the gun back to Milford, walked over to the door, and turned the handle. It swung open easily.

Grayson and Milford looked at one another, their astonishment clear. They both looked at Isabelle. She shrugged her shoulders and stepped aside.

Frigid air blew from the room. The sight that greeted them was not one they expected.

♦

A group of startled faces loomed just inside the doorway.

"It was just a bad dream" Sebastian tightened his hold on Katherine as she shivered in his arm from the last dregs of her nightmare.

Grayson wrapped his arm around Isabelle. "I think Sebastian has everything under control."

"I believe you may be right," she agreed and grabbed hold of his hand, letting him pull her from the room.

Milford looked down at the gun in his hand and then glanced back at Sebastian. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I think she is all right now," Sebastian said.

"I will be right down the hall if you have need of my assistance," Milford said and turned to leave.

"Milford," Sebastian called out.

Milford stopped and turned back towards Sebastian. "Yes."

"Thank you."

Milford pressed his shoulders back. "You are quite welcome, Sir." And with that, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, never once seeing the knife on the floor as it was pulled slowly back under the bed.

♦

Devlin swore under his breath and tried to adjust himself on the narrow bed. He felt completely worthless. If something untoward happened to Katherine, he would never be able to forgive himself. It was strange, he barely knew the girl, but he had somehow formed a bond with her while they were down in the pit. They seemed to be kindred spirits. His thoughts were broken by the appearance of Grayson in the doorway. "Is she..."

Grayson cut him off. "She is fine. It was merely a bad dream."

Devlin breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing his hands over his face. "Thank God."

"Have you known her long?" Grayson had a curious look on his face.

Devlin lowered his hands and smiled ruefully. "Actually, no, I have not... but... Oh never mind. Thank you for telling me."

Grayson tilted his head. "You are quite welcome," he said. Then he turned and quietly shut the door.

Devlin closed his eyes, lying back on the pillows, but he did not find sleep

A NEW DAY

Ravenhurst

BRIGHT shafts of light poured into the chamber, dispelling all gloom and taking with it the ghastly creatures that lurked around the edges of my mind...remnants from my disturbing dream. I opened my eyes and it took me a moment to remember where I even was. I was not in my borrowed room but in another room altogether. This one had a very masculine quality to it. And then I remembered, this room was Sebastian's.

After my horrendous dream, I couldn't shut my eyes without having a terrible feeling something awful was going to happen to Sebastian. When I had told him of my fears, he had suggested that I sleep in his room.

Unfortunately, he did not sleep in the bed with me like I had hoped. No, he took the chair beside the bed and propped his feet on the bottom. Surprisingly, once I shut my eyes, I was out.

Stretching lazily, I lifted my arms above my head. The bed was a dark reddish-brown wood, carved with lion head adornments. Reaching up, I touched one. The tooth was sharp.

Much like my borrowed room, over to my left, there was a large bank of windows. The curtains pulled wide apart. Crawling from the bed, I stood and looked outside. White wispy clouds swirled across the expanse of blue sky and the ground was covered entirely in a fresh blanket of glistening snow that shimmered like diamonds in the sun. Small animal tracks were the only thing marring its perfection. Turning away from the window, I ran my hand over the heavy brocade fabric of the coverlet on his bed. It was a dark red color, which pulled the hazy dregs of my nightmare to the forefront of my mind, and I envisioned my own blankets covered in the dark wet stain of Sebastian's blood. I rubbed the chill from my arms and quickly left the room.

Padding barefoot down the hall, I reentered my borrowed room and made quick work of getting dressed and making myself presentable. This time I chose a light blue colored gown with white piping. After I dressed, I checked my appearance in the mirror. Dark circles loomed under my eyes, which made my face look paler than usual. Wishing for some makeup, I looked over at the dressing table. There was some lip salve and powder but I was reluctant to use any since Ned had once told me that the Victorians actually put arsenic in face powder to make their complexions pallid. Of course, they had no idea they were slowly poisoning themselves. Thank goodness, Ned filled me in on that one.

Well there was no hope for it. I would just have to stay pale. Lifting my skirts, I quickly left the room. The corridor was cloaked in shadows and the sconces flickered eerily on the wall as I hurried past several closed doors. I gave them a wide berth. I was afraid Crazy was hiding behind one, waiting to do me in. One lone door stood open at the end of the hall, near the stairway. Unable to resist, I peered inside cautiously.

The room was small, but pretty, done in light shades with floral accents. A narrow bed was pushed against the far wall. Devlin was lying in the middle with his eyes closed. His leg was propped on a stack of pillows. He looked uncomfortable. I wanted to ask if he needed anything, but I was suddenly unsure if I should. I did not want to ruin what strides I had made with Sebastian. The last thing I needed was for him to see me and assume the worst. Still, I couldn't quite turn away either; he seemed so...alone...vulnerable.

Devlin cracked one eye open. He felt her standing there. "Good morning," he said cheerily.

"Oh!" Startled, I jumped and banged my elbow on the doorframe.

"Are you all right?" he asked, a smile brightening his face.

"Yes," I sighed and rubbed the sore spot. "How are you?"

"I feel much better now." He hitched up his brow.

"I am relieved to hear that." My heart fluttered which unsettled me even more.

"You know, you may come in. I promise I will not bite." He raised his brow flirtatiously.

"I would...but, ah...I really should get downstairs and eat."

"Famished are we?" His eyes crinkled at the corners as though he was holding back a laugh.

"Ah...."

"It is all right Katherine. You need to eat. Go on."

I felt terrible. "I can get you something. I mean, that is what I was going to do...,"I could tell by the look on his face he knew exactly what I was doing. I was running away from him because I was afraid Sebastian would catch me with him and assume the worst.

"I understand," he said with meaning.

"I will be back shortly. I promise." I gave him a meaningful look. "Is there anything you need before I go?" I felt like a deserter.

"A glass of water would be nice," he said and glanced over at the pitcher on the bedside table.

I did a quick check over my shoulder and peered down the hall and then down the stairs. The coast was clear. Rushing forward, I quickly grabbed up the heavy cut glass pitcher, and poured a glass of water. It sloshed over the rim of the glass as I shakily held it out for him.

A pained look crossed his face. He could not seem to extend his arm far enough to grasp the glass.

"Let me help you." I moved closer to the bed. Reaching over, I put the glass to his lips. He could not seem to lift his head either. I had to wonder at his sudden weakness, since I could swear his head was lifted just fine moments before. Gently, I placed my hand behind his head and helped him drink.

Devlin sipped the water slowly, his heavy lidded gaze locking on mine over the rim.

A rush of heat spread to my face under his close perusal. I felt antsy. The room was closing in on me as images of our shared kiss flitted into my mind. Devlin seemed to take an exceedingly long time to drink his fill. Once he finished daintily drinking up every last drop of water, I put the glass back on the bedside table and turned to flee the room but it was too late.

Sebastian leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, watching my every move.

I gulped reflexively at the expression I saw on his face. It would seem luck was not with me this time either.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything?" he said tonelessly.

"No. Not at all," I squeaked out in a pitch too high. I felt like I was caught doing something bad instead of merely helping an invalid drink some water. Of course, the invalid was the same man I had kissed the evening before. Double crap. "I was just giving Devlin some water. He was thirsty and not able to get it himself." Even to my own ears, I sounded guilty.

"Devlin how is your leg?" Sebastian pushed off the doorframe. "Funny, I was not aware your arms were broken as well," he said with an icy edge.

Devlin settled back on the pillows. "How astute of you." He smirked. "You are right, my arms are not broken, but sudden movements do cause me undue pain."

"How thoughtless of me," Sebastian added in feigned concern. "Would you like me to help you with anything?" He used no effort to keep the derision from his voice.

"No, Katherine has already helped me," Devlin said sweetly.

I darted my eyes back and forth between the two. I didn't want them to start bickering again. "Oh my, I am starving. Is there any food downstairs?" I asked dumbly, trying to divert the tension in the room.

"I believe there are a few biscuits left in the kitchen." His brows creased.

I felt so guilty I couldn't stand it. "Well, I will um, go get one, if that is all right?"

"I say, a biscuit sounds appetizing. Might I have one as well?" Devlin piped in.

"If there are any left after Katherine has eaten," Sebastian answered.

"Of course there will be some left," I said defensively. "I will bring you one up directly," I told Devlin and walked over to the door.

Sebastian blocked my way out. "No, you won't." He grasped my arm.

What the hell? I jerked my arm from his grasp. "Yes, I will, he is hurt." I pushed past him and made my way downstairs towards the kitchen.

The smell of fresh coffee hit me as soon as I opened the door. There was no one inside the quaint room. A pot of coffee sat in the center of a serviceable wooden table with delicate porcelain cups and a small plate of biscuits beside it. I poured coffee in one of the cups and held it between my frozen fingers. Lifting the cup, I sipped the contents, wishing for cream and sugar, but drinking it just the same. I took one of the biscuits and bit into it. Just like last time, it was dry and didn't have much taste, but it was better than nothing. Taking another sip of coffee, I washed it down.

After I finished, I quickly made a tray to carry up to Devlin. I didn't care if Sebastian got mad or not. He didn't own me.

What was with Victorian men? Better question to self, what was with all men? Janice always said the reason I never had dates was because I was too accessible. She said I might as well have a neon sign hanging over my head, flashing that I was desperate for a date and that was why no one asked me out. Janice was big on analogies. She said my restaurant parking lot was empty whereas her lot was always full with a line of men out front, clamoring to get inside. It was true. Janice always had a date but I had always assumed it was because the doors to Janice's restaurant tended to stay propped open all night. Inflating my cheeks, I let out a long slow shaky breath.

Now I had a dilemma. It looked like I had more than one car in my lot with two very different men clamoring to get inside. The problem was I didn't think either one was interested in buying the meal. I laughed out loud and shook my head. Good lord, what was I thinking? There was too much talk about savory meals and restaurants. And since when did people start using food analogies to describe sex? I found I was suddenly starving and wasn't sure it was from all the food analogies or if it was because I was actually hungry. I eyed the last biscuit, tempted to take another nibble, but forced myself to take the tray I made upstairs to Devlin. With tray in hand, I bumped my hip against the door. It swung open and I walked slowly out of the kitchen.

Coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup as I halted. Sebastian was at the bottom of the stairs speaking in hushed tones to Milford. I was about to turn around and go back in the kitchen but Milford spotted me and lifted his brows.

Sebastian turned and looked right me.

I promptly stumbled forward and somehow grabbed hold of the biscuit before it launched off the side of the tray. Sebastian was beside me in an instant, saving the tray from tumbling to the floor.

I looked up into his eyes and froze. I couldn't catch a breath. Would it always be this way? I wondered.

He held tightly to my arm and singlehandedly handed the tray off to Milford. "Take this to Devlin, please."

"Of course." Milford looked worriedly over at me.

I gulped. The way Milford looked at me, I knew this wasn't going to be good.

"We need to talk." Sebastian guided me towards the library.

I followed him. He didn't really leave me any choice.

"Sit down, please."

I plopped down into the chair and nervously smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt. I was nervous. He did not look happy. His jaw was tense and he had an unreadable expression on his face. I wondered what I did wrong this time. He seriously could not be angry because I got Devlin some food, could he? I felt incredibly self-conscious. He took the chair opposite from mine and focused his gaze directly on me. I picked at my fingernail, fidgeting. I wanted to scream...Stop looking at me, but I didn't.

Finally, I couldn't take his empty stare any longer and turned towards the fire.

Sebastian crossed one leg over the other and rubbed his knee absently as he watched her, watching the fire with a faraway look on her face. He wondered what she was thinking. Was she trying to spin more lies to tell him? His heart tightened at the thought. Her eyes were swollen from her tears the evening before. She still looked beautiful. He caught her glancing over at him like a nervous child, waiting to be punished for some wrongful deed. He smiled a bit, not able to help himself and decided to get this over with, sooner rather than later. He cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Well, would you like to tell me who you are?"

My throat constricted. "Who am I?"

"Yes, who are you?" He leaned forward and braced his arms on his thighs.

"I am not Marguerite," I mumbled just above a whisper. A sudden urge to run from the room assailed me but I was sure he would stop me if I tried. Visions of him tackling me to the ground flew into my mind.

"I know," he responded in a deadpan voice.

"You do?" My eyes flew to his and I instantly regretted it. His face was hard, unyielding. "My name is Katherine."

"I know that as well," he stated simply.

"You do?" My eyes flew to his once more. Again, I saw nothing. His face was a mask. Gathering my courage, I took a deep breath. Was I to tell him everything? Or just the parts I thought he would believe? I found it hard to take a full breath, I felt like I was suffocating. I was going to start hyperventilating at any moment, but could not seem to slow my heart rate, either. I took another deep breath and blew out a slow stream of air. It wasn't helping. I jumped from the chair.

He stood quickly as well.

Visions of him tackling me to the ground ran through my mind once more and a bubble of hysterical laughter escaped filled with derision and defeat.

He took a step forward.

"No." I lifted my hand to stay him, and instead, walked over to the sideboard. Lifting the heavy crystal decanter, I poured a glass of the amber liquid. In one gulp, I tossed back the contents. It burned all the way down. I didn't care. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw he was still watching my every move. Well, I thought darkly, if he wanted to watch, I might as well give him something to see, so I refilled the glass and drank another down for good measure. Once I finished, I set the heavy glass down and turned to face him. I extended my arm towards the chair. "Please take a seat. This may take a while."

Not taking his eyes from me, he moved back in front of the chair and sat back down.

Dragging my feet, I made my way slowly back across the room and sat heavily into the opposite chair. I felt sick. This was not going to be easy. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem." He rested his ankle on his knee and leaned back into the chair.

Listening intently, I waited, hoping Milford would show up and cause a scene like before. There was no sign of him. Apparently, I had to wing this on my own. Damn the man.

"Erhm...ah...you stated earlier you know I am not Marguerite. And you are aware that my real name is Katherine?"

"Yes," he stated plainly, his stare unrelenting.

"So, I guess I will just start from the beginning."

"That would seem to be the most sensible solution," he said in agreement.

I inflated my cheeks and blew out another stream of air. "This isn't as easy as I thought it would be."

"The truth never is."

"Right, well, as I said before when I first met you here the other day. Well, what I said was true. I was here with another man, but not like a date or anything, we both worked at the same place and there was a party here."

"Go on," he urged, his jaw tensed.

"Anyway, I know this is going to sound really out there but I borrowed this necklace from my work and came to a party, or you would call it a soiree I guess. Anyway, I somehow ended up in this time, here, not my time here. Are you following me?"

"I am trying to."

I could see the confusion on his face but plodded onward. "Anyway, I came here but it was ah..."

"Yes, you said you came here already. So you are here and then what happened?"

"Well, I drank too much and at some point I must have passed out and when I woke up I was here, in this time, with you."

"Yes you already said you were here." He frowned and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"You are not listening," I complained.

"Yes I am," he sounded exasperated.

"Well you are not getting what I am trying to tell you."

"You are not telling me anything," he snapped.

I was getting tired of beating around the bush. "You are not listening to me," I complained, repeating myself.

"I am listening, Marguerite...ah I mean. Oh bloody hell, what is your name again?"

Tears sprang to my eyes. "Katherine, my name is Katherine," I said the last on a whisper. My name hung in the air as hot tears filled my eyes and spilled over onto my cheeks. I brushed them away. "I traveled back in time," I nearly yelled. Once the words were out of my mouth, there was no going back.

He stared at me in disbelief. Lifting his hand to his ear, he pressed his finger against it. "I am sorry. I do not think I heard you correctly. Did you just say you traveled back in time?"

"Yes." I sniffed and then laughed a little. It came out sounding strained and forced. "See why I didn't want to tell you. You think I am crazy, don't you?"

Why yes, yes I do. He did not say that out loud though. "Why are you here?"

I sniffed back my tears again. "Oh, apparently I have to fix some wrong done to a knight or by a knight, I don't know. The story is a little out there." The damn broke and I began to cry in earnest.

The story is a little out there. "You what?"

"I said..."

He dashed his hand through the air, cutting me off.

"Bloody hell!" he exhaled shakily. Apparently, she was a raving lunatic, spouting gibberish about traveling into the past from the future for some knight. Sebastian blinked a few times. He ran his hands back and forth over his thighs and then stood. He gave her another look of incredulous disbelief and then started pacing back and forth in front of the fire.

Milford stood in a darkened corner of the room. He snuck in unnoticed while Katherine was pouring the liquid courage down her throat, again. He could see things were not going as well as he hoped. Sebastian's look of disbelief was apparent. Would he think she was insane?

The story Milford relayed to Katherine was far more a curse than a legend. His heart went out to her as she started to cry softly. He forced himself to stay hidden, knowing if he interfered now, his true liege's soul would be forever lost to the darkness.

It took Sebastian three glasses of his finest and a good deal of time pacing back and forth before he could finally make himself sit back down in front of her once more. He was trying his best to absorb the fantastic tale she was relaying to him while he continued to pace. He stopped a few times and gawked at her, unable to find words. He was not sure how to respond. He had a terrible time trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying. Her tears flowed freely from her eyes, maybe too freely.

He knew many women used tears to wrap lesser men around their fingers. He was not one of those men, or so he told himself.

"So, you see how difficult this has been for me?" I wiped my tears and lifted my face to his. "How can I fix something I have no real knowledge of?" I rubbed my forehead to alleviate the pressure building there.

Sebastian still had no words. He watched her struggling and his heart felt heavy. He wanted to believe what she told him, he really did. His mind, however, could not quite grasp hold of it. What she was saying was complete and utter insanity. There was no wiggle room there. He did not want to believe that though, not now, not ever. What in the hell was he to do? Send her off to Bedlam? Believe her? Which was worse?

He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to find answers to the many questions spiraling through his mind. He had none.

♦

Devlin could hear her cries wafting up from below. He wanted to give Katherine some sort of comfort. He knew the clod, Sebastian, was probably passing judgment on her at this very instant. He was helpless to do anything. Grayson made sure of that.

Devlin tried to climb from the bed earlier, but as soon as his foot hit the floor, Grayson was in the doorway, watching him. Although Grayson did not say a word, Devlin knew he could not interfere, so he simply closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the pillows until he could no longer hear her cries. For that, he was grateful.

♦

Grayson pushed off from the door when her cries had finally faded away and went to join Isabelle in the connecting room. Isabelle's face told Grayson that she was keeping her own set of secrets at bay. He only hoped in time, she would choose to reveal them to him, and let him help carry the burden.

♦

Sebastian was not sure how much time had passed. He rubbed his hand over his forehead, listening to her hiccup and sniffle. She sounded pitiful. He searched his brain, trying to find a plausible explanation for all she told him.

Obviously, she believed what she was saying. His mind was shouting it could not be so, but his heart told him something very different.

He knew some things were real, even though you could not see them. He was aware of many such wonders he had to accept in life thus far. Had someone told him of the possibility of steam engines as a form of transportation a hundred years ago, would he have thought them insane as well? Yes, he admitted to himself, he probably would. So that being the case, if this was something that happens in say, another hundred years, could it mean what she told him may very well be possible too? His heart thought so. His mind did not.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was staring at the floor, but slowly, she lifted her eyes to his. Her blue eyes glistened with more unshed tears and time was forgotten for a breathless moment as his heart battled his mind. He was torn in two: part of him wanted to believe her, but the sensible part balked at the absurdity of it all.

In the end, did it really matter what he believed?

Something gave inside. A part of the wall he had built so firmly around his heart crumbled. A part of him wanted to believe her, no matter how insane she sounded. He might possibly be sealing his own fate. It did not matter. It felt, for lack of a better word...right. He stood then and reached out, pulling her up from the chair. The top of her head barely reached the top of his shoulder as he lifted his hand and pressed her face against his chest. He held her tightly in his embrace. Leaning back, he looked at her. Her face was wet with the tears she had cried. He used his thumbs to brush them away.

"I do not think..." He stared down at her, his stormy gray eyes filled with uncertainty and something else.

"It's okay." I cast my eyes down to his chest. The once pristine fabric now splotched with wetness from my tears and let out a shaky breath, waiting for the inevitable...

Sebastian slid his thumb over the pillowy softness of her lips and finally gave up trying to figure everything out now. It would come in time...or not. Right now, he did not care. Instead of thinking, he gave his heart full reign; for once, he would take a chance on fate.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her with all the pent-up emotions he was feeling. He tasted the saltiness from her tears and pulled her even closer, her body melded perfectly to his own as if she belonged there.

They stayed wrapped in each other's embrace, holding onto one another as if their lives depended on it.

Only Milford knew how true that really was. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was bittersweet. He slipped from the room as quietly as he had entered it.

The room was now empty except for Katherine and Sebastian. It was as it should be...as if, he, Milford, had never been there in the first place.

YOU SHOULDN'T PLAY WITH FIRE

Ravenhurst

EMITTING a breathy sigh, I peeled off the gown I was wearing earlier for "the conversation" in the library. I still could not believe it had gone as well as it did.

Sebastian, after his initial shock, had seemed to take the story I told him in stride. I wasn't sure I would have been as receptive if I was in his shoes. I would have thought I was a hop, skip, and a jump away from Crazyville. But he had held me, kissed me, and made me feel like he truly wanted to believe what I told him.

Things were looking up.

At least he didn't kick me out of the house, or worse, lock me back down in the disgusting dungeon.

I glanced out of the window. It was already dark and I was supposed to be getting ready for dinner. Food was the last thing on my mind right now though. My lips still felt swollen and tender from his kisses. I sighed and draped the gown on top of the chair.

It was a good thing Marguerite had so many gowns or I would have been stuck wearing the same thing again. Instinctively, my eyes drifted to the bureau, wondering why he never asked to see the infamous necklace. It was just as well. I hoped he never would ask. Walking over to the wardrobe, I bent down and checked to see if it was still against the wall. It was.

Crossing the room, I looked behind the curtains and under the bed just in case the Looney-toon found another way in. I was positive that was who was in here my first day here. I couldn't help but wonder what she wanted. Did crazy people need reasons for doing crazy things? Somehow, the topic of the woman in question didn't come up, which was strange as well. I supposed that was going to be a topic for discussion once everyone was together in one room again. At least, that way we could compare stories and try to figure out who the woman was, or at the very least, what she wanted.

Devlin mentioned there were at least two but I only saw one. So where was the other person? I would have to figure that out later. Now I needed to finish getting ready.

Fifteen minutes later, I unlocked the door of the bathroom and peered out into the room. The door creaked. Note to self: Bring a weapon in the damn bathroom next time.

Luckily, no one was in the room, but I still moved pretty fast and made a dash for the wardrobe. Once in front, I pulled open the door, grabbed the first gown I found and ran back to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the gown I grabbed was an ugly green color with little leaves sewn onto the neckline and sleeves. It was far from pretty, but right now, I didn't care.

After I was all buttoned up in the gown, even though I had thought it ugly moments before, it did have some definite perks. It made my waist look impressively small and gave my boobs a good lift, which made them appear more substantial than they really were. The color wasn't as bad as I originally thought either. It made my pale face look pretty good, even though I would have preferred to forgo the gown in exchange for some nice comfy sweats. Sweats would have been awesome but then again sweats were your enemy if you were trying to lose weight. The damn things gave too much.

At least with jeans they squeezed your belly if you tried to eat too much. Thinking about twentieth century clothing or lack thereof made me think of my skinnier twin Marguerite. I couldn't help but wonder how she was faring after her encounter with Jack. Every time I thought about what I may have done to her accidentally, it gave me the willies. Although, it could have been so much worse. Or would it have been? Did I really have the ability to move Marguerite through time? Or was it just a coincidence?

Once again, my eyes slid over to the bureau...and then over to the clock...I had time. Should I try again just to see if I could really send her places? Of course, I would make sure I was more careful this time and not think of anything gruesome. Yes, that would work, I convinced myself. Before I changed my mind, I leaned down, opened the drawer, and pulled out the amulet. Still, I held the chain in the folds of my gown to be on the safe side as I walked over to the door and opened it just enough so I would be able to hear if someone was coming down the hall to get me for dinner.

Once I adjusted the door, I walked back over to the fireplace and sat down in one of the chairs. Clearing my mind, I placed my hand on top of the stone and concentrated only on Marguerite. Instantly, a sharp jolt shot up my arm as a flash of white stole my sight momentarily, and then my vision cleared and I was once again a spectator in another time...

FLASH * NEW YORK CITY* PRESENT DAY

Marguerite paced back and forth across the expanse of the high-rise apartment. She was wearing a new pair of pajamas, her long wet hair hung down her back. She sat down on the patterned carpet, pulled her knees to her chest, and rested her chin on her knees. Her expression looked forlorn.

Why was she on the floor? I didn't know why but seeing her that way instantly irritated me. There was a rather nice looking sofa with tons of pillows piled on the top. "Oh come on, sit on the damn sofa," I complained aloud.

Marguerite jerked upright. She looked around the sumptuous apartment, and scrambled to her feet. She ran over and sat on the edge of the sofa.

Hmm, interesting. I wondered if she actually heard me or was it simply another coincidence. Well, that really did not prove anything. There was a book on the coffee table, and without really thinking about what I was doing, I focused on the book. It was entitled The French Revolution: The Downfall of a Monarchy. I instantly remembered the rumor spread about Marie Antoinette. "Let them eat cake," it was a terrible thing to say to people who were starving...
I had always wondered if the saying were actually true or merely a rumor. I guessed no one would ever know for sure. The scene jiggled and then blurred out of focus. I couldn't see anything and then another tingling shock slid up my arm.

A door slammed in the distance. Shit. Someone was walking down the hall. I dropped the necklace and stood. My mind slammed back to the present. I ran over to the door and poked my head out. Eerie shadows slid down the walls, growing in length with the darkness. Straining my ears, I waited for a sound or movement. There was none. Huh? I pulled my head back in the room and rubbed my arms. "This place sure is creepy at night."

Well, it was actually creepy all the time, but at night, it was even creepier. I smoothed the wrinkles from my gown. What was taking Sebastian so long to get me? I glanced back at the clock. It was seven thirty. Oh well, maybe he got tied up doing something. I paced back and forth for a minute debating whether to go downstairs alone and then saw the necklace.

Oh no! I ran back across the room and picked it up off the floor. As soon as I wrapped my fingers around the stone, my mind flashed to another place and I was once again a spectator in another time.

FLASH* October 16, 1793, Place de la Concorde

Early morning mist clung to the earth like a shroud. In the distance was the outline of a massive structure, and in front of it was a Guillotine. Its ropes tethered at the side, the blade shone brightly and glinted in the early morning sun.

A crowd of filthy people gathered down at the base of the structure...waiting. A shadowy form climbed the stairs. The heavy thud of footsteps on the wooden planks vibrated in my ears. A shiver of dread swept over me as a huge man wearing a black hood came up the stairs and was dragging his hapless victim by a rope, their arms tied behind their back with a dark cloth covering their face.

The crowd jeered as the man pulled the cloth away revealing a woman. Her dark hair was tangled with dirt and filth that covered most of her face. The executioner pushed her down to her knees and pressed her forward, until her neck lay inside the blood-soaked groove of the guillotine. The girl gazed listlessly at the screaming crowd below.

My heart thumped against my ribcage as a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Whoever the girl was, she seemed to be in full acceptance of her fate. Indignation filled me. What could have possibly happened to a person to make her not want to struggle to breathe for at least one moment more? How could she give up so easily? Although I was appalled by what I was seeing, I could not look away.

The girl lifted her face once more, her neck covered in blood that dripped down its length as she cast her eyes towards the sky.

In horror, I suddenly realized who was about to be decapitated. Covering my mouth, I felt like I was going to pass out or be sick, I didn't know which. My mind reeled, the girl about to get her head separated from her body was, is...Marguerite. She was still wearing her fancy pajamas and staring right at me.

"OH MY GOD! Oh no! No, no, not her, not here!

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the gruesome sight and force another one in my mind instead. Even as I tried to envision the apartment, I couldn't get the sight of Marguerite about to get her head chopped off. I stomped my feet and squeezed the stone as hard as I could. My fingers burned, I didn't care. I shook the necklace. "Why aren't you working?"

The blade glinted in the sun, and the executioner was about to release the rope. The crowd jeered louder.

"Oh Good Lord, please, NO!"

I pressed my mind as hard as I could, but the morbidity of the situation was foremost in my mind. I was panicking and could not grasp anything tangible. Random things flitted through my mind.

The executioner released the blade.

I strained to envision the sumptuous décor, the rug. I held my breath. Another flash came and I staggered backward from the force. My head felt like it was going to split in two.

Finally, I opened my eyes once more. "Thank God!"

Marguerite was back in the apartment, but this time she was screaming at the top of her lungs. The sound hurt my ears, but I didn't care. At least it was better than the alternative. Tears slid down my face as Marguerite stormed through the apartment, covered in blood. She shook her fist in the air.

Of course, I could not make out all of what she was saying, but I had a good idea. I had a feeling Marguerite was going to look at me any minute now and accuse me of sending her to hell...again.

This really wasn't too far off the mark. "I am so sorry," I whispered and released the necklace. The vision dissolved.

"Holy Shit! I almost killed Marguerite...again."

THIS TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE

Ravenhurst

AFTER the necklace debacle, I thought it best not to be left alone for a while. Apparently, I couldn't be trusted to my own devices. This was two times now that I had almost killed Marguerite. Obviously, I had my answer now. I really could send the poor girl through time.

I left the room and didn't bother to slow down when I hit the stairs. My hand slid down the banister as I ran down as quickly as I could.

Once at the bottom I made a hard right and nearly took down one of the gargoyles in the process. "Damn it, Joey, stay put," I whispered fiercely. Joey was the name I dubbed the gargoyle to make it seem less threatening.

The massive doors of the library stood open, and I could hear voices. Just outside the doors, I stopped. Everyone was already inside. I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. Why didn't anyone come and get me? Even Devlin was inside.

Isabelle and Grayson were talking quietly in a far corner of the room. They couldn't keep their hands off one another. It was obvious they were in love. Instantly, I was envious and wished Sebastian acted the same towards me...and then I saw him and my stomach flipped over on itself. Sebastian was leaning on the mantel, gazing into the flames, his profile even more handsome than I remembered. I wished I knew how he felt about the story I told him, or how he felt about me. Everything was such a mess.

Devlin was sitting up on the settee with his leg propped up. He turned and looked right at me and gave me a big, broad smile.

A rush of heat climbed to my face and I instinctively smiled back at him. I was so relieved he was not in pain any longer. There was something about him that made me instantly feel more at ease. I wasn't sure if it was his boyish charm or something altogether different.

Prickles of awareness made me pull my gaze from Devlin. Sebastian was looking directly at me with an unreadable expression on his gorgeous face.

I was busted, again.

A wave of dread passed over me. Sebastian was not happy, not one bit. I could tell that from across the room.

Sebastian rubbed the crease between his eyes. What in the hell was between them? Oh, he had seen that little exchange. He felt the all too familiar sting and his blood began to boil. He was pissed and rightly so. It was the same song and dance with Devlin and Marguerite. The way her eyes followed Devlin as she watched him from afar. Sebastian ignored it, or tried to. Was he a fool all along? Was there something between Marguerite and Devlin, and was he trying to woo Katherine now as well?

Sebastian had to shake himself. He was being bloody ridiculous. If he did not watch himself, he would end up pushing her directly into Devlin's waiting arms. That was not an option. He pushed off the mantel, closing the distance between them quickly, and stopped.

I didn't move an inch. He slipped his finger gently under my chin and lifted it upward. Slowly I raised my eyes to his, the stormy depths pulling me further in with every second that ticked by. I wasn't sure if he was mad or happy... "What took you so long?"

I felt like he knew what I had done. "I was ah, trying to find a dress," I lied. I wasn't going to tell him I was sending Marguerite, his real betrothed, off to the guillotine... Nope, wouldn't say that. Maybe I should say, waiting for you, which I was, because he told me to...but I said neither.

"Ahem." Someone cleared his or her throat loudly.

My eyes jumped to his gorgeous face.

"Would you care for a drink before we start?"

"Huh?"

"I asked if you would care for a drink."

"Yes, I would love you, I mean, ah, thank you."

Sebastian froze. Did she just say...I would love you? Surely, it was a mix of words, she meant nothing by them, and yet he could not stop the warm feeling from invading his heart, making the wall crumble just a bit more. He reached forward to take her hand and pull her from the room but a voice interrupted him.

"Say, de Winter, I will take one as well," Devlin called out.

Sebastian jaw clenched and he dropped his hand. "I did not ask you." Another wave of tension assailed him when his Aunt cut in, giving her unwelcome opinion on the matter.

"Now dear, he is injured," she said, reminding Sebastian, as if he could forget.

"Fine," he said and turned to get the drinks.

Not having any alternative, I crossed the room and sat down in the chair facing the settee. I tried not to look at Devlin, but he was right in front of me. He was smirking at Sebastian's back, like a spoiled little kid. I would have laughed but that wouldn't do well for either of us if I did. He was pushing his luck though; he was at Sebastian's mercy now and should really be careful not to try his patience.

Devlin tore his gaze from Sebastian's back. There was no use in tossing eye daggers any longer when the blasted do-gooder was not even looking at him. Besides, his shoulders were growing before his very eyes. The last thing Devlin needed was to look at Sebastian's incredible physique. He turned. Katherine was giving him an incredulous look.

"What?" he mouthed and tried to ignore the look she was giving him, like he was ungrateful, or something comparable. Therefore, he did the only thing he could think of, he shrugged his shoulders indifferently and crossed his arms over his chest, letting her know he could care less, even though he kind-of did.

A hand holding a glass blocked my silent exchange with Devlin. I looked up to Sebastian's unsmiling face and took the glass. "Thank you."

He turned and dropped the other drink over Devlin's lap.

Devlin snatched the glass from the air. "Thanks." He smiled with smug satisfaction and lifted his glass in the air.

"You are not welcome." Sebastian fisted his hand. He wanted nothing more than to punch Devlin right in his smug face. Instead, he walked over and retrieved his own drink, then resumed his silent vigil in front of the fire.

The tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Grayson had had enough. He was a patient man, but even he found he could not tolerate much more of their childlike antics. Normally, he would let them have a go at each other, but Devlin was injured, and well, Sebastian was not in the right frame of mind. Just watching them, he could tell Sebastian might very well wring Devlin's neck before the night was through. He knew that would upset Isabelle and that was not an option at this point. "Let us get to this, shall we, gentlemen?" Grayson booming voice commanded attention.

Taking a breath, Sebastian reined in his temper. There were more important matters at hand than choking the life from Devlin, although he would not mind doing that, either. "Yes, Grayson, we should. Thank you."

Grayson inclined his head toward Sebastian and grabbed hold of Isabelle's hand. He caressed it lovingly.

"What do we know?" Sebastian asked the room at large trying to ignore the intimate exchange between Grayson and his Aunt.

Devlin gaped at Isabelle. She was making a spectacle of herself, petting and kissing the Duke's hand. He frowned at her. Could the woman not wait until she and Grayson were alone? He did not remember her acting that way towards him in public. He rolled his eyes. "What are you speaking of, exactly?"

"Good Lord, man." Sebastian gave Devlin a look of disbelief. "I am talking about the person that took you both." His patience was wearing thin.

"Oh, that," Devlin said with feigned disinterest, and plucked a piece of lint from his trouser leg.

"Yes, that." Sebastian widened his eyes.

Devlin waited until he had everyone's undivided attention. "There had to be at least two of them. Had there only been one, I would not have found myself in that pit, chained, and with a broken leg."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, I am sure," Devlin huffed indignantly.

"Well, Katherine, what do you have to say?" Isabelle asked.

I spluttered out my drink. "Me? Ah, well, I only saw one." The woman's horrid face came to mind and I shivered. "It was a woman...she was disfigured."

"Are you sure it was a woman?" Isabelle's face paled.

Devlin cut in, "Yes, that is what she said. Good Lord woman, can you hear?"

"Oh." Isabelle sat back in her chair as her face drained of all color.

Grayson noticed Isabelle's demeanor had changed the instant Katherine mentioned the disfigured woman. "Enough!" he bellowed. "We have established there was a woman, at least. Obviously, she wants something. What could she want?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Devlin shrugged.

"I have no idea." I slouched down in the chair.

"I do not know." Sebastian was stumped.

"Fine, let us stick to the facts," Grayson said. "Katherine, where did you see her?"

"I was in a room off the gallery. I was looking for Sebastian." My voice came out sounding defensive. "No one was here."

Sebastian jerked his head around. "I was looking for you outdoors. I checked all the rooms several times before Milford and I finally decided to look outside." He narrowed his eyes at me. "If you were inside the entire time, why did not you answer me when I called out for you?"

What to say? Oh right, I was hanging out in a secret passageway while you were out freezing your ass off looking for me? "Um, well...ah, I may have been in the bathroom, maybe..." I shrugged stupidly. Oh my GOD! Seriously the bathroom. Most embarrassing answer ever.

"The bathroom?" Sebastian gaped at me. "Really?" he asked, his disbelief rang out loud and clear.

"I am sure Katherine was simply wandering around another part of the house," Milford interjected.

"Of course, that must be it," I said, quickly. Perhaps too quickly, judging by the look Sebastian was giving me.

Sebastian tossed back the rest of his drink. What in the hell was Milford doing? The man had just given her a viable excuse. He could not help wondering if Milford was somehow involved in this debauchery as well.

"What is this, a trial?" Devlin asked indignantly. "Sebastian, are you now the judge as well as the jury?"

"Leave it!" Grayson had enough. "We are not getting anywhere with these accusations." He rubbed his forehead. He was getting a bloody headache. "Sebastian, you and Milford were outdoors. Katherine, you were off looking for Sebastian, and he was looking for you. We know what you were both doing, but Devlin, what were you doing when you were taken?"

"Huh?" Devlin tore his gaze from Katherine. "Oh right, I was on my way inside here but then I saw a woman fleeing from the house. I thought Katherine was trying to get away from you." He glared at Sebastian. "Of course at the time I had no idea that was her name." He beamed at Katherine and then continued his story. "Of course, I had already realized she was not Marguerite," he boasted. "I do have very good investigative abilities, you know." He paused for effect. "Although, I will admit it did take some time to realize the obvious differences between the two but I was not fooled for long." He flicked his gaze in Sebastian's direction. "I am of course, a quick-witted person so it did not take as long to figure it out as I am sure it would have most people." He lifted his brow. "Say, Sebastian, how long did it take you to figure out she was not Marguerite?"

"I knew she was not Marguerite when I returned." Sebastian glared back at Devlin.

My fingers tightened on the arms of the chair. He had known that long and he kept looking. I stared at him until his gaze slid back to mine. "Thank you," I mouthed.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "You're welcome," Sebastian mouthed back.

A surge of irritation flared in Devlin as he watched Sebastian make googly eyes at Katherine. He wanted to punch the dimples right off the do-gooder's face.

"Devlin, where is Judith?" Isabelle asked, forcing her mind back to present.

"Judith?" Devlin squawked out her name, the pitch of his voice far too high. "How would I know?" he added defensively. "The last time I saw her, she was running off with your cloak and jewels."

"What?" Isabelle yelled out in shock.

"Oh, right...sorry..." He made a face. "I was looking for you and instead happened upon Judith. We had words, and then I left," Devlin said offhandedly.

"You left her where?" Isabelle queried.

"I left her at the ravine," Devlin said.

Milford and Sebastian looked at one another in surprise, their eyes round.

Devlin did not notice. "I was done being a pawn in her games. I had no idea she was such a scheming whore."

Isabelle scoffed. "Oh please, you expect me to believe you had no knowledge of what kind of person she was?"

"Well, perhaps a little," Devlin amended. "You know Isabelle, everyone deserves a bit of redemption." Devlin's chest tightened. "You are no paragon of virtue either, you know. You have not always stayed on the righteous path," he snapped, feeling guilty. "We all make some mistakes once in a while."

"Not as many as you!" Isabelle yelled.

Devlin flinched. He did not deal well with screaming women. She was so like Judith in that way; she never knew when to shut the hell up. "I did what I needed to survive!" he argued. "What, pray tell, was your excuse? Do not try to act the innocent with me, Isabelle! You knew what I was when you met me!"

"Yes, I knew what you were!" Isabelle said, her defeat evident. "What of it, Devlin?"

"Cease, both of you, please!" Grayson put a stop to the bickering. "Where is Judith now? Is it possible she was the one that took you Katherine, or you Devlin?"

"I have no idea who Judith is," I answered weakly but no one was listening.

Devlin shook his head. "No, it was not Judith. Judith may be a lot of things, but she is not a lunatic..." he trailed off to ponder that for a moment. "Well, maybe she is a bit mad, but no, I know it was not her," he said finally.

"That settles that. It was not Judith. What about the legend?" Grayson asked. He realized he must have spoken the magic word, for all eyes were suddenly riveted on him.

"Legend," I squeaked and then clapped my hand over my mouth.

"Yes, the legend of Ravenhurst," he said as though it had been told a hundred times. "I heard the tale some time ago. I remembered being especially intrigued since my property borders yours, Sebastian, and yours as well, Isabelle," he said in a matter of fact tone, like it was known by all.

"I do believe it went something like this..." he said. " Locked within for all time, no other will be allowed peace of mind...until the key is found."

"Ah, yes, the legend," Devlin piped in. "I always wondered about that. Now what are they looking for?"

I gaped at Devlin and Grayson like they both sprouted three heads. How in the hell did they know about the Legend? I thought it was supposed to be a secret.

"What legend are you speaking of?" Sebastian questioned in confusion.

"Are you kidding me de Winter?" Devlin snorted. "You do not know the Legend? It is about your ancestor." He gave Sebastian a look of disbelief. "Good Lord man, did no one tell you of your family's history?" He shook his head, wondering how Sebastian could be so clueless. Or was he hiding something?

"Apparently I do not," he said, bewildered by the prospect. He had no idea what Devlin was speaking of and he felt suddenly foolish. Why had he been kept in the dark? He turned away and went to get another drink.

"Well, I can not speak for Grayson, but I originally heard the tale from a hag selling her wares on the street. She had all sorts of little baubles and trinkets. I thought about getting something for Isabelle at the time, but found I was a bit short of coin and could not spare any on her wares."

Isabelle snorted.

Devlin shot Isabelle a scathing look.

"What was she trying to sell you?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

Devlin furrowed his brow, thinking. "Right. I remember now. It was a necklace. Yes, yes it was a necklace. It was rather large, though, and the red reminded me of blood, and the sight of blood turns my stomach." He shuddered. "I decided to leave it and went on my way."

"Yes, I believe I had a similar experience myself," Grayson interjected.

"How long ago was that?" Sebastian asked.

"I think a few months ago." Grayson said. "Why do you ask? Do you think this has something to do with this woman?"

"I am not sure," said Sebastian. "But was that not about the same time Marguerite disappeared?"

"I do not know." Isabelle looked contrite.

"Devlin, what say you? You think it was that long, or was it less?" Sebastian glared at Devlin.

"What? Oh, it could be." Devlin averted his eyes.

"Well? Do you think it was or not?" Sebastian persisted.

"Fine, yes, it was." He widened his eyes at Sebastian. "It was all Judith's idea, by the way."

"What was Judith's idea?" Sebastian queried, once again completely in the dark.

Devlin cleared his throat. "She was trying to get rid of Marguerite. Obviously she did not succeed." He pulled at his cravat nervously.

"When did this happen?" Sebastian demanded.

"On your wedding day...when she was in the gallery, Judith hit her. I thought Isabelle knew and would have told you by now." Devlin stared at his foot, afraid to see how everyone took his confession.

Isabelle's face showed her shock. Horrible thoughts of failure filled her mind. How could she have not known? Sebastian looked her way for an answer. She shook her head back and forth. "I did not know."

"What are you saying?" Sebastian demanded and turned back towards Devlin.

Devlin sighed. "Are you listening to me? I told you, she was in the gallery the day of your wedding. Judith apparently tried to do her in, but she failed. Someone was calling for Marguerite, so Judith left in case she was found out. When she went back to finish the deed, our lovely Marguerite was gone. Remember? I helped you search for her?"

"Yes, I remember you helped me search for her, but I, in no way, knew someone tried to kill her. I thought she left me."

"She did leave you," Devlin stated. "She was not in the gallery when Judith went back remember? She could have stayed and told you what happened."

"Did she know it was Judith that hit her?" Sebastian asked, disgust resonating in his voice.

"My best guess would be no. Judith would have snuck up from behind," Devlin said. "She is a sneaky girl."

"Devlin, you can not be serious," Sebastian said, feeling sick.

"I am completely serious." Devlin lifted his brows, giving Sebastian a look like he was stupid.

"Devlin, did it ever occur to you that she may have thought I was the one who hit her?" Sebastian felt like he had been the one hit. "She may have run, afraid if she stayed I would finish the job," he said, and then rubbed his hands over his face. He was in shock. He wanted to kill Devlin, really he did. But at the same time, he kept thinking that if Judith had not tried to get rid of Marguerite, would he be married to her now? Would he have ever met Katherine? He looked at Katherine, seeing her clearly for the first time. She and Marguerite shared distinct similarities but there were apparent differences as well. Katherine had a sweet demeanor and Marguerite's was acerbic. They really were complete opposites.

I wasn't sure what to make of the conversation. Marguerite was in the gallery too...was that the connection we shared? What of the legend everyone seemed to know about? Even Devlin had heard of it. And what of Sebastian? I had seen the expression on his face change when Devlin recounted what had really happened to Marguerite. I could see how upset he was. Were his feelings stronger for Marguerite than he had originally realized? Something tightened around my heart...I knew what it was...dread.

Milford lifted a shaky hand and steadied himself against the wall. If he did not he may well fall on his face. How could this be? Bloody Hell, what was going on? And then he remembered...

"Good Lord, man, what is the matter?" Devlin asked Milford. "You look as though someone has just walked on your grave."

Completely ignoring Devlin, Milford pushed off the wall, straightened his waistcoat, and walked from the room.

Devlin shrugged indifferently and turned his attention back to Katherine. She looked quite piqued as well. He leaned forward. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

"Yes, of course," I said, trying to process everything. "I am just hungry, I guess." I looked away quickly, wanting to scream. Food and the bathroom? Really? Seriously, those were the only excuses I could think of. I pressed my palms to my face to cool my burning cheeks. It did no good.

Devlin did not think she was merely hungry. And he was sure she was not in the bathroom when Sebastian was looking for her either. But why would she lie? And why were Milford and her both white as ghosts when the legend was mentioned? Unlike Sebastian, they both knew something. He could see it on their faces plain as day. The problem was he did not know what. He smiled suddenly. He had almost forgotten about his uncanny deductive abilities. It should not take him long to figure it all out, no, it should not take very long at all.

Sebastian braced his palms against the mantel, staring down into the flames as a million what if's tumbled through his mind. The problem was he was not sure he wanted to know the answers to any of them, at least not yet. He was completely oblivious of the effect his reaction had on Katherine or the fact that Milford had slipped silently from the room.

He walked over to the sideboard and poured another drink. He had a lot to process.

WHAT LURKS IN SHADOWS

Ravenhurst

MILFORD crouched awkwardly in the cramped alcove with only a suit of armor for company. He elbowed the armor and was rewarded with a sharp pain that shot up his arm. He let out another irritated sigh and rubbed his sore elbow as he looked towards the chamber Grayson and Isabelle were in.

Devlin's room was beside theirs.

Milford had no idea why he was watching their doors, but Sebastian was adamant that he, Milford, stay in the alcove, out of sight. Sebastian and Katherine were down at the end of the hall.

Apparently, after he left the library earlier, the group volunteered him to take the first watch for the night, just in case the lunatic decided to come back. That is what he got for leaving the room. He wondered why anyone would take Devlin. Perhaps he got in the way. But Katherine as well? It was almost as if a much larger force were at play here.

His stomach rumbled in the darkness. He rubbed his belly. He was hungry and he already lost feeling in his right foot. Reaching up, he placed his hands on the armor and pulled himself back to standing. It felt like tiny needles were poking the bottom of his foot. He thumped his foot on the floor and the runner muffled the sounds from his boot, but it did nothing to diminish the other sounds emitting from the across the hall. Someone growled in the darkness and Milford's entire body tensed. Then a loud howl of laughter followed, accompanied by a moan of pleasure. He poked his fingers in his ears and turned his face away from the door, but unfortunately, it did nothing to quiet the noise. He did not need to stretch his imagination very far to figure out what Isabelle and Grayson were doing to pass the time.

Milford smothered a groan of his own when he heard another moan...followed by a "Yes... yes...yes!"

He tried to rid his mind of the visuals he was getting. Good Lord, if he had to hear one more moan about the Duke's prowess in bed, he would be sick. He felt like yelling at the top of his lungs..."Have some regard for who may be stuck outside your damn doors listening! At least try to keep it down!" Even though he doubted Katherine and Sebastian could hear—but Devlin was in the adjoining room. And if it was that loud for Milford, just think how loud it must have been for him.

But then again, perhaps the scoundrel deserved at least a little of what he was getting, especially after the atrocious way he had treated Isabelle. By God, the man had locked the poor woman in her very own cellar. Oh well, perhaps Devlin should hear their love play, but he did not need to.

Disgusted, he glared at the door. His stomach rumbled again. He was famished. Unlike the others, Milford had no opportunity to eat anything for dinner earlier. He cast a wary glance down the hall and then back towards the stairwell. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he decided to run down to the kitchens for a quick bite. His excuse was that there was so much noise coming from across the hall it would likely scare the hell out of any assailant anyway. He shook his head and cautiously stepped out of his hiding place, past his armored buddy. He gave the door across the hall one last look of derision before turning and descending the stairs to the kitchens.

Unfortunately, he never saw the cloaked figure emerge silently from the shadows.

The fire in the hearth burned down, leaving only reddish-orange embers that cast a dim glow about the chamber. The dark blue bed hangings were pulled back on one side. Grayson gently caressed Isabelle's bare shoulder. Her arm draped across his chest and her long shapely legs tangled around his own under the blankets. They had only just found their mutual release moments before.

A chill swept into the room, bringing life to the dying embers in the fireplace. Grayson tightened his hold on Isabelle and lowered his lashes, feigning sleep.

A shadow slid eerily over the bed as a figure moved silently through the room to the adjoining chamber. The door opened silently and then the figure slipped inside.

This room was empty. Advancement was easier this way. Another door opened soundlessly into yet another room.

This one was not empty.

The cloaked figure's eyes filled with a fiendish gleam as it espied its target. Directly in the middle of the massive bed was the girl. She was curled up on her side with her knees pulled up to her chest. The figure cocked its head to the side, watching mutely, recalling another time, with another person looking much the same. A sad, bitter wave coursed through its body, accompanied by a severe pain throbbing from within as another pair of eyes opened and filled with rage. The shadowy form turned away from the bed, reassessing the room. There was another person in the room...the current Lord of Ravenhurst was sleeping in a chair in front of the fire with his back facing the door.

The satisfaction they had been craving for so long would finally be theirs for the taking. A barely contained jubilance spread through the assailant's body, bringing painful memories to the forefront of their mind. Gliding silently across the room, its gnarled hands pulled a long, steely blade from the folds of their cloak, moving even closer. The hands shook with emotion. After all these long years of waiting, they would finally have their vengeance. Vanquish all opposition in one swift maneuver. The steely blade glinted in the firelight as they prepared to plunge the blade into the blackened heart of their foe. Only then would they be free once and for all.

♦

Silently, Grayson climbed from his bed and hastened to pull on his trousers; then slipped on his shirt as he followed the shadowy form out of the room and into the next. The cold steel of his pistol was pressed firmly in his hand.

Everything happened too quickly.

A blood-curdling scream split the air and the steely blade of the knife plunged deeply into the chest of the hapless victim on the chair.

He was too late. Grayson took aim and pulled the trigger, firing a shot into the darkened room. He missed.

Grayson fumbled to dispense the second bullet.

Another blood-curdling scream split the air. The shadowy figure lifted the knife again and brought it down forcefully, plunging the blade even deeper.

Grayson raised the gun once again, and fired. This time he did not miss his target.

Milford ran into the chamber when the second shot rang out. He stumbled back, his ears ringing. Thoughts of failure wreaked havoc in his mind. Not only had he failed Sebastian, but all the others involved in the legend as well. His entire purpose for being here was for naught. The legend would never be brought to fruition. The sight before him crushed all hope from his heart. In front of him, Katherine lay on the floor, soaked in blood. Sebastian leaned across her motionless body.

Slowly, Milford walked towards the devastating scene. Tears rolled down his face, blurring his vision. He grabbed a chair for support. His chest tightened. Another Katherine moved from the shadows across the room. Her mouth was moving, but he could hear no words as she leaned down next to her own lifeless body.

A pool of blood seeped across the stone floor, soaking into the edge of the carpet.

The horror of the situation came crashing down on Milford. The roar of his heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears, drowning out all other sound. His mind balked at what he was seeing. "Oh no!" he gasped out in shock as the only reasonable explanation loomed right before his eyes, shaking him to his core. Katherine was dead and now he was seeing the poor girl's ghost.

Milford could not take the shock. They were already dead, every one of them. Or so he thought, and for the first time in four centuries, Milford fainted.

Sebastian heard a loud thud over his shoulder and lifted his head. He pulled his arm away from Katherine, and scrambled to his feet. "Milford!" Sebastian rushed to his side and leaned down. "Wake up, man!" He tapped Milford's face gently as he tried to rouse him.

Milford's eyelids fluttered open. Sebastian's face was a blur, fading in and out of focus. He gulped back another wave of dread. Was he a ghost too? It was just too much for poor Milford to process and he fainted once more.

"Grayson, help me!" Sebastian leaned down and grabbed Milford under his arms.

"What happened to him?" Grayson asked, helping place Milford on the bed.

"I do not know." He stood back and raked his hands over his face. "What in the hell was that?" he asked, turning. There was no answer...Grayson was gone.

♦

"Isabelle!" Grayson ran from the room. He rushed into their room. She was not there. He poked his head in Devlin's room. "Have you seen Isabelle?"

"Grayson...wait!" Devlin tried to pull himself from the bed. "Bloody Hell!" In agony, he fell back onto the mattress. "What is going on?"

"I am sorry Devlin, I do not have time. I have to find Isabelle." And with that, Grayson disappeared from sight, again.

♦

Lying in a growing pool of blood, still holding the knife in her gnarled hand, the disfigured woman was only a few feet from me. Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision. "Oh my God." I turned away and wiped my eyes. A moment later I heard a strange scraping sound and bracing myself for the gruesome sight, I turned back around. My breath fled my lungs. A puddle of blood remained but no woman.

"Where did she go?" I scrambled up to my feet. My eyes fell on the side of the bed where Sebastian was standing. The woman was right behind him. Her arm raised in the air, the long knife was plunging towards his back as he leaned over Milford on the bed. I tried to yell, but my voice failed me, as did my feet when I tried to move. It was as though something was stopping me from interfering.

"Victoria Nooo!" Isabelle screamed. "He is my son! He is MY SON! Not Clive's!" she screamed again, frantically now, begging, as tears slid down her face.

The disfigured woman stopped her knife in mid-air, mere inches from Sebastian's back. Slowly, she turned and looked at Isabelle...listening.

"I swear he is nothing like Clive. I swear to you on all that we once shared together. Please put the knife down, Victoria, please," Isabelle begged her friend from so long ago, sobbing as tears blurred her vision. She tried to envision her friend, as she once was—breathtakingly beautiful.

There was no beauty left now, only an awful disfigurement.

Images of another time came into Isabelle's mind—Victoria, laughing in the sunlight with her hair blowing gently in the wind. The violet color of her eyes was just as beautiful, but one eye sagged down, hanging lower than the other one. She looked like a monster. Isabelle bit back her revulsion, fighting the sickness in her stomach.

Sebastian was frozen in place. He heard Isabelle scream. Who in the hell was she talking about? And why in the hell was she screaming like a lunatic? Then he turned and saw a knife hovering above him. He knew he should do something, but for some reason, he could not. Instead, Isabelle's words registered slowly in his mind...her son.

The woman lowered the knife. It fell from her gnarled fingers and clattered loudly to the floor. "Isabelle," she said hoarsely and reached out her hand. She stumbled forward and collapsed onto the floor.

Isabelle ran over and knelt down beside Victoria. She carefully lifted her dearest friend's head and gently placed it in her lap.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes. Reminded once more of the broken porcelain doll she came upon so many years before...

MEMORY RAVENHURSTTHE PAST

"Oh Isabelle, do you think he will come with us?" Victoria asked excitedly.

"Does it really matter? I promise we will have a grand time, with or without Clive," Isabelle said halfheartedly.

"But you promised," Victoria complained.

Isabelle wished Victoria would get over her fascination with Clive. He was not good for her. "I know, but even I ca not make Clive do something when he doesn't want to."

Victoria smiled, lifting her brow at Isabelle in challenge

"Fine, I will think of something," Isabelle said, relenting. Victoria could talk her into anything....

Then her mind came crashing back to the present. She ran her hand across her friend's brow, pushing her hair away from her disfigured face as her blood seeped into her gown, turning the material red. She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. How she wished she had been stronger that night. She wished she were stronger many other times in her life as well. "I am so sorry for not being strong enough for you," she cried out suddenly. "Please forgive me, Victoria, please forgive me," she begged, sobbing uncontrollably now.

Victoria reached out her gnarled hand and gently caressed Isabelle's cheek. She gave Isabelle a secret smile, the one she always gave her. "It is not your fault," she whispered hoarsely, then coughed, sputtering blood.

Isabelle used her skirt to wipe the spatter of blood from Victoria's face. She shook all over, trying to contain her emotions. Victoria's face was not the perfect canvas it once was. And even though her eyes were tormented, Isabelle still recalled the girl she once was and hugged her friend even closer. She leaned in, close to her ear, and whispered secrets they only shared with one another. These secrets were for Victoria's ears alone.

Victoria gazed up at her friend, smiling, her face resuming the innocence of the girl she once was, full of beauty and life. And for once, the other voice that constantly plagued her subsided.

Isabelle's lips quivered as she smiled back at her with all the love and tenderness she was feeling. "It is going to be all right," she assured her, gathering her limp body closer to her chest. She rocked her back and forth, as a mother would a child. Tears flowed freely down her face all the while.

Victoria let her demons go. Her mind felt complete for the first time in so many years. She closed her eyes, relishing the comfort her friend offered her once more. As the last dregs of life drained from her body, Victoria Elizabeth Duprè found peace in the arms of the only person she ever truly loved...Isabelle.

LOSS

Ravenhurst

THE full wrath of the storm was upon Ravenhurst. It blew in a frenzy of wild abandon, making the trees crash against the windows, banging out their own fury as the wind howled with eerie delight down the deserted corridors. It was a perfect setting to mourn the loss of Victoria Duprè.

"Would someone please assist me downstairs before I fall to my death?" Devlin called out indignantly from the top of the stairs. "I will not be kept up here like a prisoner. Do you hear me?" he called out again.

No answer.

"Is anyone listening to me?" His voice took on a distinct whining edge this time.

Sebastian gritted his teeth, the tension in his shoulders palpable. "I am not getting that blathering idiot, so do not ask." He gave Isabelle a dark glare.

I fidgeted with the fabric on the arm of the chair as I restlessly bounced my leg under my gown. I darted a quick glance up at Sebastian. He was facing the fire, his profile stern, unreadable, his shoulders tense; he looked ready to snap.

"Someone please...help me," Devlin called out again.

I wanted to go and help him down the stairs but I did not dare, not with Sebastian in the state he was in. I wasn't real sure how he was handling what happened upstairs. He did not say a word to anyone after the confession/incident. He looked so distant, I wanted to help him, but had no idea what to do.

Grayson was about to say something but he heard Devlin again, his own shoulders tensed this time. "I will get him," he said to no one in particular and left the room to retrieve Devlin.

Devlin clutched onto the railing with both hands and leaned over as far as he could so his voice would carry the farthest distance. He opened his mouth, ready to let a really good holler go when Grayson materialized at the bottom of the stairs.

"Do not," he warned. He shook his head and mumbled in irritation. "My God man, you sound worse than a woman."

Devlin clamped his mouth shut and tensed from the off-putting remark. Under normal circumstances, he would have parried back with a verbal blow of his own, but Devlin may be many things, a fool he was not. If he did not keep his mouth shut, he may very well be stuck up here, all alone, for the duration of the storm.

It was already bad enough that he had had to endure the horrific sounds coming from Sebastian's room when all hell broke loose. He did not know what was going on the entire time. He thought he would go mad with worry. He tried to see what was happening, but stumbled on the rug and was unable to get back up. He was in no hurry to repeat that particular performance, so instead, he stood patiently and waited for Grayson.

"Devlin, this may hurt a little," Grayson said as he easily lifted him into his arms.

Devlin was not easily surprised, but when Grayson hoisted him into his arms, he could not stop his awe from showing. Content, he wrapped his arms around Grayson's neck, and for the first time in his life, had the oddest sensation of security.

Grayson walked into the library and settled Devlin onto the settee, carefully.

Devlin had no idea how to react to such kindness. Therefore, he did the only thing he could think of. He smiled up at Grayson with all the gratitude he felt and gave him one of his rare, real smiles.

Grayson chuckled at the boyish grin on Devlin's face, realizing for the first time that he was not such a bad sort after all. He had to resist the urge to ruffle the top of Devlin's head as one would a small lad as a show of affection. He shook his head. The stress of the day had obviously caught up with him. He walked away and stood next to Isabelle.

I saw the exchange between Devlin and Grayson and was instantly relieved. At least someone else seemed to have come to a similar conclusion about Devlin as I had. Devlin, in all seriousness, was not much more than a child in so many ways. The smallest kindness shown to him turned the wastrel into a child seeking approval.

Sebastian thumped his fingers on the top of the mantle. One, two, three, four...it was not working; he needed answers. He turned from the fire, his face a façade of calm indifference but someone with an assessing eye would notice his anger simmered just below the surface, ready to explode at any given moment. "Would someone like to tell me what in the hell just happened up there?"

Devlin rolled his eyes. "Were you not listening?" he asked Sebastian pointedly, annoyed. "Grayson just carried me down the stairs. Good Lord, Sebastian, you should really pay closer attention to what people are doing."

Sebastian gritted his teeth...he was going to kill him. He wondered where the woman's knife who tried to kill him was. If Devlin did not shut up, he would use it on him. "I am not talking about that. I am talking about the woman in my room who tried to make me a bloody pin cushion."

"Well, I was not in there per se, but it would seem she wanted to kill you," Devlin supplied.

Sebastian counted backward from ten as he exhaled.

"That was my friend, Victoria, Marguerite's mother," Isabelle stated numbly.

"Could you please explain why she tried to kill me?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"Who did she stab?" Devlin asked.

"No one. I made a dummy," Sebastian gritted.

"Good thinking," Grayson said.

Devlin rolled his eyes.

"I am waiting, Isabelle," Sebastian said tersely.

"I really can not say," she answered in the same monotone voice.

Sebastian gaped at her. "You really can not say...really, Isabelle?" He laughed then, but it had a bitter edge to it. "Or shall I call you mother?" He waited for an answer. Nothing. It was typical. "Well, which is it?"

"Oh God, Sebastian, I am so sorry," Isabelle gushed, wringing her hands together.

"Sorry?" He widened his eyes. "What are you sorry for? That you are my mother or sorry she was trying to kill me?" he asked bitterly.

Isabelle visibly flinched. "For both!" she yelled, her voice breaking. She sounded completely mad. It did not matter. The constant front she had put up all these years was now crumbling to bits. She broke down and covered her face, her body wracked with anguished sobs.

"There, there, it is all right." Grayson sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her.

Devlin shuddered and clenched his hands together. Her crazy outburst instantly reminded him of his own mother and brought forth yet another unhappy memory of his own childhood. Maybe he was not too off base when he locked Isabelle up in the cellar. Apparently, she was only a few steps away from becoming a permanent resident in Bedlam. He let out a shaky breath; his hand shaking slightly as he lifted it to smooth a nonexistent wrinkle from his shirt. Well, it was a good thing she had Grayson, who seemed able to tolerate Isabelle's insane outburst because Devlin knew with certainty he could not.

"It is all right." Grayson gathered Isabelle closer in his arms until her sobs quieted. "You must tell him," he said, already guessing most of the burden she had been carrying for so long.

Isabelle lifted her watery gaze to his handsome face and drew strength from him. She pushed up from the chair and held it for support. "Everyone, I have something to tell you," she began, her voice cracking. "Please hear me out before you ask any questions. I am afraid I will not have the nerve or strength to continue if I am interrupted." She exhaled another shaky breath as her face took on a faraway look. "I originally met Victoria abroad. It did not take very long for us to become close friends. I was actually amazed that she wanted to befriend me at all. She was beautiful, beyond compare, and I was immediately enamored with her. Not in the way a man and a woman are, but to me, she was perfect in so many ways. I guess I was also in awe of her beauty. She was breathtaking." Pieces of Isabelle's dark-blonde hair fluttered around her face as she released another shaky breath.

"Anyway, when we finally returned to London, she was informed it was not safe to return home. She was French, you see, and we were at war with France. I invited her to stay on at Ravenhurst until it was safe for her to return to her own country." She paused and shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. "We did have the grandest times," she continued wistfully.

"Clive was just as enamored by her beauty as I was. At first, he escorted us to parties and such. He even took both of us to our fittings for the latest fashions. Still, I had no idea what Victoria ever saw in Clive. He was not a very nice person but he did have something. Everyone clamored for his attention and Victoria was not immune either. I never saw it." She shook her head.

"Victoria seemed to think the sun rose and set on him." She paused and laughed bitterly. "He never reciprocated her feelings. Actually, he thwarted her advances at every turn. She was the most magnificent creature either of us had ever encountered, and yet he pushed her away. And even though he was seemingly uninterested, he still indulged us in our whims." She sighed.

"Of course it all changed soon enough. I am still not sure what really happened." She stopped talking for a moment, trying to remember.

"Right, I remember, the first signs of autumn were beginning to appear. It was the first real outing, you see, to start the season off in style. It set in motion a line of soirees we were planning to attend in the upcoming months. Everyone was excited, except for Clive, of course. He decided not to go with us. This simply crushed Victoria, making her go to extreme lengths to persuade him to go. She used her wiles to try to sway him, and coax him into going. But once Clive made up his mind, no one, not even Victoria, could change it. Her usefulness apparently had ended with the summer. She was no longer a diversion for his dark moods. He declined again, adamant in his decision."

Isabelle clamped her hands together to stop their shaking. "Um, yes, well, we still made ready to go out without him. I was glad he was not going. I knew we would have a much better time without him. His moods were like the wind. No one ever knew when they would turn into something dark and dismal." She paused, her mind straying to the past.

MEMORYTHE PAST  RAVENHURST

"Isabelle, you look ravishing...if I were a suitor, I would sweep you into my arms and carry you away with me on my white stallion, just like Lancelot," Victoria said, flourishing her arm and bowing in front of her.

"If I had a suitor he would more than likely be riding a black stallion with a tarnished suit of armor," Isabelle said with a cynical tone.

"But he would be so handsome it would not matter..." Victoria said, laughing.

Isabelle could not help but get caught up in the foolish fantasy. "Yes, he would be dashing and handsome...and money would be of no consequence because we would be hopelessly in love..."

♦

A tear slipped from her eye at the memory. She brushed it away with her fingertips. "I am sorry. I find I have gotten lost in my own thoughts." Shaking her head, she continued onward. "Victoria bowed out at the last minute as well, feigning a headache. I was worried about leaving her. I knew somehow she should not have been left alone with Clive, but I so wanted to go. My own selfishness did that to her," her voice broke with another fresh onslaught of tears. She covered her face, her body shaking.

Grayson walked over and pulled her hands from her face, leaning forward. "Isabelle, it is not your fault, you were a young girl as well."

Isabelle sniffed, trying to keep more tears from falling. "I really have no idea what happened that night. When I finally did come home, I found my dearest friend lying on my bed, looking so much like one of my broken childhood dolls." She lifted her hand imploringly. "I was young and naïve, I had no idea..." The tears came in earnest now, rolling down her face. She used the palms of her hands and pushed them away. A surge of anger bubbled to the surface. "That was no excuse. I should have done something, but I did not. Instead, I crawled into bed with her and gave her the only comfort I knew how to give and when I awoke the next morning, I did not know what to think. She was gone. I had hoped it was all just a terrible nightmare, but it was not. My dearest friend, my only friend was gone...forever."

She lowered her voice to the point it was almost inaudible; her eyes were shining too brightly. "I was going to kill him. I had the gun," she said, lifting her hand in front of her. "It was right here in this hand...I could have pulled the trigger, but...her mind drifted back to the past...

MEMORYTHE PASTRAVENHURST

"What are you going to do Izzy? Hmm...you going to kill your only brother, and for what? That whore. You know she used you. I caught her in the stables, lying in the hay with one of the stable lads. It was disgraceful how low she would stoop to satisfy her carnal urges. It was disgusting. I did not want you to have to bear witness to that kind of immoral behavior. I sent her away before the gossipmongers got hold of her indiscretions and slandered your good name right along with hers." He stood and pressed his hands against the desk and leaned forward, his sandy-blonde hair falling down across his brow.

"I did this for you, little sister. For you," he repeated. "That is how great my love for you is." He pushed off the desk and raked his hand through his hair as he began to pace. "I had become quite fond of her as well." He sighed heavily. "Imagine my surprise, no my mortification, when I went out for an unexpected ride and found her in the throes of passion with a lowly commoner." He shivered in disgust. "You are better off without her. You will see." He took a deliberate step in her direction. "Now give me the gun Izzy before you hurt yourself."

♦

Her mind came back to the present. "I believed him even though I knew on some level he was lying to me, and still I did nothing. It was easier that way. It was easier to forget..."

She took a breath, reached out a shaky hand to the chair behind her, and sat on the edge. "I may have even forgotten her for a while. Things went on at Ravenhurst as though she never existed. Once in a while, I would think of her but I forced Clive's words to my mind and instead of being overcome with sadness I held tightly to my anger instead. I chose to believe Clive's lies and I almost forgot...almost...

MEMORY*THE PAST*HAWTHORNE MANOR

"Yes, Charles what is it?" she asked, looking up from her reading, a PENNY DREADFUL entitled The String of Pearls: A Romance, about the demon barber of Fleet Street, SWEENEY TODD. It was one of her guilty little pleasures.

"A missive was delivered to the kitchen for you," Charles, her elderly butler, said as he shuffled his way across the room.

"What on earth for? There is a perfectly good entrance to Hawthorne."

"Yes, well, it was a small lad. I think he felt more comfortable going around back to the kitchen's Madam."

"Oh, that type of delivery. Well, I hope you offered him a meal for his troubles."

"Yes, Madam, he is eating a nice luncheon as we speak, awaiting your response to the missive."

He walked forward and handed the envelope over.

Isabelle took it and used the letter opener to break the wax seal. She did not recognize the crest on it. Once it was opened however, she did remember the handwriting...she lifted her hand to her chest, her face draining of all color.

"Madam, are you all right."

She looked up at Charles. "Yes, yes I am, Charles. It is a surprise." She saw the lines of worry etch his brow. "It is a happy surprise Charles, no need to worry."

"Well if you say so Madam," he supplied doubtfully. "Will that be all Madam?"

"Yes, of course. You may leave." She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh and Charles..."

He stopped in the doorway and turned around, his brows lifted in question.

"Be sure to give the lad a few coins for his troubles, and have one of the maids come fetch my reply for him at two o'clock."

"Very well." He bowed his head and walked out of the room...

She breathed a weary sigh, as her mind slipped back into the present.

"Well...? Go on...you almost forgot...and then what?" Devlin asked impatiently.

Isabelle lifted her eyes from her lap. "Oh, she sent a missive."

Devlin leaned forward to hear what else she would say but she merely sat quietly in her chair, saying nothing. "Isabelle?" he called. "What did the letter say?"

"She needed my help."

Devlin scoffed. "The nerve of some people." He shrank back like a reprimanded child against the cushion of the settee when Grayson cut him a disagreeable look from across the room.

"What did she need help with Isabelle?" Grayson nudged.

"She needed me to look after Marguerite, her child. I had instantly thought the child was the stable lads, but as I read the missive, I found out who the real father was."

Devlin gaped at her, not believing she was just going to leave the story there, right on a cliffhanger. He hated those types of endings. "Isabelle, who is the father?"

"Was."

"What?"

"Who was the father," she corrected him.

"What? Is he dead or something?" Devlin joked, not realizing she had already answered the question.

She laughed. It bordered on hysterics. "Why yes, yes he is."

"I can not take the suspense a moment longer...who was he?" Devlin asked, leaning forward.

"Clive, my brother," she responded in a deadpan voice.

Devlin's eyes rounded and he pressed back further into the cushions. "Oh," he said, his mouth forming a perfect "o."

Her brow creased and she shook her head. "I sent a response immediately, begging her to join the child and stay with me as well." The words rushed from her mouth as she finished her tale. "I am not sure what happened but shortly after that, I received another missive informing me that she was dead, and somehow I knew she had taken her own life. Apparently, I was wrong once again."

"What did Clive do when you confronted him?" Devlin asked intrigued by the story.

"Oh, he laughed at me."

MEMORY*THE PAST*RAVENHURST

"You dirty liar! How could you!" she railed at her brother as she stormed past the doorman and into the library where Clive was seated behind his desk.

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him as he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. "I assume you are speaking of your so-called friend."

"You...you are the one who slept with her, not the stable lad."

"Please Izzy, how gullible are you. Just because I may have had a tussle or two with the girl certainly did not mean she did not already spread her thighs wide for someone else. I can assure you her body had been well used before I even gained admittance. I practically fell in."

"That is not true. You are lying. She never slept with you, she...she would have told me!"

"Really, then how is it exactly that you are accusing me of being her bastard's father then. If it makes you feel better, I can always say I did not sleep with her. It was not very memorable."

"You disgust me."

He shrugged. "So which is it going to be? Hmm? You planning to tell the Duke about my little indiscretion, and what of our little understanding? Would you like me to tell the Duke of that as well? I mean if we are to be honest and if your conscience demands that truth..." he said, letting his words trail off.

"You promised."

He laughed and then dropped his hands and leaned forward. "Then we will call it even. I keep your little dirty bastard, I mean secret, and you keep mine."

"Are you not curious about Victoria? You were smitten with her for a while, I could tell."

"There you go again Izzy, spinning more of your fanciful tales. Perhaps you should start writing some of them down. I bet the Penny Dreadfuls would publish a story or two for you. Of course, you would have to take a pseudonym. Oh wait...your stories are not sad are they? No, of course not. They are filled with childish fantasies about romance and Knights in Shining Armor." He leaned back and smiled beatifically at her. "How's the old Duke filling those shoes Izzy? Do you envision one of your fantasy lovers while the old Duke pounds away on your young self, day after day, night after night? His old sagging skin puckering from your touch..."

She lifted her fingers and plugged her ears. "Stop it Clive. Please."

He sighed. "Oh Izzy."

"She's dead you know."

"Is she? Huh. She really was quite lovely...at least she was for a while."

Isabelle unplugged her ears. "Why did you say that?"

"Why did I say what?"

"For a while...you said she was a beauty for a while...like you thought she was not any longer."

He shook his head. "The wrong choice of words I suppose." He lifted up his drink and took a long pull from the glass.

♦

Once again, her mind came back to the present and she turned her gaze on Sebastian. His handsome face mirrored her own in so many ways. She wanted to fall to her knees and beg his forgiveness but instead she lifted her chin a notch, swallowing the urge like she had for so long it had become second nature to her. "I do not know why Victoria would want to hurt you." She shook her head in confusion. When Grayson reached out and took her cold hand in his, the walls came crashing down. Her cries were muffled against Grayson's shoulder as he gathered her into his arms, giving her what comfort he could.

THE LIES WE TELL

Ravenhurst

MILFORD pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it to his brow that was now covered in a light sheen of sweat as his own memories came back to haunt him.

Once he finished, he methodically folded the handkerchief back up into a tiny square and tucked it neatly back into his pocket. Time was up. He needed to say something but he was not altogether sure how he should go about it. Finally, he decided and jumped in with both feet. "I think I know what happened," he blurted out.

After he had everyone's attention, he turned his world-weary gaze on Isabelle. "I honestly had to piece together much of this information. I had no idea... Isabelle, I am truly sorry for keeping this from you," he added with meaning, lifting his hands helplessly in the air. "I was here at Ravenhurst that evening, but unfortunately at the time, I had no knowledge of what had transpired. Victoria's maid, Lisette, searched me out and asked for my assistance in helping her. She told me she heard voices coming from Clive's room, which I can attest was no surprise, once you left the house, Isabelle. He would entertain his friends when he thought he was alone, you see." He left his statement open ended, letting them fill in the blanks.

"From what I could gather from Lisette, Victoria purposely stayed behind that evening to be with Clive. They had been in clandestine relations for most of the summer." His voice faltered and he cleared his throat once again, shifting awkwardly. "Apparently, when she went to his chamber, things did not go as she had hoped. You see, she ah, found Clive and several of his ah, companions, in various stages of undress...one did not have to stretch their imagination very far to know what was transpiring between them."

His voice faltered again. "Things went downhill steadily from there. When she confronted Clive, he had a good laugh at her naiveté. She would not let it go and began yelling at Clive, calling him all sorts of reprehensible names. I believe with Clive's temper she may have pushed him a bit too far and, as recompense, he made sport of her in front of his friends. They may have even partaken as well, I can not be sure, and neither was Lisette. Whatever transpired, I am sure it was not what the poor dear wished for...or expected." He shook his head sadly. "I asked the maid why she did not do something to help her, but she was so afraid. She said that Victoria was a genteel lady and if the men could do that to a lady, she was terrified what they may do to her, a simple maid, for interfering."

"So Clive made sport of her with his friends?" Isabelle shook her head, her lip quivering. "That monster," she hissed, balling her shaking hands into fists. "That explains part of it but what of her beautiful face?"

"Yes, because I can assure you she was not beautiful when I saw her," Devlin added insensitively.

Milford sighed sadly, shaking his head. "Lisette told me she could not see very clearly but after the, ah, episode, Victoria must have lost all reason. She tried to attack Clive, but he was simply too strong. He easily tossed her away from him. Victoria lost her footing and fell face first into the sharp metal screen that surrounded the fireplace. It cut her face open pretty badly."

"She could have gotten stitches, why did no one call for a doctor?" Isabelle asked, wringing her hands in her lap.

He swallowed hard. "Clive...ah, apparently laughed at her and told her that now that her beauty was gone, no one would ever want her again. He called her a monster."

"No." Isabelle gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Yes, well, that comment seemed to push her completely over the edge. She attacked him full on, clawing at his face, and chest. Unfortunately she was still no match for Clive; he was simply too strong."

"How did she get back in my room?"

"Clive instructed one of the maids to remove her from his room and to pack her things. He said she was going off on a one-way carriage ride to Bedlam. He told the maid she had lost her mind. So Lisette snuck out of the shadows and dragged her from the room. She cleaned her wounds as best she could and put her in your room Isabelle, hoping to hide her until she could make other arrangements for her. She knew if she went to Bedlam, she would never be coming back...ever."

"I say it sounds like this Lisette may have saved her life," Devlin piped in, completely engrossed with the story.

Milford patiently waited for Devlin to finish his commentary and then finished his story. "After that she searched me out and told me what had transpired. I quickly set about making arrangements to have her sent away, to get the medical attention she would need, but you came back in the midst of our preparations...but you seemed unaware of the extent of the damage done to her poor person."

"Why did you not tell me, Milford, I could have helped, taken care of her...?"

He shook his head apologetically. "I know. I wanted to...but Victoria was adamant. She did not want you to know. I am truly sorry, but Victoria had us whisk her away while you slept," he said sadly.

"Marguerite was born approximately nine months later. We can only assume whose child she is, was. We hoped the child would pull her from her unresponsive state, but that was not the case. I heard Victoria disappeared once for a few days, and not surprisingly, that is when Clive met with his untimely demise. I suppose Victoria had her revenge after all." He shook his head once again. "I will tell you this, I was not sorry when that day came either," he said with sincerity. He looked back to Sebastian and then to Isabelle. "I am so sorry I did not tell either of you but I did not see what good could possibly come of telling you the horrors done by that man. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me."

"Oh Milford..." Isabelle shook her head and stood. She walked over and hugged him. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear and then pulled away and walked back to take her seat beside Grayson once more.

Sebastian raked his hands over his face and let out a throaty gust of air. He was angry, horrified, and saddened so deeply by the injustice done by this man. The same man he thought was his father until... He jerked his head around and looked at Isabelle. If she was his mother...was Clive his father? No! That could not be...could it? He felt sick. He looked over at Isabelle, his anguish etched on his face.

"Sebastian?" Isabelle called out, shaking her head in denial. "Clive is not your father."

Sebastian shoved his hands in his hair, relief flooding his body as he bent slightly, "Oh, Thank God!" He stood again and pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to erase the horrible visions imbedded in it. He walked over and grabbed a decanter, the heavy crystal familiar in his hands. He paused, looking into the dark liquid swirling in the bottom. He poured a glass and tossed it back, then set the glass down. He kept his back to the room as he spoke the words that were haunting him. "Isabelle, if you are my mother, then why in the hell did you want me to marry my first cousin?" he asked incredulously, feeling sicker by the moment.

Isabelle's face fell. "Oh no, that was not my intent. Clive is not my true brother, at least not by blood."

Sebastian's spine went rigid as he turned towards Isabelle. "What in the hell are you talking about now?" he demanded.

"Sebastian, please...it is too much, I can not...," her voice broke off as she wrapped her arms around her stomach.

"Well, I have nothing but time. Do tell, Mother," he scathed out.

Isabelle wrung her hands together, looking towards Sebastian and then back to Grayson, wondering if the small bit of happiness she so recently found would be gone if she told the truth of it all. Still, she owed her son an explanation.

Isabelle relayed a long twisted tale, baring her soul to her son. She recounted that Clive was a bastard and not her blood brother. She told Sebastian how her own mother never even slept with her supposed father for he was too busy bedding the maids, whereas her mother was too busy sleeping with most of the Ton. It was not a love match...purely a joining of two houses that so often happened among the titled aristocracy.

I pressed back deeper into the cushion of the chair, making myself as small as possible. I couldn't help wondering what Sebastian must be feeling to hear how his own mother pretended to be his aunt, instead of claiming him for her own. Of course, Isabelle had said she did this for Sebastian so Clive would claim him as his own heir and therefore he, Sebastian, would inherit Ravenhurst and all of its entailments.

"Who in the hell is my father then?" Sebastian gaped at Isabelle.

Isabelle closed her eyes and then took a deep breath. "I am afraid I do not really know." She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. "I was very young."

"And apparently very busy," he scoffed. "Are you kidding me with this?" He shoved his hands into his hair. "Then this place, this home you have shoved down my throat, is actually Marguerite's heritage?" He widened his eyes at her when she gave him no response, which was all the clarification he needed. "Well, isn't that just perfect," he said and then laughed. It was a brittle sound.

"This is your home, Sebastian. It always has been. Although Clive was not your real father, he recognized you as his rightful heir. Clive and I had a deal. This place and all of its entailments belong to you." She made a sweeping gesture with her hand to encompass the room. "Marrying Marguerite was a bonus. She would have her rightful place as mistress of Ravenhurst and you would have a lovely bride. I saw it as a win-win situation."

"So you made a deal with a monster?" he asked, appalled. "Wonderful, perfect, that is what every son wants to hear his mother confess," he added in a sickened voice. He felt bereft, disgusted.

"I did it for you Sebastian," she cried out as tears rolled down her face once more.

"Well thank you Isabelle, for thinking of me," he said with all the disdain he felt before he turned away.

Devlin watched Isabelle flinch as though she had been struck. He felt for Sebastian, he really did. He knew what it was like not to know who your father really was. To be told he would someday come for you and never to have it realized. And as much as Devlin hated to admit it, he knew they both had a lot in common. They were kindred spirits. That insight made Devlin shudder.

Sebastian ran his hand over his face. He looked at Katherine and shook his head. It was too much to process. He walked over and poured another drink. He downed it in a single gulp. He needed to think. He needed to get away and process all that had happened. Without thinking, he grabbed another bottle and walked briskly from the room. He did not bother to look at a single person as he made his exit.

I leaned forward in the chair and watched Sebastian stalk away, out of the room, maybe out of my life. I could see and feel the pain he felt, maybe not as profoundly as he felt it, but I could still sympathize. I tried to get him to see I was on his side, but his face was a mask. He shut down. It was as if he closed a door. I could no longer see anything I recognized. What was I going to do? He walked out without even looking at me. Of course, I could understand, but it still hurt. I wanted to help him, but had no idea how to do it. I could not even help some poor knight. I breathed out a sigh of defeat.

"He just needs a bit of time alone, you know," Devlin said casually, breaking into my reverie.

I turned towards the settee. Devlin's face was disturbingly pale and again he looked like a lost soul. There was a lingering sadness in his eyes but something else as well...was that pity—for Sebastian? "You think so?" I asked finally.

"Yes, I do. He has a lot to process. I am finding Sebastian and I have much in common these days, and not only our taste in women."

I rolled my eyes. "You could not do it, could you?"

"What?" he asked, and widened his eyes innocently.

"Can you be nice?"

"Of course I can be nice...to you," he added with a sweet smile.

I gave him a dubious look and then stood. "Would you like a drink?" I asked over my shoulder as I headed over to the sideboard.

"Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you," he called out.

I lifted the decanter to pour two glasses of scotch. I needed something to settle my nerves; stifle my grief for Sebastian's predicament. The dark liquid swirled in the bottom and I took a long drink. It didn't burn at all this time.

PAYING RESPECT

Ravenhurst Cemetery

THE late afternoon sun's rays broke through the clouds, sending streaks of light streaming down on the group assembled on the snow-covered hilltop.

We were paying our respects to the woman who had passed into the hereafter-just hours before. Isabelle was sobbing. She tried to say a few heartfelt words, but the frigid winds of the north tore them away and scattered them across the burnished horizon.

I yanked on my cloak and pulled it more snugly around my body as the wind tried to rip it away and steal my breath at the same time. I was standing a few feet away from Sebastian, his greatcoat thrashed back and forth in the wind. His rugged profile reflected the somberness of everyone in our little group.

Ravenhurst was a beacon and cast ominous shadows upon us all from behind, a constant reminder of the mistake made so long ago. I shivered as coldness spread inside of me. Time was running out, and still, I had no idea what to do. I was utterly helpless.

BEFORE THE STORM

Ravenhurst

ONCE the short service was over, everyone went their separate ways. Sebastian still had not spoken to me, and by the look on his face, I doubted he would anytime soon. The length of my gown was wet from the snow outside. Lifting the bottom, I walked slowly back to my borrowed room. I took a breath and opened the door; it bumped against the wall and creaked on its hinges.

The room was chilly, or it could have been that I was merely chilled from the events of the day. Still, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling being in the room and went to check behind the curtains. I even bent down to look under the bed. When I straightened, the little ugly cherubs ganged up on the bed seemed to be taunting me with their little fat faces.

"Stop staring at me!"

I shook my head. Maybe I was losing it after all. I had even resorted to talking to the gargoyles and fat-bellied cherubs, which was absolutely ridiculous. Still, I felt like I needed someone to unload my own problems on...it was better than carrying them with me everywhere I went.

I wished I knew where Sebastian was, I felt like he might need someone to talk to as well. Sighing, I walked to the bureau, and riffled through the drawers to find clean undergarments and a gown. Instead of seeking him out, I decided to take a bath and give him some time to sort his feelings out. Besides, I needed time to mull over her own future, or lack thereof.

How could I put the legend to rest when I had no idea what the legend was about? How did Grayson and Devlin know of the legend? Was there a connection? And what of the woman selling her wares? Were these all coincidences? There were a few too many, if you asked me, and what of the striking resemblance between Marguerite and myself? Good Lord, even Victoria looked similar.

That, of course, made sense where Marguerite was concerned, because she was her mother, but where did I fit into all this?

"It must be the amulet...wait...Key?" Was that it? Was it that simple? Did I need a key to unlock the door below? Was that where I would find my answers, behind a massive door? Where was the key?

God, I did not want to go back into that pit, either. Visions of Marguerite in horrible places flitted through my mind and I rubbed my forehead. My head hurt...my body wanted to see Sebastian and my mind wanted answers to all the questions. Each was at war with the other. How could I change so many lives? How could I be responsible for the outcome? I finally gave up trying to figure out everything at once and went to take a bath.

After the bath was drawn, I climbed in and stayed there, letting the warm water soothe my aching muscles as my mind wandered, bouncing the riddles through it, mixing, matching, trying to make sense of it all.

Find the door ~ the key is found

~Unlock the door ~ time will be bound

~Locked within for all time ~may no other be allowed peace of mind...a third to lock it once more?

Marguerite was the first, and then she showed up, making it two... Who is the third? How did Marguerite make it to the future? Did she have something to do with it? Is bound the same as bouncing through time? Hurdle...Jump—where was a thesaurus when you needed it? Maybe the words meant something different in this era.

I was getting nowhere fast. I climbed from the now-cool bath. I decided I had to talk to Milford again. He must have some answers. Perhaps I should ask Devlin again about the woman on the street. Of course, if Sebastian caught me speaking with him, he would surely get the wrong idea and I didn't want to be responsible for causing any more distress in his life.

Not having any answers readily available, I dressed in another one of Marguerite's childlike gowns. It was all ruffles and lace. Delicate embroidery accented the edges. I felt foolish and tossed on a robe to cover the gown. Grabbing the brush, I sat down in front of the fire and brushed my hair out.

A gust of cool air drifted across my body and the flames in the hearth shifted to the side. I shivered, not from fear, but awareness instead. Slowly, I turned. Sebastian was standing in the doorway.

He pulled the door closed. His footsteps made only the slightest noise on the carpet as he walked across the room. He sat down on the chair and picked up the brush. Slowly, methodically he began to brush my hair.

I closed my eyes. Up and down, up and down, the brush slid through my hair. I tingled from head to toe and my heart thumped wildly in my chest as he continued his silent assault on my senses until I could not stand it a moment longer, and then the brush stilled.

Turning, I looked up into his haunted eyes. There was so much pain and sadness in them. I wanted to take away his hurt. I wanted to make him forget everything that was causing him to look that way. I turned around between his muscular thighs and climbed up on my knees.

Blankly he stared down at me.

Taking a breath, I lifted my hand to his face and ran my fingers over the crease between his brows. He closed his eyes. Leaning forward, I kissed each closed lid, each brow, trying in my own way to absorb his pain. He didn't move, not a muscle and reminded me of one of the many statues scattered throughout the vast halls of Ravenhurst. The firelight sent shadows across his exposed chest. I slipped my hand down inside of his shirt. His skin was hot to the touch, and smooth. Exploring, I lowered my hand. Inch by inch, my hand lowered until I reached the top of his pants.

His breath hitched in his throat and he opened his eyes. Moving closer, his lips hovered inches above my own but he did not touch them.

"What do you want?" his voice came out as a whisper as his warm breath wafted across my already heated face.

"I want...you...to kiss me," I blurted.

"Hmmm..." His brow hitched up a notch. "I will see what I can do about that." He lowered his mouth. Eluding me, tempting me, he slowly dragged his tongue lightly across my lower lip.

I tried to move closer. He pulled back to look at me. His stormy, gray eyes smoldered just beneath the surface. "I am not playing this time," he said brusquely. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

I nodded, unable to speak. When he lifted my robe from my shoulders, I did not object. His fingers glided gently across my skin and left a fiery trail where he touched it.

Sebastian undid each button of my gown and pushed the fabric over my shoulders. The gown slid down my body and caught on my hips. His fingers slid underneath material and he pushed it all the way to the floor.

Cool air, sent shivers over my heated bare skin. I was not embarrassed or afraid. I was beyond caring.

Reaching down, Sebastian undid the remaining few buttons from his shirt and shrugged out of the fabric.

I couldn't help but stare at his magnificent chest. It was bare except for that slightest hint of hair that trailed down in a line and disappeared into his trousers. To me, he was absolute perfection. Nervously, I ran my hands over the sleek skin. His muscles bunched under my fingertips. As I unbuttoned his pants, my fingers trembled above his rigid erection outlined very apparently under the fabric.

"Stand up," he instructed.

I stood up and my body was completely exposed to his lingering stare. Smoldering passion filled the depths of his stormy gray eyes. Lifting his hand, he caressed my breast with the tips of his fingers and shivers of pleasure shot through me as my nipple puckered in response. He leaned forward and closed his mouth over it, sucking the delicate skin as his other hand slid over my butt. He gently squeezed and then he delved down between my thighs where I was burning to be touched.

"My God, you are so beautiful," he breathed and slid his hand up until his fingers barely touched the soft curls between my thighs.

Breathing heavily, I reached down and unfastened the last button on his pants, releasing him fully. His length was hard against my hand, throbbing. I dragged my fingers lightly across the tip.

He groaned and roughly yanked me forward. After that, everything was a blur. My body reacted before my mind could think a thought. Twining my fingers in his hair, I cradled his head as he kissed my breasts. "Oh God," I cried out when his mouth closed around my nipple once more. I had no idea where my propriety and modesty had gone. In their place was a woman burning with desire that I never even knew existed.

Pressing me back to the floor, he laid me down on top of my robe. Standing, he removed the rest of his clothing and his magnificent body glistened in the firelight. He kneeled and as he came down on top of me, his long hair fell forward as he seized my mouth with his own.

Any trepidation I had vanished completely. I pulled him closer and his muscles flinched under my hands. His erection rubbed against my belly as he kissed me hungrily. He wet his finger. Reaching down, he slid it inside of me.

"So sweet," he breathed and covered my gasp as he kissed me and increased the pressure. As he delved deeper with his tongue, his finger slid further, moving faster. In and out, in and out, he tantalized and tormented me and I writhed in response.

"I can not wait," he murmured.

"It is all right."

He leaned down and kissed me deeper, hungrily and then he pulled his hand from between my legs and in one swift thrust, he filled me completely.

"You feel so damn good," he murmured. He was beyond himself, beyond feeling the pain that was crushing him earlier. He was slipping away into something else. Desire ruled him as he slid into her again, harder this time. All thought fled his mind, leaving only feelings. He grabbed her hips and lifted her legs around his waist more securely, lifting her higher in the air, leaning back on his knees. All the hurt and anger rang out as he pumped wildly into her pliable, willing body.

I knew I should be feeling at least a little pain, but there really was none. I only felt his need for me, his desire, and frustration. I held onto him as he lowered me back to the floor and repositioned himself above me. Lifting my hands, I slid them through his sweat-dampened hair, as I stared up into his stormy, gray eyes, I tried to take every bit of hurt from him and make him feel the love I felt for him instead.

Sebastian closed his eyes, his body jerked wildly as the last threads of his control slipped away. He grabbed onto her tighter and gripped her hips roughly. He wanted release, he wanted to cum but something held him back even though the fire grew.

Leaning up, I bit his shoulder and sucked his salty-tasting skin as I dug my nails into his flesh, scratching his back, thighs, and buttocks as he thrust deeper, harder, frantically searching for release. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but couldn't yet. I love you, my mind screamed and my body responded.

Sebastian fought for release and pressed her legs further up, and buried himself deeper. Her nails dug into his skin, harder. It did not matter. None of it mattered. He was in a frenzy. She bucked under him, seeking the same end he was fighting for. Within seconds, he felt her tighten around his length. He silenced her cries of pleasure with his mouth, as he kept thrusting, not able to slow his pace as he desperately sought his own release. Sweat rolled down his face and chest as she clung to him, her body still tightening around his length as the last spasms of her climax rippled through her. He kept up his rapid pace until finally he too felt himself falling over the edge. Groaning in pleasure, he exploded inside of her and then collapsed in her arms.

I held him tightly, relishing the greatest moment in my life.

It was everything I hoped it would be and more than I could have ever imagined.

THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD

Ravenhurst

MILFORD descended the stairs to his secret hideaway and let out a sigh of relief. The time was getting closer, and soon the legend would be laid to rest, or at least part of it. Once inside, he sat in his favorite chair, tucked away in his private haven, and thought for the first time in four centuries that everything may end up as it should be. Sleep came easily to him as he drifted off into a blissful slumber.

♦

Isabelle sat in the center of the massive bed, wringing her hands. Grayson gave her a reassuring smile as he discarded his clothing and climbed in beside her. She leaned into the crook of his arm, welcoming his strength and comfort. He was all she could have hoped for and more. He did not judge. He took all he heard in stride, and for that, she was so thankful.

She did not know what she would have done had he looked at her differently. But instead of indifference, she found he looked at her with more emotion than he had before.

Had she finally found, after all these years, her perfect companion in life? She was hopeful. She closed her eyes and drifted into an uneventful slumber.

All the worry and unease vanished as his arms held her tightly to him.

♦

Devlin was back in his room, lying upon the bed, sorting through emotions he did not even realize he had. Perhaps Sebastian was not at fault for all the wrongs done to him in his life.

He knew deep down that Sebastian was not the cause, but he did represent all the things Devlin wished he had. Now hearing the poor man's own fate by others in his life, he felt a swell of admiration for him, even sympathy. It was a foreign feeling, to be sure. He closed his eyes; the woman on the street so long ago flitted through his mind.

The legend gave him pause. Were they all involved? Was this supposed to happen all along? Or was it merely a coincidence? He did not know for sure, but he knew he would need to ponder it for a while.

He closed his eyes. Images of an enchantress with violet eyes that turned to blue dazzled his mind as he drifted off into his own realm of sleep.

SCATTERED HERE AND THERE

Ravenhurst – The Following Morning

WHEN the morning sun made an appearance around the edges of the curtains, Sebastian relinquished his hold on Katherine with a great deal of reluctance, and climbed from the bed. Visions of their night of passion entered his mind, making him uncomfortably hard once again. He had never felt this way before. Surely, he had his way with many desirable women in his life, but nothing could compare to the wild abandon he felt with her last night.

He could not help but wonder who taught her the intimacies shared between a man and woman. From her enthusiastic display the evening before he would bet she had done the act quite a few times. He looked at her lying in bed, seeming so small in comparison. She still looked so innocent, even though he knew firsthand she was not.

His gaze drifted to her beautiful lips, the very ones that suckled his skin, absorbed his moans of pleasure, and made him forget for the briefest of moments. He rubbed his hands over his face and then dropped them to his sides. She was breathtaking. There was no doubt about that. After their rigorous lovemaking he was exhausted, but sleep did not come as readily to him as it did to her. When he did finally drift off, it was a restless sleep.

He reasoned he was merely unsettled from everything he had learned that day and who knew, maybe it was. But there was a part of him that wondered if it was because she had given herself to someone before him. That those moans of pleasure she cried as her body tightened around him were not actually because of him but merely the act itself. Had she made the others she slept with as insane with desire as she had him? And even now, he was so damn hard, the rigidness of his erection pressing against his trousers was almost painful. He wanted to take her right now, in the early morning sun. He wanted to roll her over and spread her legs wide, settling himself against her as he had the night before. He wanted to make her cry out his name; make her forget every other man she had been with before him.

He reached down and adjusted himself. He was so angry. He found he was full of righteous indignation. Not only did he have to face the knowledge that his father was not his father, and his aunt was now his mother, but the woman he may very well be in love with had lain with another before him. He raked his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Probably many others," he muttered angrily and turned away from the bed. He glared down at her robe on the floor and finally bent down to pick it up. As he tossed it on the chair behind him, he could not help but wonder if that is what he should do with her as well. Toss her aside. The gown she wore was in a heap on the floor. He looked at it and thought he should just leave it.

Maybe he should leave her as well. Perhaps he should go back to London, and let her go back to wherever she came from, which was probably Bedlam, with her fanciful, unbelievable tales.

Letting out a slow stream of air, he bent over to pick up her rumpled gown off the floor. He shook it out and was about to toss it beside her robe when he saw that a light smattering of red marred the pristine fabric.

Relief flooded him.

Thank God.

He folded the gown up and placed it on the chair, and patted the top. He knew he was foolish for being so damn happy about such a little thing but still could not help a ridiculous smile from breaking across his face as he walked towards the door. He paused at the bed and brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek before he turned and left the chamber.

It looked like it was going to be a fine day after all.

LOVE IS THE GREATEST GIFT OF ALL

Ravenhurst

THE bright morning sun warmed my skin as I woke slowly. Sitting up, I stretched and yawned. I was no longer on the floor, but in the bed. I looked next to me but Sebastian was not beside me. Rolling over, I buried my face in his pillow and inhaled his scent that still lingered there. I hugged it closely as visions of our night of passion pushed every other thought from my mind and replayed each wonderful moment.

Finally, I released the pillow and pushed all the wicked thoughts of his body and mine together from my mind. There were things I needed to do this day, legends I needed to lay to rest. I climbed from the bed and looked for my robe. I found it draped haphazardly across the chair, with the childlike gown folded on top of it.

I lifted up the gown and blood spatters marred the front. I groaned with embarrassment. The urge to jump back under the covers and hide for the duration of forever was tempting, but then I posed a question to myself instead.

"Would I do it again?" Well that's a no brainer.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

♦

Devlin could get used to this kind of treatment. Now that the servants had returned, he was waited-on hand and foot. He could not complain. Two footmen carried him down to the library after he bathed and got dressed. Fully revived and clean, he was now enjoying a strong cup of tea. No, Devlin thought this day was near perfection and he was enjoying it immensely, even if Sebastian was standing just over his shoulder. He noticed Grayson and Isabelle had yet to make an appearance. Grayson reminded Devlin of a randy old goat. He chuckled, shaking his head and took another sip of his tea. He could hear the Duke in action and was quite surprised he was such a virile man. Good Lord, he was old enough to be his own father. That thought gave him pause, as it always did.

Grayson was the type of man Devlin hoped his father had been. He was kind, strong, handsome to be sure, and most of all, accepting of people's shortcomings in life.

Yes, Grayson was exactly the type of man Devlin would have wanted for a father. He shook off the desolate feeling that passed over him. He made up his mind; nothing would ruin his mood this day.

♦

Sebastian drank deeply from a strong cup of coffee in the library. It was delicious. He forgot how much he enjoyed the taste of freshly brewed coffee. Now that the staff had returned, they would all be able to enjoy a decent meal and a fresh cup of coffee. Funny how one took so many things for granted, never truly appreciating them until they were gone.

He found the comparison similar to the disappearance of Marguerite. Although she was not in any way what he wished for as a bride, he still wanted no harm or ill will to come to her.

After what Devlin revealed about what Judith did to the poor girl, on his wedding day no less...well it was unthinkable. Sebastian felt like the worst sort of person. The only emotion he felt from hearing Devlin's admission was an overwhelming sense of relief. He could not help it; he was not interested in Marguerite.

He thought again about his night of passion with Katherine and smiled into the fire. He had to push those thoughts out of his mind, else he would go right back up those stairs and have his way with her again.

There were arrangements to be made. He needed to make sure everything would be in order. It was much easier now that the staff had returned. He immediately set the maids to cleaning, and the cook planning an extravagant meal for the evening.

♦

As I walked slowly down the hall past the armored knights and many closed doors, I paused at the top of the stairs. Once again, I had a bird's-eye view of the foyer below. Maids were running with armfuls of linens and a footman carried a large silver candelabrum across the room. Smoothing my gown, I took a deep breath and descended the stairs. I had to admit I was a little disappointed we no longer had the house to ourselves. We had become such a close-knit group in such a short time, almost like a family, one I never really had.

Grayson was the father I never had, Devlin a brother...I smiled, amending that a kissing cousin was probably a more suitable name. And what of Isabelle? I could not bring myself to think of her as a motherly figure, that was for sure, but perhaps an aunt. And Milford...dear, sweet, sneaky Milford, who knew so much more than he was telling. What was he like...yes he was like a friend.

A dreamy sigh escaped me, as my mind drifted to Sebastian. What did Sebastian mean to me? He was...is....everything I could have wished for. He was my heart, my love and now my life. I only hoped, no, I prayed he felt the same way. If not I was pretty much screwed. As I sidestepped Joey, i.e. the Gargoyle, I realized he didn't scare me anymore. Maybe things were looking up. Maybe...

CARRIED AWAY

Ravenhurst

THE library door was open as I approached. The first person I saw was Devlin; he had a slight smile on his face as he sipped something from a delicate porcelain cup. He looked well rested, his face serene; he was obviously lost in his thoughts.

And then there was Sebastian. My heart stuttered as I looked at his imposing form. His broad shoulders strained against the dark fabric; his profile contemplative. I wondered what he could be thinking and my stomach flipped over on itself. Would it always be this way? I had to wonder. Taking a bracing breath, I stepped into the room. For the first time it was Sebastian who turned towards me, not Devlin. I tried to read his expression. Are you happy to see me? Or do you wish me gone?

I was acutely aware of time passing; I could hear the tick, tick, tick of the clock across the room. The thump, thump, thump of my own heart as it picked up pace, urging me retreat like I had so many other times but I forced myself to stay put, I had to know. I wasn't going to second-guess my decision. No regrets. No, for once I was going to wait it out and see what happened.

An instant later, his brooding stare turned into a welcoming smile. I smiled back with all the emotion I was feeling.

Devlin lowered his cup and turned his head towards the doorway. Again, he was a bystander. He noted how lovely Katherine looked in her gown and he did not miss the look of uncertainty that crossed her face when she looked at Sebastian. And for the briefest of moments he thought that maybe, just maybe, things were not working out between them.

Of course, it was only moments before his hopes were dashed. The way they were looking at one another now, he knew in his heart he would never have a chance. They were both head over heels in love, desperately so. It was almost uncomfortable to watch. He turned away, unable to stand the sight any longer.

He sighed heavily. It would seem his perfect day was turning bleak around the edges. He glanced back towards them for a moment more. Oh but Katherine looked so happy; hell, Sebastian looked happy. Devlin would be happy too, if he were in Sebastian's shoes. Oh well. He took a bracing sip of his tea, letting the warmth soothe him as he finally accepted the truth. It simply was not meant to be. Someday he would find someone to love, who loved him as well. Hell, if the do-gooder could do it, why not Devlin the rogue? He chuckled to himself. Why not indeed?

It was only moments before Sebastian closed the space between us and was now towering above me. I leaned back to look at his handsome face and as usual my breath caught in my throat. His steely gray eyes glittered with intensity, making me chilled and hot at the same time.

"Good morning," he said, sounding amused.

"Ah...good morning." My gaze drifted to the expanse of white fabric covering his muscular chest as my hands itched to slip inside his shirt.

Sebastian wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and peel her conservative morning gown off her delectable body. He lifted his hand, placed it under her chin, and rubbed his thumb across the softness of her full bottom lip. He felt the all too familiar swell in his loins as he looked at the rise and fall of her perfectly proportioned breasts. No more than a handful...a perfect handful. His fingers itched to delve into her gown and feel them again. He groaned as she visibly shivered from his touch, her vivid blue eyes locking with his own with a look of insatiable hunger and a touch of curious wonderment.

Hell, he was curious too. He had to wonder if it would be just as good as the evening before or if she would be reserved and aloof in the light of day. He was not above testing her on that measure. He needed to know if his reaction to her was real or if he was a victim of circumstance from the turmoil he had been going through. He was not sure what he wanted to believe...the former or the latter. If the truth were to be told, either reaction scared the living hell out of him. He decided to go all in, see what she was made of. If in fact they did belong with one another or if she was merely a passing fancy, he needed to know and now was as good of a time as any to find out.

He lowered his hand and brushed her long curls over her shoulder. "We need to talk," he said, trying like hell to hold himself in check.

"Okay." Suddenly very hot, I waved my hand in front of my face. "It is a little warm in here."

He chuckled. "Yes, it is," he readily agreed, feeling rather warm himself. "I see the temptress of the night turns demure in the light of day."

Sebastian knew he had to speak with her, but his eyes strayed to the delicate swell of her breast, bringing the remembrance of the sweet curve of her buttocks...how he would like to press his face between her thighs. Would it taste as sweet as her mouth? He could not help but wonder. Would she scream out his name in ecstasy, or would she squirm away? He put his arm behind her back, pulled her closer, just for a moment, and pressed her pliable body against his own.

Devlin cleared his throat loudly. "Hello, good morning," he called from across the room.

Sebastian tensed and stepped away from her.

All I wanted to do was to step up to him again and wrap my arms around his neck. Beg him to touch me as he did last night. Good grief, what happened to me? One roll in the hay and my body betrayed my mind. I couldn't keep the look of disappointment from my face as I looked up at him once more.

He raised a perfectly arched brow to me in question.

I felt like he could read my mind. My stomach flipped over on itself. Maybe I was hungry. Oh yeah, that's it. Who am I kidding? Stupid food was the last thing on my mind. I was hungry all right, but food would not even begin to satisfy this particular hunger.

Sebastian watched as the play of emotions she was feeling clearly wrote themselves on her expressive face and debated his next move for less than a minute before he reached down, took her hand in his and pulled her all too willingly from the room as Devlin's voice followed in their wake.

I heard Devlin call out, but I could not hear what he was saying, and truthfully, for once, I did not care, not one little bit. As Sebastian dragged me up the stairs and down a hall that I had never ventured before, I had to take two steps to his one to keep up.

The hallway was dark and there were only two doors that I could see. He stopped in front of one and twisted the handle, the heavy door squeaked loudly as it swung open. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me inside the darkened room. With my body smashed up against his, I barely had a chance to take a breath before his mouth came hungrily down on top of mine. I slid my hands up over his shoulders and pulled his jacket.

He lifted me in his arms and walked forward; and pressed me back against the hard wooden door. Then he turned the key in the lock and then braced his hands on either side of my body. "I have been dying to do this all morning," he said huskily and then lowered his mouth to claim mine once again.

It was another searing, breath-stealing kiss. His tongue pushed in, delving deeper. The velvety warmth enveloping me as I kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm. His hands slid down my back, and then he gripped me tighter as he pressed his forehead against mine.

"Tell me, were you waiting for this as well?" He nipped playfully at my chin and neck.

"Yes." Surges of desire shot through me with every nip, every lick.

"Damn," he murmured hotly, leaning into me. "You taste sweet." He slid his lips down my neck, kissing the delicate skin at the base of my throat.

Arching against him, I pressed in closer. Frantic with need, and want, my fingers tugged at his jacket desperate to feel his exposed skin.

"My sentiments exactly," he laughed, and began to work the buttons on the front of my gown; his fingers caressed the delicate skin with each button. Stopping briefly, he shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. And then his hands were back on the front of my gown and mine were trying to open the buttons of his shirt, neither of us making much progress. Everything was moving too slow.

"Too many damned buttons," he groaned, running his hands over my breasts, toying with my nipples through the fabric. "This is not going to work," he said, and grasped the edges of my gown. One sharp tug and the fabric ripped, buttons flew off in every direction, pinging against the walls and floor. "Sorry," he murmured and claimed my mouth once again.

I tried to do the same to his shirt. I tugged, pulled, and got nothing. Not even a tiny tear. Everything was taking way too long. I boldly went straight for his trousers instead. My fingers fumbled over the buttons as I tried to release him.

"Let me." He reached down and released himself.

I took his hard length in my hands and marveled a the feel of his velvety skin.

"Careful love." He pulled in a swift intake of breath.

"Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, your fingers are just c...old," he said, but the word turned into a groan when her fingers tightened around his length. Lowering his mouth back to her breast, he gave her a little payback, teasing her nipple with his tongue, wetting the tip and then blowing gently, making it pucker.

"Not fair...," I couldn't stop the moan of pleasure erupting from me as he sucked even harder. Reaching up, I cradled his head, and clenched fistfuls of his hair as ripples of pleasure washed over me.

One-handed, he reached down, pulled her gown up, and used the other to slide over the rounded curve of her derrière, squeezing the soft flesh.

"My God..." He pulled her undergarments out of the way. Lifting her leg, he reached down between them both and slid one finger inside her, making her gasp in his mouth. The need to be inside her was too overwhelming. "I can not wait." He pulled his finger back out and thrust into her body again in one swift movement. Her head banged against the door from the force.

"Are you all right?" He moved his hand behind her head.

"Yes." I nodded.

Sebastian eased back and then pushed inside again just as slowly, as he claimed her body for his own once again. Intense pleasure coursed through his as she squeezed against him. Every ounce of control he had, dwindled away as he began to lose every ounce of control.

His hips pumped faster, harder. My head banged against the door, as did the rest of my body. But it didn't matter. What mattered was the way he was making me feel. I felt wanted and wicked, as I held on, feeling every muscle in his body tense underneath as he slid back and forth with swift, deep, strokes.

"That feels incredible," he exhaled in pleasure while her mouth suckled and teased his nipples with her tongue. The action spurred on his more basic, primal desires and he went wild, driving into her harder...faster.

"Sebastian...."

Clenching his buttocks, he continued to pump into her. Again, he was beyond reason, beyond comprehension, he was completely enraptured in the throes of passion. Animalistic abandon consumed his body and mind, spurring him onward towards his own spiraling climax. "Oh God," he moaned, thrusting faster, harder, burying himself deeper, sweat dripping and splattering down his chest, until he too found his own earth-shattering, mind-blowing release.

Breathing heavy, Sebastian released her leg and her gown slid back into place, rustling softly on the floor. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. "Good morning," he said at last and leaned down, stealing another kiss from her sweet lips.

Every muscle in my body felt like jelly. "Good mooorning," I stretched out the words and then started to laugh.

"That was... WOW!" I said, not even able to begin to elaborate what that had felt like. Every moment had felt sooo good; my entire body felt exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.

His dimples made an appearance as he smiled down at me and my stomach swooped from the sight.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself?" he said laughingly.

The sound was deep and warm, making me want to press my face against his chest, wrap my arms around his waist and never, ever let go. I was completely, unequivocally, head over heels in looooove with him.

"Well...YEAH!"

He pulled me into a brief hug, and rested his chin on the top of my head.

"Was it ah...good for you?" I asked suddenly unsure, and rested my face on his chest. .

He laughed again, his bare, sweat-dampened skin shifted under my face and rumbled deep inside. "Yes."

He turned thoughtful for a moment. Yes. He repeated in his mind. It was such a small word and a definite understatement. Sex with her had been...so many things at one time it was hard to put a name on it...unforgettable was about as close as he could get. That realization bombarded him with another barrage of questions. He had put her to the test and she far surpassed any limits he had set for her. He felt himself slipping, falling...he was out of control, but there was nothing he could do. She said she was from the future and he wanted to believe her even though it was utterly ridiculous. Maybe in her own mind she thought she was. He exhaled.

What of the supposed legend? What was her part in that? He had no answers. The real question he needed to ask himself now was what was he going to do about it? He disentangled his body and stepped away from her.

I wiped the wetness from my cheek and then tucked the sweat-dampened pieces of my hair behind my ears. He was giving me a strange look. Self-consciously, I fixed my gown so my boobs weren't showing. The fabric was torn so it didn't work very well. I leaned against the door. I felt really shaky, like I had been doing a massive workout for over an hour. Granted I never worked out, at least not in the real, "I am a hardcore fitness junkie" sense of the word. I was a junkie all right... "A chocolate—coffee—fast food—designer clothing junkie." But exercise? Not so much. Once I'd taken a spinning class with Janice and almost dropped dead. I told Janice my heart was not supposed to pound that loud or hard and my thighs, butt, and body in general were sure as hell not supposed to ache for so long afterward. It took two weeks to get my body to feel slightly normal again...but Janice had assured me it was all part of the "No Pain, No Gain" dictum.

Right. With Janice's apparent stamina, it was no wonder there was a line of men waiting outside her proverbial door.

As Sebastian set his clothes to rights, I looked around the room we were in. It was a pretty room. French blue, hand-molded walls, delicate Marie' Antoinette-looking furniture and a grouping of floral paintings on the far wall. "Whose room is this?"

Sebastian shrugged back into his jacket and looked over his shoulder, seeming to notice for the first time where we were. His eyes widened for the briefest of moments and averted his gaze.

What did he do that for? I felt sick suddenly. What happened to his warm smiles? Oh, now he was frowning. It was going to be bad. I could feel it. Oh, why did I have to open my mouth?

I glanced around the room again. Was I being paranoid? It was just a room. Just a really- pretty French-looking room...my mind screeched to a halt and backed up. It dawned on me, whose room it had been. I reached down, smoothed a wrinkle from my gown, and then straightened. I took a breath and held it until I couldn't hold it in any longer. Then the words tumbled right out of my mouth even though I didn't want to know the answer. "Tell me," I urged.

Sebastian glanced in my direction and then brought his attention back to his cuff. It must have been a magic cuff because for some reason he couldn't take his eyes off it. I was waiting for him to pull out a bouquet or an array of colorful hankies, like a magician.

He exhaled a rather large breath and then let go of his sleeve and threaded his fingers through his long thick hair and pushed it away from his face. "I did not think..." he stopped in mid-sentence. " We should get out of here."

"Why?" I prodded again. What am I doing?

"Please," he said none too nicely. "I am sure you are nipping at the bit to get back to Devlin," he added with a hefty dose of sarcasm and then he gave me a cutting glare.

I felt like he just kicked me in the gut. All the warm feelings of fuzziness from our lovemaking had quickly turned into something coarse and unwanted.

Suddenly an image of my favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Piddle, popped into my mind. It was a stupid thought from childhood. He was a white rabbit with patchwork pants. I did everything with him and loved him more than any of my other toys. One day I was serving "High Tea" to my toys, which was actually Swiss Miss cocoa with mini marshmallows. Mr. Piddle had gotten a hefty splash of cocoa and had to go off to take a long hot bath.

Unfortunately, once he came back, his snuggly fur was never quite the same. It was rough and coarse. Apparently, I vacillated quite a bit as a child because after that, my feelings for the poor unfortunate rabbit had waned and Mr. Piddle was stuffed away in an old box under my bed marked "Stoopid Toys!"

Now I couldn't help but wonder if the same would hold true for my feelings for Sebastian. Would they ever be the same or would I shove him into a box in my mind labeled "Stoopid Men." Ironically, there were a lot more men in my imaginary box, than in the real box of unwanted toys.

"I am not worried about getting back to Devlin," I uttered finally, barely above a whisper.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. He could not help but wonder why it took her so long to defend herself against his unfair accusation. Nervously, he fidgeted with his sleeve again as his mind filled with sudden dread.

He looked at her and her face was still flushed from their love play but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. He suddenly felt like an ass and scrubbed his hands over his face. "It is nothing Katherine. This is just a room. Can you not leave well enough alone?" he asked, he voice sounded frustrated, maybe even angry.

His crappy tone hurt more than I wanted to admit. I looked about the room once more. The room was not masculine in the least. The bed was lovely, with bright airy bed hangings covering the gilded edges of scrollwork and flowers. It was not the least bit ugly like the one I was stuck sleeping in.

The windows faced east so the morning sun could shine in the room every morning. Suddenly I couldn't catch a breath, I felt like I was suffocating. Turning to leave, I grabbed the handle to the door. The damn thing was locked. I jiggled the handles, trying to get the hell away from him before I humiliated myself and started crying.

He reached out and grabbed my hand in his own.

"I want to leave...let go...please." I turned back to look at him.

"I am sorry. I should not have said that." He let out an unsteady breath and released my hand. "This room is, was, going to be Marguerite's room," he finally admitted, albeit reluctantly.

"I thought I was in Marguerite's room now?" My brow creased in confusion, even though on some level I had already guessed what he just told me. Knowing this did not make his admission any easier.

"That was merely a temporary room...until we married." His eyes flickered briefly around the room and then he stepped forward.

I took a deliberate step back. The knife he had plunged in my gut earlier, twisted. No. no, no, this was the room they were meant to share as man and wife? And he brought me here? Ugh! What in the hell was he thinking? Seriously? I shuddered from the thought. I was an interloper, an imposter that was living the life Marguerite should have had. Waves of nausea hit me. I covered my face. "What am I doing?"

"It is not what you think."

"Really? What do I think?" I dropped my hands and stared at him in disbelief.

"I did not love her," he said, just above a whisper.

"Oh, and you love me?" I huffed out a bitter laugh. "You do not even know me. I am not even supposed to be here." Tears that had already formed in my eyes from the hopelessness of the situation began to slip out.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again.

"Do not bother to try to make sense of it. I do not even understand what is really going on. How do I fix what is wrong when I am not sure what is wrong to fix?" I pushed him away, shook my head.

"What happens when you fix this problem?" he asked.

"I have no idea. Who knows, maybe I will poof back to the future and you will forget you ever knew me." More tears slipped out and I swiped them away.

"Look at me." He stepped closer. His stomach twisted in knots. He could not lose her. He just could not. He had his answer, even if the why's or how's she was here did not make a bit of sense. All that mattered right now was the here and now. She was his and he would not, could not, let her go, ever. That realization in itself was staggering and not something he would take lightly.

He knew he had made a mess of everything with his callous remarks. He did not mean them of course, but he felt like he was cornered. And he lashed out, like he always did, trying to push her away. And if he was not careful, he would push her directly into Devlin's awaiting arms. He would be damned if that happened, so he needed to make her understand now what she meant to him before it was too late.

"I will never forget you, Katherine. You are my world now, and are not, will not be going anywhere." He reached out and turned her around. He shook her shoulders, trying to make her understand what he was saying. "I will not let you go...ever. Do you understand?" he said each word with finality. He gathered her in his arms. He could not let her go. She was his and that was that. At least that is what he told himself.

"Oh no..." Broken sobs slipped out. "That is what the knight said too!" I clung to his hard body and my shoulders sagged in defeat. "And that poor girl, she disappeared to God only knows where this time and now he is all alone."

"Who disappeared?" Confused, Sebastian shook her again.

"Marguerite, your real betrothed... He, the knight, loved her you see, and then she disappeared into thin air, and now he is all alone," I sobbed out the words, feeling again the suffocating devastation of the knight as I heard his cries in my mind all over again.

"I do not care." Sebastian looked down at her, and pulled her hand away. "That is his problem, not yours. You can not leave me," he added with conviction.

"Oh really, why's that?" I sniffed loudly as my tears finally abated.

"Because I intend on making you my wife, very, very soon." He pulled her body back into his arms and ran one of his hands down the length of her hair.

My tears dried up as quickly as they started and my mouth dropped open as his words finally sunk in. "Wait...what? You want to marry me?'" I searched his face to see if what he said was true, or was I hearing things? He smiled down at me and nodded his head for clarification. His heart-stopping dimples reappeared. "You want to marry me?"

"Of course I do," he said with sincerity. "How in the hell do you think I could go on without you in my life? You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am not going to let you go...ever." His voice quieted. "That is, if you will have me?" He lowered down on one knee and took her cold hands in his own. "Will you..." he trailed off. " I am sorry, what is your last name?"

A huff of laughter slipped from my mouth. "Jamison. My last name is Jamison."

"Jamison," he repeated as if he was accustoming himself to the name. "Will you marry me Katherine Jamison?"

"Katherine Nicole Jamison."

He lifted his brows. "All right," he said, and then cleared his throat. "Katherine Nicole Jamison...will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He lifted his brows expectantly, waiting for a response. She did not answer. He swallowed hard and tried again, his deep baritone voice not sounding as sure as it had moments before and he asked once again, "Katherine Nicole Jamison, will you be my wife?"

"Of course I will... I mean, yes!"

Relief flooded Sebastian. He wrapped his arms around her. "You, my sweet angel, have made me the happiest man alive." He stood back up, lifted her up in his arms, and spun her around in the air. Her gown swirled out around her ankles as he kept spinning her in circles.

I held on, hugging him closely as I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter that I traveled to the past to find him, if it was meant to be, it was meant to be...right? A feeling of dread passed over me but I quickly squashed it down.

He set me on the floor finally and kissed me once more before reluctantly letting go.

"Let us leave this place. We have a wedding to prepare for." And with that, he took my hand and led me from the room he was supposed to share with another.

# EVEN THE GOOD MUST COME TO AN END

Ravenhurst

DEVLIN gathered the last of his belongings and made ready for his departure after the wedding.

Grayson and Isabelle were kind enough to let him stay on at Hawthorne until he fully recovered from his injury. They planned to drop him there on their way back to Radcliff Manor, the neighboring property. He had no idea how he ended up so fortunate.

He was not going to question it overmuch as he did not want to tempt his own fate. Maybe, just maybe, life was looking up for him. He smiled, looking about the room the ceremony was to be held in.

The decorations were simply beautiful, exactly what Katherine deserved. He knew if it had not been for her kind heart, he would not be headed to Hawthorne Manor after the wedding. Instead, he would most likely be on his way to the gallows for the horrendous things he had done. There was hope for him, though. She saw it, and it seemed the others did now too.

Devlin whistled a happy tune, quite content with the way things had turned out for him. His thoughts drifted to Judith for a moment. Where had she taken her scheming self-off to?

# SECOND CHANCE

The Dreaded Ravine

"GET AWAY!" Judith screamed crazily and lashed her arm through the empty air.

There were nine dreadful, nasty buzzards flying around her head, diving, circling, and waiting for her to fall to her death.

With raw, bleeding fingers, she held fast to the rock that jutted out from the ledge. The weight of her stolen cloak made her progress slower than necessary, but she would not take it off. She would be damned before she did that. It did not matter that it was the cause of her falling into the ravine in the first place...well that, and of course, her insatiable greed. But if not for the cloak, she would not be here now. The hood snagged on a branch wedged in the rock-faced wall and snatched her away from an untimely demise. And while the storm raged, it kept her warm. That was already two marks in its favor.

Her stolen bag of jewels clanked loudly against the rocks as she climbed higher. She was almost to the top, but there was another rock that jutted out just above her head. How in the hell was she to make her way past that? She almost lost her resolve...almost.

Judith Alexandra Beauchamp may have been many things, but a quitter was not one of them.

She climbed away from the safety of the ledge, moving sideways. She looked up, and little pebbles started to rain down on top of her head. Dust was in her eyes. OH Bloody hell! Was a rockslide starting? She let out a desperate cry, her bloodied fingers slipping.

"Why me?" she sobbed loudly, clawing at the rock, struggling to hold on, her body shaking. "I do not want to die," she cried out helplessly and then suddenly, Judith did something she never thought to do before.

She prayed.

If she made it out of this pit in one piece, she would change. She would find a nice man and settle down, be a better person. Become an asset to society, not a detriment. Tears streamed down her face, and she was still slipping. "Please Lord, forgive me. I can change, I swear. Please help me," she cried out as her fingers slipped completely from the rock.

Weightless, her body fell towards the jagged bottom of the ravine as her short life over too soon—flashed before her eyes. And when she thought all was lost, she came to an abrupt halt.

"Lassie, I got you," Kinsley McGregor said as he held tightly to the girl's cloak and pulled her up to safety. "Sweet lass, are you all right?" he asked worriedly, and pulled her the rest of the way up over the ledge. Holding her tightly, he took her into his embrace.

Judith kept her eyes shut a moment, not convinced her feet were resting on the solid ground once more. She listened to the strong brogue of her savior: he was a Scotsman.

Judith was not a big fan of Scotsmen, but a deal was a deal.

She kept her eyes closed, squeezing them tightly together, thanking the good Lord over and over in her mind for sending this man to save her. She knew it was more than luck; it was a sign from above and she would not let Him down.

Calming her features to make sure her repulsion did not show. She knew what to expect, nothing short of a troll with beady little eyes and tufts of red, wiry hair poking from a nearly bald head. She would be lucky if he had teeth.

Yes, she knew it was her due and she should be thankful for it. She would make it work though. She had to.

After all, she would not go back on her word to the Good Lord. Not after he gave her another chance.

She forced her eyes open. Her breath caught in her throat. Her knees went weak and she fell forward.

The man holding her was without a doubt the most attractive man she had ever seen.

She closed her eyes quickly. Please be real. Please be real. Opening her eyes, she peeked out from under her lashes at her savior's rugged profile. She quickly shut her eyes again. Oh thank you! Thank you, Lord! She reached out and wrapped her arms tightly around the brawny man in front of her. She would not let him go...ever.

Yes, Judith knew there was more to a man than good looks, but if she had to be saddled with one for all eternity, it was a hell of a good start. Tears of relief ran down her face as he opened her eyes again.

Kinsley's heart fluttered as he looked down at the girl. Her eyes glittered like jewels, brimming with tears she had yet to shed. He smiled down at her and glided his thumbs over her cheeks.

Judith swallowed hard. She was able to do naught but stare. He was a large man with long, reddish-brown hair that barely touched his broad shoulders. Her fingers itched to intertwine themselves into the curling ends. She couldn't believe how handsome he was. A slight growth of beard covered his hard square jaw, accentuating his full lips that quirked slightly up at the corners in a ready smile.

He was not like Devlin in the least. No, this was a man.

Judith could have fallen over in gratitude and kissed the very ground he trod upon. As shock pierced her heart, her knees buckled and she would have fallen over if he was not holding her upright.

"Thank you for saving me." She stood on her toes and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Kinsley stared down at her. "Sweet lassie you warm my heart with your beauty and kindness."

Judith blinked and her mouth dropped open, forming a perfect oval. He just called her a beauty. No man had ever told her she was a beauty before.

"I feared I may not have gotten to you in time," he said, each word rolling off his tongue with his heavy brogue.

"How...?" Judith uttered the barely inaudible word.

"I saw the green from your cloak; it reminded me of the greenest grass of my homeland. I espied you from across the ravine, barely hanging on. You were a beacon, calling out to me like my own home, against this bleak, desolate landscape." He lifted his hand and waved it out to encompass the giant crevice in the ground.

Judith shook her head, again at a loss for words and hugged him tightly. That was three for the cloak. It was a good thing she kept it on. She stayed in his embrace and leaned her cheek against his warm, hard chest. His worn plaid was rough against her face.

Kinsley leaned forward and kissed her gently, just above her brow.

Judith shivered deliciously. His kiss was sweet...tender, but she could certainly do better than that. She pressed her body against his, lifted up off her feet onto the tips of her toes, and pulled his face down to her own as her mouth covered his. She kissed him with all the experience and gratitude she had. The kiss was utterly perfect, the one she had waited her entire life for.

A sad smile played on his mouth as he pulled away. "Lass, surely you are an angel sent from the heavens above for my arms alone."

Judith's knees gave out again. She had been called many things in her life, but an angel was not ever one of them. It warmed her from the inside out and touched her very soul.

He rested his head on the top of hers. "I only wish I could stay and get to know you better, lass. It would have warmed my heart to spend time with you."

"What? You can not leave." Judith started to panic. "You saved me. I owe you," she argued as she searched her brain for something else to say.

"You owe me nothing, sweet lass," he assured her as he rubbed the palms of his hands on her arms.

"Oh yes." Judith bobbed her head up and down with conviction. "Yes I do. I owe you my life. I take this very seriously. I am indebted to you until I can repay the debt." Judith had no idea where all this rubbish was coming from, but she was desperate. She would have said anything. "I will have to go with you," she added quickly, grasping.

He laughed lightly. "You do not know what you are saying. I am to be on a ship far from this place soon. I was on my way when I spotted you."

"A ship?" she squeaked. Judith hated ships; she had an aversion to water too. Of course, that was before. She had an aversion to Scotsmen too, until a few blessed moments ago. Maybe she needed a change. Yes, that was it. She promised to change and this certainly looked like a good change...a welcome change.

Kinsley cleared his throat, going on his gut, as he always did. "Sweet lass, if you have a mind to see a different place, I would love to take you with me," he said.

She blinked up at him unable to find the words she needed to say. She was not sure if she should look too eager. What would he think of her? Men always had a way of losing interest...

"I understand..." His face fell. You do not even know me. How can you begin to want to leave your home?" he rushed out, backtracking.

Judith stopped him. "Oh no, I will go. I mean, I would love to go with you," she said with sincerity.

"You would?" he asked, disbelief sounding in his voice.

"Try to stop me," she nearly yelled, then clamped her mouth shut. She tried to read his expression, afraid she already gave too much away.

Kinsley breathed out a sigh of relief. "I have prayed for someone like you and it seems the Good Lord has answered my prayers." He threw his head back and laughed. It was a boisterous sound and it made her warm all over.

Judith looked up towards the sky, as the man who was surely sent from above held her tightly in his arms.

Yes, it would seem Judith Alexandra Beauchamp had a little bit of redemption left in her as well.

TIME FLIES WHEN YOU ARE HAVING FUN

Ravenhurst

SEBASTIAN'S naked body was sprawled out in the middle of my borrowed bed with his head pillowed on his muscular arms. He was to be my husband tomorrow and I still couldn't believe it. I still felt like an imposter, and was in constant fear the other shoe would drop and ruin my dreams of becoming Mrs. Sebastian de Winter.

Sebastian watched the play of emotions on her face through the reflection in the mirror. He still had a hard time accepting her story about traveling to the past. It sounded like rubbish to him but Milford, Devlin and even Grayson seemed to give credence to the story. Still, it was hard to accept. Then there was the story of his ancestor, the Raven Knight, and his true love, Marguerite, his former betrothed. Hell, it was almost easier to believe Katherine had indeed traveled to the past than to believe Marguerite was the long lost love of his ancestor from a few hundred years ago.

Exhaling, he looked up at one of the fat-belly cherubs on the bedpost. He made a face.

It sneered at him.

He blinked and sat up. Rubbing his hands over his face, he looked again. It now looked normal. He shook his head, chalking it up to stress and worry. Once the wedding was over everything would be perfect...or so he hoped.

"Katherine?"

"Yes." I turned from the mirror.

"I was wondering about the necklace?"

"What about it?"

"Would you do it again? I mean, if you knew the consequences of your actions?"

"Do what again?"

"You know, take the necklace."

"Oh that," I let out a sigh of relief, then turned back towards the mirror. "Hmm, let me see. If I were told that borrowing an antique necklace could land me in another era of time, betrothed to a handsome, dashing, albeit sometimes insufferable Earl, would I have worn it still?"

"Hey!" A look of mock horror crossed his face and then a crease of worry formed between his brows. He waited and waited. His stomach knotted. "Would you?" he asked again, pressing her for an answer.

I turned to look at him once more. "Hmm, could you pull the sheet away?"

Sebastian sat up fully, and then slowly peeled the sheet away, revealing his incredible body.

Wow. My body warmed as it always did when I looked at him. Standing from the dressing table, I slowly untied the belt on my robe, as I walked towards the bed. "What do you think?" I dropped the robe from my shoulders, the silky material slid soundlessly to the floor.

"Tell me."

My legs were like jelly as I crawled onto the bed and slid my shaking hands up his chest and pressed him back into the pillows. Leaning forward, I barely touched his lips with my own. "You better believe I would."

Sebastian let out a low, throaty growl, rolled her onto her back, and braced his hands on either side. His long hair fell forward as he dipped his head down and barely touched her lips with his own. "I wonder if I would."

"What?" I pushed against his chest.

Grabbing hold of her hands, he easily lifted them over her head. He hovered above her.

"Well?" I frowned.

"I am not sure," he answered finally, then a sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and he began moving his hips back and forth. He released her hands and settled his body between her thighs.

"You...you...fiend..." I pummeled his chest lightly.

"There, there love. If you do not want to get burned you should not position your sweet body so close to the flame," he said jokingly, and then slid his hand down between her thighs.

I arched upward as I trailed my fingers over the taut muscles on his back and scratched him with my nails a bit harder than necessary. "What are you waiting for," I panted breathlessly. As my hips rose to meet his hand, he slid his finger in and out of my body faster. I burned from the exquisite torture.

Still smiling, he lowered his mouth and nipped at her lips, then her neck, eliciting a moan of pleasure in response. Then he stopped and pulled his hand away. Feigning a yawn, he rolled over onto his back and shut his eyes.

"You're stopping?" I gaped at him.

"What's the matter sweetheart?" He pushed a wayward curl out of the way.

"Why did you stop?"

"Payback."

He gave me a boyish grin.

"Would you like me to continue?" His brow hitched upward.

"No." In a huff, I crossed my arms.

Caressing her gently, he trailed his fingers back down, so close he could feel the warmth. "You sure?"

"Yes," I gasped. "Please..."

"Please what?"

"Do not stop!"

Sebastian let those words slide over him, warming him from the inside out. He was no stranger to those words. In fact, he had heard them many, many times before. Each woman begging for him to satiate the fire he knew was building deep down inside. Now, she was saying those words to him as well. A surge of smug satisfaction filled him. She was now the one begging for his ministrations in bed, just like all the others before her. However as he looked down into her passion filled eyes he knew deep down this time was different. She was different. The one exception to the rule, his rule. He did not want to drive into her body and then leave her. No, with her, he wanted to stay, get to know her, be with her for the rest of his days and even then, he did not think he would tire from her. This realization shook him to his core and spurred him to claim her for his own.

Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around her neck pulled her closer and seized her mouth in a hungry kiss...scorching her, branding her for his own. In moments, he was inside her, claiming her body as well. In and out, he glided into her wet passage at a rigorous pace. Her hands slid over his buttocks...squeezing. He groaned in pleasure. This, what he was doing to her was so far beyond anything he had ever felt, it staggered him completely. Ripples of pleasure shot through him.

For once, instead of letting his mind rule his actions he let his heart take control.

"Oh God...that's it love," he coaxed her onward and plunged deeply as he gave her exactly what her body craved. Lifting her thighs, he spread her legs wider.

"Sebastian!"

Immense pleasure poured over him hearing his name from her lips. A few more swift thrusts and he quickly took them both to the edge and then he stilled his body as he waited for her to say the words out loud he so desperately wanted, no, the words he needed hear her say.

"I love you Sebastian..."

Finally.

A low growl sounded from his throat. He gripped her hips tighter as she exploded around him. Thrusting deeper, harder...he slid in and out of her body, until he too finally lost every ounce of control and slipped over the edge into the abyss.

"I love you," he murmured softly, and pressed his lips to hers as he once more claimed them for his own.

PREPARATION

Ravenhurst

THE house was a flurry of activity. Every surface wiped clean, every cranny swept. It smelled of fresh lemon and beeswax. There was a whirlwind of activity as the staff prepared for the wedding.

The table, covered, in crisp white linen, was set with the finest bone china and silver. Elaborately etched crystal glasses sparkled under the illuminating glow of the chandelier and candelabras. It was the perfect setting.

Milford made sure of that.

Soon Darias, his liege, would have his heart's desire; soon everything would be as it should have been so many centuries before.

It was impossible to imagine how much time really passed. Milford often thought over the centuries that he might never find Katherine, or Marguerite, for that matter. He needed them both. One needed to replace the other.

That dark day in the forest, when it all began, he only glimpsed her for the briefest of moments. He still was not sure how he found either of them. He supposed he had some help along the way from him...and for that, he would be forever grateful.

HAPPILY NEVER AFTER

Ravenhurst

MY wedding day arrived and with it an uncanny sense of déjà vu. I took special care with my appearance. Now that Tabby was back, she was able to help me dress and fix my hair in the most elaborate of styles.

When I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror, I found, for once, I was not surprised with the image that reflected back at me. My image was an exact replica of the portrait I saw the night I transported back through time, to this place. The black and red of the gown contrasted against my pale skin.

I had no idea why I chose the dress I wore now. There were so many to choose from. Perhaps it was because it was the only gown I could call my own. Maybe I wanted to tempt fate, to see if I really did belong here after all. I even took it a step further and decided to wear the necklace as well. I put it around my neck. It felt warm against my skin and hung heavily against my chest as I descended the stairs. Milford was waiting at the bottom, right beside Joey, the gargoyle.

I stopped in front of them both. Milford lifted his arm and I wrapped my own around his. Reassuringly, he patted my hand gently and when he smiled at me, the act lit up his face. A strange calmness passed over me as we walked arm in arm, towards the library.

All the worry and trepidation I had faded away. Maybe I needed to tempt fate to realize, finally, that I was not an imposter. To recognize the fact that I was the one who was truly meant to be here all along.

Grayson smiled as I passed by, and Isabelle, who stood by his side, even looked happy. Devlin, the rogue, actually winked as I passed and my face heated as I smiled in return.

Once in front of the fireplace, we stopped. Milford squeezed my hand and leaned forward to give me a fatherly kiss on the cheek. Relinquishing his hold, he placed my hand into Sebastian's outstretched one.

We looked into each other's eyes and repeated the words that would bind us together for as long as we both shall live.

Images flitted through my mind as I recounted every moment of my adventure through time. The way I felt when he was near. His vivid eyes, his dimples, his heart-stopping smile, our first kiss. The first time we made love, the second, the third, and every other. His face inches from my own, he held me in his embrace. As he smiled down at me his dimples appeared once more.

Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against mine.

"I love you, Katherine." His warm breath whispered across my face.

"I love you, Sebastian," I said with all the emotion I felt and then he kissed me.

Our hearts beat as one as we melded to each other...the necklace began to glow...

Visions flew into my mind and for once, I expected the jolt when it hit. I held Sebastian tighter as my vision cleared in another time and place...

New York City – Present Day - Flash

The fancy apartment loomed behind my closed eyes. Marguerite walked quickly down the hall. Her sturdy boots echoed on the marbled floor as her cloak dragged behind, swishing sound against the tiles. She stopped at a side table and lifted the lid off a candy dish. She looked in and inhaled. Smiling, she picked it up and emptied the contents into the folds of her cloak. She was wearing clothing from another era altogether. She looked like she came from a simpler time, an enchanted realm, with knights in shining armor...

Another jolt coursed through us both, like a wave that staggered us like we were being knocked down in the ocean's surf. Sebastian held tighter while my mind flashed to yet another time and we both became spectators in another world...

King Arthur's Realm – Flash

An army of men gathered in a distant realm, their armor-clad bodies glinting in the sun.

Marguerite stood on the opposite ridge as she watched the assemblage of men across the valley...once more resigned to her fate.

The knight, Darias, was there as well, seated upon his massive warhorse while hundreds of men brought about their own horses, and lined up behind him.

The dark knight lifted his face to the sky. The sun beat against him. Sweat ran down onto his armor and splashed a drop at a time. Clouds roiled above. Every moment that ticked by, the wind picked up strength. A shroud of darkness began to cover the countryside as a large cloud blocked the sun, as if answering a silent prayer. The knight gave a nod of acceptance to the darkened sky as he pulled his broadsword from its scabbard. The metal rang with chilling clarity.

He raised the majestic sword high above his head, and roared out the shrill cry of battle.

She watched as we did. Her cloak billowed out from behind like angels' wings.

The ground shook as a reckoning force of men and horseflesh thundered down the hillside.

A smile spread across her lovely face as she laughed aloud. The sound echoed across the hillside and into the valley below.

Blocking out Marguerite's face, the battle, every other world I had seen, I held onto Sebastian with all my might...with everything I had.

The vision dissolved.

We both opened our eyes at the same time. Sebastian smiled down at me with a knowing smile.

"I love you now and forever," he whispered.

And with those words, the amulet's fire faded completely and sealed our fate together in a place where time could not forget...RAVENHURST.

♥

The story continues with RAVENHURST VOL II

Find out what happens next...

GRAB YOUR COPY TODAY

#  _Third Person Edition_

#

CONTENTS

PRAISE FOR RAVENHURST SERIES

YOUR INVITATION

LINKS TO OTHER BOOKS BY LORRAINE

DEDICATION

POETRY CONTEST WINNER

BEGIN THE BOOK

IDLE MINDS

WHEN NO ONE IS LOOKING

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

REFLECTIONS

WHEN IN ROME

IT'S COMPLICATED

OVERSTAYING A WELCOME

WHAT WAS LOST CAN BE FOUND

LOOKS CAN BE DECIEVING

NOT ALONE

DENIAL

DESPERATION

CONSEQUENCE

MEMORIES DO NOT ALWAYS FADE

THIS TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE

GOOD MORNING

NO ONE LIKES TO SHARE

RECOMPENSE

THE GAMES THAT WE PLAY

TIME DOES NOT HEAL ALL WOUNDS

A MOMENT'S PLEASURE CAN FADE

PAYBACKS ARE A BITCH

INDECISION

YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

NEVER UNDERESTIMATE YOUR PARTNER

FINDERS KEEPERS

THE CRAZY THINGS THAT YOU DO

ONCE A THIEF ALWAYS A THIEF

REGRET LEAVES A BITTER TASTE

JUSTICE MAKES A CRUEL BEDFELLOW

IF WALLS COULD TALK

CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT

OUT OF SIGHT DOES NOT = OUT OF MIND

STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES

SALVATION

SECOND THOUGHTS

CAPTIVITY BE DAMNED

PLANS GONE AWRY

TIME LAPSE

CAPTIVITY MAY NOT BE SO BAD

TOO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS

THE PRICE OF LIES

JUST DESSERTS

WHEN YOU OPEN THE WRONG DOOR

REGRETS

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS

WITS END

WHATS BEHIND DOOR #3

DESPERATE MEASURES

IF LOOKS COULD KILL

A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

ARE YOU HAPPY TO SEE ME

BETRAYAL

A MOMENT LOST

SWEET MISERY

A NEW DAY

YOU SHOULDN'T PLAY WITH FIRE

THIS TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE

WHAT LURKS IN SHADOWS

LOSS

THE PAST WILL COME BACK TO HAUNT YOU

PAYING RESPECT

BEFORE THE STORM

WEIGHT OF THE WORLD

SCATTERED HERE AND THERE

LOVE IS THE GREATEST GIFT OF ALL

CARRIED AWAY

EVEN THE GOOD MUSHT COME TO AN END

SECOND CHANCES

TIME FLIES WHEN YOU'RE HAVING FUN

LINKS TO ALL BOOKS IN RAVENHURST SERIES

Personal letter from Lorraine

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEAR READER...

You are cordially invited to join me on an adventure through the pages of my Ravenhurst books.

cLICK OR TAP

THE INVITATION TO READ THE RULES!

IDLE MINDS

Present Day

THE stately grandfather clock groaned out its sixth chime to mark the hour. Katherine shoved her feet back into her Betsey Johnson peep-toe pumps and then smoothed the wrinkles from her pencil skirt.

She turned towards the glass doors and started counting backwards. Ten... nine... eight... seven....the floor began to vibrate. Six... five... four... three... two...

The glass doors flew open and gusts of cool air hit her in the face.

"Have a good weekend!" she called after them..."The Evening Stampede."

A few blurred airwaves were tossed back in her general direction as her co-workers flew past.

"Wow," she mouthed in awe. "They're moving fast today." Lowering her arm, she sat back down. It never ceased to amaze her how fast her co-workers could move when it was closing time. One day she really needed to get a stopwatch and time them. She bet they broke a few records. Now they were all huddled in a group waiting for the elevators to come up to the twelfth floor.

Biddle & Bailey, the high-end auction house she worked for, owned the building. The reception area was in the center of the twelfth floor. Bronze statuary and Chinese ceramics were some of the items showcased in lit alcoves throughout the room.

A large still-life painting hung on the cream-colored textured walls above an Eames-era sofa. Two separate sets of glass doors flanked either side of her desk and led to different departments. A lone glass door, near the elevators, was completely off limits. It led to a set of private offices for the owners.

The elevators dinged.

Everyone squeezed on except Dane and Candy. They were too busy flirting with one another. They were both married, but not to each other.

Katherine couldn't leave until everyone else left, so she busied herself with inane tasks attempting to look occupied. Of course, it was a lie. She was really spying on Dane and Candy. She wanted to know if they were hooking up tonight.

Her best guess was yes.

The elevator swished loudly as it moved up the shaft.

She angled her head so she could look...without looking. They were both in her sights...Dane slid over to the side, getting closer. Candy angled her body towards Dane. They were toe-to-toe... Dane lifted his hand... Oooh this was getting good and then nothing. A blob of black blocked her view completely.

Dangit! She knew who it was, and what he ate for lunch today...sushi. To avoid the gust of fish breath that was about to come her way, she shoved away from the desk and stood quickly.

"Hey Ned, what's up?" She grabbed hold of the back of her chair and pushed it forward. Ned was one of the top appraisers at Biddle & Bailey, aka "the infamous blob" who was now chewing on something... she hoped it was a mint.

Ned lifted his finger in the air.

Apparently, he needed a moment.

Casually she leaned to her left to see what Dane and Candy were doing. Just as she made her move, the elevator doors dinged shut. Well that stinks. Now she would have to wait and try to pry the gossip out of Janice her co-worker, on Monday. Janice knew the dirt on everyone.

Bending over, she picked up her Warhol Marilyn tote off the floor and placed it on the desk.

Ned patted his pockets, mumbling some sort of gibberish to himself.

What is he doing?

"Ned, do you need some help?" She slipped her latest issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine into her bag.

"No." He shook his head back and forth. "I am merely looking for something."

Great. It was already six twenty. Traffic was going to be terrible. This was obviously going to take a while. Pulling out her chair, she sat down, lifted her W magazine off the desk, and flipped through the large pages. She made it all the way to the arty fashion feature that consisted of fifteen or so full-page photos that told a story. This one had a white-haired Mermaid with a pearl nose ring, entitled, "Far from Land."

"Ah-Ha!" Ned exclaimed exuberantly. "Here we are." He held a white envelope in his left hand and leaned forward. "It's Friday..." he sang the word and lifted his brows up and down.

"Yep, it's Friday. Woo!" she cheered. She wasn't real sure what all the brow lifting was about though.

Ned leaned in closer, which was kind-of hard since there was a substantial desk between them, and he still he managed to do it. Amazing.

"So... what fun things do you have planned for this weekend?" He traced his fingers across the marble design on the desk.

"Not much." She made a face and tossed the magazine back on the desk. "I guess I'll see what's going to be On Demand." She hoped something good was on. If not, she was going to re-watch Twilight, for the umpteenth time. Yes, guilty as charged, she was a Twihardaholic. She secretly adored all things Twilight. Fine that was a lie. It was really about the eye candy and eternal life with said eye candy that didn't sound like such a bad thing. At least not to her...well except food. She'd miss food. This reminded her she needed to pick up something for dinner...some tasty take-out maybe and something yummy for dessert. OH, and maybe some chips to counter the sweets. Damn, were her sweats clean?

Ned gurgled across the desk.

Her mind squelched to a halt. Oh God, was he choking? "Ned, you okay?" He had better be okay or she would have to do her version of the Heimlich maneuver, which would consist of her smacking the crap out of his back because she had no idea how to do the real one.

He pulled on his collar and held up his hand. "I'm good." He smiled widely.

The smile reminded Katherine of a beatific "I'm a cat that just inhaled the canary type of smile" which made her wonder if he did that choking crap on purpose just to get her attention.

"The reason for my question...well...I was wondering if you were free this evening?" His brows lifted expectantly with a hopeful look.

Oh, crap...was he asking her on a date? No. No. No. Think excuse. She needed an excuse. Ned was nice but she didn't like him in that way. Now she was going to end up hurting poor Ned's feelings, but she didn't want to go out with him on a date either. She shook her head back and forth, words eluding her for the moment.

Ned plodded onward, "It seems I have been fortunate enough to procure tickets to Biddle & Bailey's Historic Society's Preservation Ball." He waited a beat. "It's to be held at Ravenhurst estate," he singsonged and flapped the coveted invitation in the air.

Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. In an instant, she changed her head motion from side-to-side to up- and-down. Yes,...yes...yes. This put a completely different spin on the question. "Ravenhurst?" she repeated, just to be sure.

Ned nodded his head up and down for clarification.

It was Katherine's turn to lean forward. Her fingers itched for the invitation. She had half a mind to jump over the desk and wrestle Ned for it. But she held herself in check. It was hard though...so very hard.

Ravenhurst was one of those places everyone talked about, especially in the appraisal business. It was a magnificent creation erected as far back as King Arthur's realm, and steeped in as many legends.

"As I was saying," Ned continued, sounding impatient. "I do realize this is extremely short notice but you did make a point of saying that you have no pressing engagements for this evening." His light blue eyes zeroed in on her.

Katherine crossed her arms, and tapped her chin like she was really giving it a lot of thought. Hmm... either she could stay at home lusting after some fictional characters from a movie and stuff her face or she could go to a ball? No-brainer. But what of Ned? Did he think this was a "friendies" type of date or a real one?

"I was appointed a driver, and the evening is to be a costumed affair. Everyone must dress in a particular era. I thought the Victorian era would be perfect. I do so love all things Victorian you know, and it really does promise to be jolly good time." He rubbed his hands together excitedly.

His enthusiasm was catching.

Tingles of excitement shot through her at the prospect. It was two for two. Invited to a freaking castle and now she would get to dress up too.

How awesome is that!

Her mind sped off to another time and place. What had it been like to live in a place like Ravenhurst? What of the balls, and hunts, that must have taken place on long weekend parties? Oh, and the gallant men, how they must have courted their ladies. Were they dashing, debonair, and rich? Or more reserved, brooding, and wealthy, like John Willoughby in Sense and Sensibility?

"Katherine...Katherine?" Ned snapped his fingers.

"Huh?" She pulled her mind back from the clouds.

"Will you accompany me?"

His expression reminded her of a little puppy. He looked so darn cute.

"Of course I will." She ran around the desk and gave him a big exuberant hug. It only lasted a moment but he was really giving her a good squeeze.

When she pulled away, she noticed his expression had changed completely. Puppy was gone and Piggy was in his place. Oh Great! Too thick. She had poured it on too thick and now he probably thought she wanted more than a simple, "I'm using you to go to a castle kind of date."

"Wonderful!" Ned exclaimed, his elation clearly showing.

Heck, Katherine was elated too. Who in their right mind wouldn't be? And then just as suddenly reality crashed in and ended her short-lived fantasy. She had nothing to wear and her fatty-pants weren't going to cut it...not there. "Oh Ned," she whined. "I can't go." She poked out her lip and made a sad face.

"What?" He blanched. "Why ever not?"

"I don't have anything to wear." She leaned forward and bumped her forehead on the top of the desk in theatrical defeat.

Ned laughed brightly at her antics. "Oh, no worries, my sweet. Have you forgotten that I am Biddle & Bailey's sole appraiser of antique textiles? My job has some pretty nice perks," he boasted. "I have just the thing for you to wear down in storage. Give me but a moment and I will retrieve it for you." He reached out and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, yes, I am serious." He petted her arm. "Now, chin up. No worries, I'll be back in a jiffy." With one final squeeze on her arm, he turned on his heel and made a dash for the elevator. He jumped inside and the doors slid shut.

Once the coast was clear, she broke into a 'I'm going to a castle' happy-dance. One foot lifted in the air... she shook her head to the unheard beat...

The elevator dinged.

"Shit." She dropped her foot back down and quickly scurried behind her desk. She half expected to see Ned burst from the elevator doors doing the "Speedy Gonzales" (her name for his fast-paced walk) across the reception area floor. However, it was not Ned coming across the room at all.

No, instead, it was an attractive older man. He took his time and had a casual elegance. There was an umbrella tucked under his arm and a small box in his other hand. His suit, which was dark gray and exceptionally tailored, contrasted with his thick white hair, even though you could see glimpses of the dark, almost black color it had once been.

"Good evening. May I help you?" Katherine plastered on her most flattering: I am a professional, smile.

His eyes twinkled. "As a matter of fact, my fine lady, you may," he said with a crisp English accent. Gingerly he set the box on the desk. "I would like you to look at an item I have." He tapped his fingers on the velvet lid.

"Uh..." She forced her gaze up from the box. "I'm sorry." She twisted her fingers together. "All the appraisers are gone for the evening."

"Is that so?" He quirked a brow. "Perhaps you could help me?"

She cleared her throat and slid her sweaty palms over the sides of her skirt. "Of course, certainly, I can try. I will warn you though, I may not be of much assistance to you." She smiled playfully at him.

He frowned.

Oh my GOD! What am I doing? Flirting with him? He's old. "I mean...uh... what I meant to say was, I will...I mean, I can try to um...erhm, help you."

His frown faded. "Oh Katherine, my sweet dear. I feel quite certain that you of all people are the only one who can help me."

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She was getting a strange feeling about him. And it wasn't an "I'm getting hit on feeling either." Her mind raced as she tried to recall if she had somehow met him before. She searched her brain but came up empty. He lifted his hand and moved her nameplate to the side. The uneasy feeling receded a bit, but not entirely.

The lights above glinted off his ring as he unhooked the latch on the box.

Katherine leaned forward to get a closer look and got a big whiff of his cologne. It smelled expensive, and screamed: I'm a refined English gentleman type of cologne. At least that is what she thought a refined English gentleman should smell like. He had such an old world charm about him too. Actually, he looked like he was from another century altogether.

The box creaked as he opened the lid.

All thought fled her mind as he pulled a substantial blood-red stone encased in gold, from the box. The stone swung haphazardly and glimmered beautifully under the lights.

Instantly, she had an urge to try it on.

It was an overwhelming urge.

Actually, she really wanted to take it from him and had to force herself not to. What in the hell is wrong with me? Of course, she knew better. You never, ever, ogle consigners' items, end of story and yet, she couldn't stop herself from lifting her hand to touch it.

The gentleman chuckled and pulled the necklace just from her reach.

He may be old, but he sure was fast.

She narrowed her eyes, never taking them off the prize. She could tell he was watching her, but she didn't care. Not one bit. All that mattered was that necklace and her desire to wear it. He covered the stone with his hand. She blinked and pulled her gaze back to his. Immediately her face flamed with color. He was giving her the weirdest look.

He cleared his throat and his eloquent voice echoed out through the room. "Do not let the beauty of this necklace fool you," he warned, and uncovered the stone once again. "Legend has it that every one of the previous wearers mysteriously disappeared."

"Hmmm?" Distracted, her eyes followed the stone back and forth, back and forth, until he covered it with his hand again. She shook her head. "Wait...what? How can the wearer disappear and you have the necklace? That doesn't make any sense."

"My goodness Katherine, you are quick as ever, I see."

Huh? Her mouth popped open.

"The necklace does tend to show back up through time," he said. "Who knows?" He shrugged. "Perhaps there is more than one of these floating about." He waved his hand dismissively and then set the necklace down on the desk.

More than one necklace? A giddy rush of excitement passed through her. She wondered where she might find one for herself but why should she? One was right here, within her grasp... She walked her fingers towards the necklace. "Strange," she said more to herself than to him.

"Yes, well, the story is that this necklace was made by a gentleman from Arthurian times."

"You mean like King Arthur's time with Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table?" Her mind began to envision it all.

He chuckled. The sound reminded her of a Christmas cookie, warm and sugary. "I have only met a few of the Knights. Most are good lads. As for Merlin, he keeps to himself mostly." He leaned in and lifted his hand to the side of his mouth, whispering, "He likes to keep himself closeted away so he can spy on Morrigan."

Katherine wasn't sure why he was whispering...

they were alone. Wait a minute...was he serious? Oh no, was he some crazy eccentric? Of course he was...he had to be. She never met anyone normal. And she was all alone too. Wait...no she wasn't. Ned said he would be back in a jiffy. Granted she wasn't too sure how long a jiffy was, but she was sure he would be back at any moment. That made her feel much better but just in case she took a step backward. Not that it mattered. He had a really faraway look on his face and she doubted he even knew she was here anymore.

"This particular necklace was created to bring a knight back his lost love."

"Bring her back from where?" Her eyes widened.

He didn't answer.

"Hello Sir...sir..."

He shook his head and his eyes refocused. "I cannot say," he practically whispered.

"Why can't you say?" she whispered too.

"Unfortunately," he said and shook his head. "We will never know."

"Why won't we know?" she asked, getting peeved. That was it. Seriously?

"I apologize dear..." He gave her a sympathetic look. "The tale has been lost through time. Who knows? Mayhap there was another reason altogether for the making of the necklace or necklaces." He chuckled lightly.

Katherine noticed his laugh sounded strained, not sugary and warm this time. What was he up to? She stared at him to see if his countenance would falter but his expression didn't change.

He set the necklace back down on the desk and ran his fingers down the length of the chain. "This necklace is supposed to have power within," he commented distantly.

"What kind of power?"

"Apparently, if this necklace is worn when the moon is full, and the stars align just right, otherworldly things will happen."

She opened her mouth and shut it again. That's it. What the hell? "Right, sure...if you say so." She tried not to roll her eyes but couldn't stop her disbelief from showing.

"I am completely serious Katherine." He widened his eyes for emphasis. "Take heed to what I say! This is no mere necklace. The wearer will become captive to the whims of another."

Well, okay then. That did it. Poor man. He obviously had some issues with delusion. The necklace was a beauty though, that was for sure. She had never seen anything remotely like it, ever. Except for the Hope diamond which was pretty in a different way. It always amazed her how the owners sent the Diamond to the museum. She read they shipped it in a plain brown wrapper with no insurance...nothing. What would have happened if it got lost? Rich people do crazy shit and this guy looked like he was well on his way to being crazy too. She shook her head sadly and turned around to get a contract for him to look over. It was getting late and it was better to get this business finished as soon as possible.

Of course, Biddle & Bailey's stout rules bobbed through her mind, once more. Rule number one: Never ogle the consigners' belongings. Just broke it.

Rule number two: never touch, try on, or lust after consigners' valuables. We at Biddle & Bailey are better than that.

Unfortunately, she found herself contemplating breaking that one as well. Dang it! She took a breath and plastered on her best: "I am a professional" smile again, and turned around.

The contract slipped from her fingers and floated to the ground. A chill swept through her body.

He was gone—gone!

Where did he go? An uneasy feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach. She tried to come up with a simple explanation for his sudden disappearance. Maybe he was related to Ned: Speedy Gonzales II—right, she didn't believe that.

Katherine's eyes zeroed in on the necklace that was still on the top of the desk. The cold dark marble, the perfect backdrop for the fiery stone. It sparkled like liquid fire.

She stole glances at it like she did with Dane and Candy, always pretending not to look, but keeping it within sight. Surely, he would be back in just a moment, especially if it held all that mystical mumbo jumbo he claimed it held.

A sneaky little voice inside of her head whispered, It would only take a moment to try it on.

Katherine looked at the necklace with longing as her little voice dared her to touch it. She knew it was against policy but what could it hurt, really? Her hand inched forward, shaking.

It was just a necklace for goodness sake. Maybe it was the story the man told her... but more than likely she had gone over her limit of caffeine for the day. Maybe the cup she dumped on her blouse earlier had seeped into her body through her pores, which was more believable than the necklace being the cause.

She looked around.

The coast was clear.

Her little sneaky voice whispered again... Do it. Do it. The words stuck in her mind like a bad record caught on some sticky substance from a long forgotten party.

She gave in to her little voice and snatched the necklace from the desktop. In one fluid motion, she fastened it around her neck. She did not think about the consequences of her actions or that she knew she was breaking another one of Biddle & Bailey's stout rules. Or, if she were caught, she would surely lose her job. None of it seemed to matter right now. The moment it hit her skin, she felt a jolt. Like she had been scuffing her feet across the rug and had built up a huge amount of static electricity.

Grasping the necklace, she held it against her chest. Why did the Knight go to such lengths to bring the girl back and where did she go?

The stone grew warmer in her hand. Her mind flashed to a time that was not her own, to a place she had never seen before...

FLASH♦ KING ARTHUR'S REALM

The Age of Chivalry

Purplish hues ran through the trees, falling across the carpeted floor of a forest. The smell of pine and earth hung heavily in the air, as if it had just rained.

Two riders appeared.

The man in the lead was formidable, a force to be reckoned with, a knight. His long cloak billowed out past the flanks of his massive horse. A battle scar marred the otherwise perfect coat.

A young man followed stealthily behind, his squire. The horse's hooves made a soft clomping noise on the needles of pine. White steam swirled in the air, rent from the flaring nostrils of the massive beast'...

A high-pitched ringing filled her ears. It was terrible. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to her temples. The sound ebbed away, taking the pain with it.

She reopened her eyes.

A cloaked figure now stood in front of the Knight.

Dark clouds hovered above, roiling. The wind gained momentum, howling through the trees. The squire's horse reared in the air, dancing backward.

The person in the cloak removed their hood. Hair, dark as night tumbled in waves down her back.

All color drained from the handsome Knight's face. He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

The forest went completely still. Seconds turned to minutes as they stared at one another.

Recognition finally flitted across the Knight's face. Stepping forward, he grabbed the girl into his embrace and threw his head back, laughing. It was a deep, resonating sound. It was heartfelt... full of promises kept... dreams realized.

He pulled away for a moment, staring at her.

Katherine could see what he let the girl see, he let her see to his very soul.

Taking the girl's face in his hands, he leaned forward and lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her in such a way it made Katherine's own heart ache watching them.

This love they shared with one another was the one that everyone dreams of... the one that fills you so completely nothing else matters.

Katherine felt like an interloper. She clutched the amulet tighter... thinking if the love they shared was ever lost... their world would never be the same.

As if in response to her morose imaginings, the winds blew harder, the trees swayed, and the girl began to fade away.

The Knight was yelling to whoever was causing this great pain to rip him in two. His anguished cries filled the air as the girl slipped completely from his grasp.

Katherine could do nothing but watch...helplessly spellbound... shivering to her soul.

WHEN NO ONE IS LOOKING

Ravenhurst – Present Day

RAVENHURST, the ancient edifice cast an eerie silhouette in the full moon's light as a line of expensive cars wound their way down the curved drive. Red glowing taillights blazed in the darkness as each car stopped in front of the massive columned stairs, depositing guests bedecked in all their evening finery.

Katherine held tightly to the "I swear I did not steal, only borrowed," antique amulet as their car crept around the corner, revealing the enormity of Ravenhurst in the full moon's light.

"Ravenhurst is bloody daunting in the moonlight, is it not?" Ned asked in a crisp English accent as he adjusted his perfectly tied cravat.

Katherine nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's bloody daunting," she repeated in awe. Ned looked as dapper as any Victorian gentleman. The suit he wore accentuated his thin frame and he had combed his light brown hair away from his face.

Katherine felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, but unfortunately, Ned was no Richard Gere. It didn't matter though. She was going to a ball in a castle thanks to Ned. And what Ned lacked in striking good looks he more than made up for in expertise, since he was by far the best in his field. She looked past Ned through the window of the car. Twinkling lights flickered from branches of trees clustered around the edges of the circular drive as the car moved forward a little more.

"So Katherine, how does it feel to wear an authentic Victorian gown?" Ned gave her a warm smile.

"I daresay it is positively brilliant!" she exclaimed in her best feigned-English accent as she adjusted one of the hand-sewn poppies attached to the black- full- tiered- skirt. "I do have to say, my good man, putting it on was a bloody chore."

Ned chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I have to say you do it justice. It looks as though it was made specifically for you. The fit is just brilliant." His eyes traveled down the front of her gown and then he slowly brought his eyes back to her face. "I have to say Katherine, I feel bloody terrible you had such a time putting the dress on. Had I known, I would have retrieved you much earlier. Then perhaps I could have assisted you." He raised his brow slyly.

Oh, perfect. Piggy's back. Ignoring his comment, she adjusted the bodice. Her fingers slid over the sleek fabric. She had to admit he was right about the fit of the gown. The polonaise-style Victorian ball gown was a piece of art and gave her better posture than a runway model. It pushed her boobs up and squeezed her waist dramatically. Her body never looked better. It was kind-of funny though... she had always thought this style of dress would be preferable to her skinny jeans, but not so much.

The shoes were a different story altogether. Ned assured her they were called slippers. However, she dubbed them toe terrors that crushed each and every one of her toes with each step she took. They were worse than her super tight pair of Betsey Johnson peep-toe pumps... Slippers my ass!

Ned's eyes boldly found their way back to her cleavage. She wanted to say, Gee, Ned, could you be more obvious? Then she remembered her "borrowed" necklace. Did he know she was lying about it? No, he never saw the gentleman who brought it in. Still, she didn't want to chance it. She quickly brought up another subject. "So Ned, what is this I hear about some legend, the one with the Knight?"

"Ah, yes, the legend," he said brightly, warming to his subject. "Well, if I understand correctly, the original part of the home was built in Arthurian times. In the daylight, you can see the tower room and of course, the battlements. However, as time passed, each owner added something to it. As you will soon see, there is a great deal of Gothic influence in the architecture, very dark and foreboding."

"Wow. This place really is old as dirt."

Ned laughed. "Your word choices always give me a good chuckle Katherine."

Katherine smiled. She couldn't help it, his puppy face was back. "I have to say Ned, it certainly looks creepy."

"Well, if you think it is creepy now, just you wait until you see the inside," he warned. "And as far as the infamous legend is concerned, there are so many variations, no one truly knows what to believe." He moved a bit closer and lowered his voice as if he were about to divulge a great secret. "The one most often repeated is about the first knight, the Raven Knight. Ravenhurst is... was his home. He had fought in many battles and won favor with the King. He was both feared and revered. No opposition could rival the Raven Knight and his men in battle. The very skies would turn black as he and his men would swoop in and waylay their opponents every time." He waved his hand. "And then, just as suddenly they disappeared and the darkness receded," he said ominously. "Throughout time, many speculated that he had a necromancer helping him with the outcome of the battle. He never lost you see."

"What is a necromancer?" Katherine shivered and rubbed her arms.

"A necromancer is simply another word for witch, conjuror, or partaker of the dark arts," Ned said dismissively.

"What?" She gaped at him. "That's the legend? The Knight never lost a battle and he may or may not have had help from darker influences?" Shaking her head, she was not quite able to figure out what the big deal was. The story was interesting, but seriously, that was a lot of hoopla for a lot of nothing.

Ned leaned forward, and glanced at his reflection in the window. He dug something out of his front tooth and then turned back around. "Sorry about that," he said, wrinkling his face. "I love sushi but the seaweed seems to linger." He chuckled again and shrugged his shoulders. "What did you ask?" He lifted his finger in the air. "Oh yes, I remember..." he lowered his voice, "it's the treasure."

Katherine had to lean in, she could barely hear him. "What treasure?" She widened her eyes.

"Shush Katherine..." Ned freaked and pressed his finger to her mouth. "Someone may hear you," he rushed out in a frantic whisper. His finger lingered on her lips for a moment.

"The one everyone has been looking for. It is hidden somewhere within the walls of Ravenhurst. If found, it could enable the possessor to have unimaginable power." He lifted his fingers and stared at them for a moment, rubbing them back and forth.

It was Katherine's turn to freak... or she would have if she wasn't in repulsed shock. What in the hell was he doing? Gross.

The car stopped abruptly, pitching forward.

"This is us," Ned said excitedly and turned to exit the car.

She glared at his back as he climbed out. Ned better hope she didn't find the treasure of Ravenhurst because if she did, she was going to turn his ass into a toad for touching her mouth with his smelly, tooth-dirt fingers.

He was lucky the car stopped.

♦

There was a slight pile up on the stairs of Ravenhurst. Katherine held tightly to her 'borrowed' amulet, waiting in line. Gargoyles loomed above the massive entryway. She felt as though they were watching her every move. She shivered in spite of the heat coming off the other guests.

Finally, the line began to move and they were both ushered through the open doorway of Ravenhurst. She gave one of the Gargoyles a sidelong glance as she passed it and made her way into the foyer.

The floor was gorgeous. Black and white checkered marble tiles covered the expanse, polished so brightly the lights above reflected and sparkled across the surface. She leaned her head backward and looked up at the spectacular wrought-iron and crystal, Gothic- style chandelier.

To her right, was a huge winding staircase that led up to a second level landing. It continued further back, but she couldn't see beyond.

"Did you know white was not even considered a fashionable color for a wedding gown until Queen Victoria wore it at her wedding?" Ned grabbed her elbow and steered her around a group of people who stopped to admire one of the statues.

"Is that true?" She sidestepped a potted plant.

"Yes. It is true." Ned pulled her towards a passing waiter. "The color meant the bride was coming to the marriage penniless."

"Seriously?"

They came to an abrupt halt in front of a group of people hovering around a uniformed waiter. Even from the back of the crowd, she could see his tray was piled high with delicious looking pastries.

"Yes, I am serious. Even the gown I lent you was meant to be a wedding gown."

"Why would you say that?" She reached up and tried to rub the crick out of her neck from staring at the chandelier too long.

"The craftsmanship gave it away. That dress took a very long time to make. I do find the color of the gown an interesting choice for the bride though. Red signified she wished herself dead, so unfortunately, I don't think it was a love match." He shook his head sadly. "Poor dear."

A chill slithered up her spine and her mouth popped open. Oh, just perfect. She was wearing a gown from a girl that wanted herself dead. And she had to borrow a necklace made for a knight by who knows what, to bring his lost love back. A wave of dread washed over her. She was starting to have a bad feeling about this.

"Now the black overlay and hand-sewn floral accents were also an interesting choice for the bride, since it meant she wished herself back. Now this is a bit confusing for me. I am not sure how she can wish to be dead, and then wish herself back." He shrugged indifferently.

"Well, at least it sounds like she changed her mind. Maybe she was like Juliet, trying to be with her true love but she couldn't, so she pretended to kick it so the other guy would leave her alone," she said hopefully, trying to make the tightness in her chest subside.

"Perhaps," Ned replied absently.

They finally made it to the front of the line.

Ned inspected the tray for a moment and then grabbed one of the puff pastries off the tray and popped it into his mouth.

Katherine peered over his shoulder to see what else was on the tray. "Still, it is kind of sad and disturbing at the same time, don't you think?"

"Oh, Katherine, that is not even the half of it. The Victorians were an especially superstitious lot and even made poems up about certain aspects of the wedding. Take the days of the week, for instance: Marry on Monday for money, Tuesday for wealth, Wednesday the best day of all, Thursday for crosses, Friday for losses, and Saturday, for no luck at all."

"Seriously, you get no luck at all for a Saturday? Everyone gets married on Saturday in America. Well, that is just great. I guess we're all screwed."

Ned chuckled. "You are quite a crack-up aren't you?"

"Yeah, a real crack-up," she said despondently and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. "So, Ned, where did the dress come from anyway?" She took a sip of champagne.

"Oh, it came from Ravenhurst."

Katherine coughed so hard, the sip of champagne flew out of her mouth. Her eyes teared up. "What did you say?"

"The gown is from Ravenhurst."

"Wh—why am I wearing it then? Isn't that against the rules?"

"Oh, no worries." He chuckled and petted her arm reassuringly. "It isn't like the girl who wore it is going to miss it," he said laughingly, the sound getting lost in the crowd.

Katherine drained her drink in record time. She needed to take the edge off. She was trying to forget all about the origins of the necklace, as well as the girl who wore the dress.

All she really wanted to do was explore the castle without Ned telling her another dreadful story. He was putting a serious damper on her good mood. And those stinking gargoyles'... their little beady eyes seemed to keep following her everywhere she went.

It was probably guilt making her feel that way. She should have taken the necklace off. Truthfully, she should have never worn it in the first place, but somehow, she couldn't help herself.

The necklace was awesome. Besides, it wasn't her fault Ned lent her the gown and insisted she keep the necklace on. Except he didn't know she was lying about how she got it in the first place.

Apples-oranges, did it really make a difference? She thought not. Ned was the culprit in all this. Not her... at least that's what she tried to tell herself to lessen the feeling of guilt.

♦

Two hours later and yet another terrible story relayed by Ned in gory detail, Katherine was getting pretty depressed. Didn't Ned have any good stories to tell? She finished off her third glass of champagne, which did a fine job of dulling the pain in her toes, but unfortunately, not her head.

Ned had been talking non-stop.

Her eyes followed Ned's hand as he reached out and snagged another pastry off the passing waiter's tray and popped it into his mouth. Cream slipped out of the side of his mouth as he chewed and tried to speak at the same time, warming to his subject again.

"The Victorians would attach strings to the deceased bodies in various places, such as the hands, head, and feet before they were buried." Ned paused for a moment, and plucked yet another pastry off the retreating tray of crab puffs and popped it into his mouth.

"And to think Dr. Taberger designed the system above ground, just in case the person they buried was not really dead at all. It was bloody brilliant. The bell would alert the cemetery night watchman to dig up the body. Of course, I am not quite sure if they managed to do this in enough time..." He shrugged, licking the cream.

Katherine watched him run the tip of his tongue over each one of his fingers and was frankly surprised her mouth began to water instead of her gag reflex kicking in. She knew why, too. She was so hungry it just didn't matter. The dress had her trussed up so tightly, it was hard to take a breath. She knew if she tried to eat anything, the damn thing would asphyxiate her, rendering her unconscious for the rest of the night.

"Now where was I?" Ned questioned, tapping his chin.

Please stop...please stop! I can't take it! Not another word about corpses or I am going to be sick. She searched the crowd frantically, for someone to unload him on. Amelia, was standing in the corner, gawking at Ned. Perfect.

Amelia was another appraiser but she dealt mainly in antique jewelry. At least that was her specialty. She actually dabbled in a bit of everything, especially from the Victorian era. She was a petite little thing, with a short boyish hairstyle that looked perfect on her small frame. Amelia dressed nice but her clothing tended to be very conservative, with one exception. She liked to accessorize with brightly colored, vintage-enameled flower pins.

Katherine guessed she was a likeable enough person, a bit bookish at times but really, in this business, who wasn't?

Spotting her chance for escape, she pulled Ned towards Amelia.

A group of ladies were huddled together and blocked her path. Not to be deterred, she cut around to the side and came to a halt right in front of Amelia.

"Ned," Amelia said in surprise, smiling widely.

"Oh hello," he answered, and lifted his hand and smoothed his hair back.

Katherine thought Ned would be happy to see Amelia but instead he sounded completely downtrodden. Good grief, was he blind? Amelia looked really good.

Katherine smiled at her warmly. "Hey Amelia, I love your outfit." She was wearing a bright green riding ensemble with a jaunty little hat cocked to the side. The feathered plumes, curved around her face dramatically. She had a riding crop in one hand and a drink in the other.

"Oh, hello Katherine." Her brow wrinkled in displeasure. "Funny, I didn't know you were invited."

"I wasn't. I mean, I came with Ned."

"That was kind of him." Amelia eyes slid up and down Katherine's body with visible distaste.

Katherine immediately revoked her earlier comment. Amelia wasn't nice—she was a bitch!

"What an interesting piece of jewelry." Amelia leaned forward to get a better look in the dim light.

"Uh, it is. Thanks." Reflexively Katherine covered the necklace with her hand.

"Wherever did you get it?" Amelia narrowed her hazel eyes which made her fake lashes clump together. It looked like a spider was attacking her left eye.

Katherine may have found some humor in that but instead she was trying to come up with yet another lie. "Erhm... uh, someone's grandmother from another mother," she mumbled stupidly.

"What?" Amelia frowned, leaning closer.

Katherine took a step back, and placed her other hand on her stomach. "Oh gosh, I have got to go to the bathroom,—it just hit me." She made a strained face.

Ned looked suspicious. "I will accompany you." He made a grab for her arm.

Katherine stepped out of his reach. "Oh no, I really think it would be best if I go alone." She played it up a bit, bending down slightly and pretending to have cramps of some sort.

Ned made a sour face, and flared his nostrils slightly. "Oh, I see, of course, you should go alone. You will need your privacy."

Katherine added another strained look for good measure, turned, and walked away.

"Try to hurry back," he called out from behind.

"Oh, I'll try," she lied, calling back over her shoulder. Walking briskly through the crowd, a broad smile quickly replaced the pained look. She snatched two more glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, and took off to explore the castle.

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Ravenhurst – Present Day

THE light of the full moon made an eerie glow at the end of the hall through the mullioned windows. Katherine walked slowly past armored knights stationed in alcoves on either side of the hall. She drank the last bit of champagne from one of her glasses and bent over to set it on the base. Standing up fully, she patted the cool metal. "I'll pick this up on my way back," she assured the stoic figure of a knight in shining armor.

Walking forward into the glow of the moon, she stopped and looked out the large bank of windows. A dark cloud spread across the horizon and gave the impression of a hand reaching out across the sky—searching for something or someone. At least that is how it looked to Katherine. Shivering, she reached up to stroke the amulet.

A cloud drifted over the moon and blocked the illumination.

The hall turned black.

She shivered once more.

After a few moments, the clouds dissipated and the hall filled with illumination once more.

To her left was a large gallery. She stepped through the arched doorway. Vaulted ceilings soared high above her. The vast floor was filled with strategically placed statuary. She wondered if this was where the lords of the estate courted their ladies, or were they brought here to be seduced.

It certainly looked like the perfect place for seduction. She ran her fingers over the muscled arm of David, moving down to his perfectly sculpted buttocks, and patted them lightly.

She laughed out loud at her foolishness, her voice echoing throughout the room. She was sure the champagne was taking its toll, the bubbles rising in her stomach, making her giddy.

Gilded rows of paintings covered the far wall of the room. She wandered over to them, her heels clicking out a rhythm on the parquet floor, keeping time with the music wafting up from below. She stopped to admire one of the paintings: a knight in profile, his long black hair blowing away from his face as he looked off into the distance across a vast countryside. Dark clouds gathered above his head, and his cloak billowed out from behind.

He looked sad.

A brief glimpse of him in misery flashed across her mind and her heart went out to him. She tried to recall where she may have seen him before, but couldn't grasp it.

There was nothing tangible.

Determined to have a good time, she shook herself, and made herself move from his portrait. Taking another small sip of champagne, she looked at the next portrait. Her breath caught and she instantly wished she took the bottle instead of just two glasses.

This portrait showed a man leaning against a mantel in a library or study. Katherine could swear the room turned colder as soon as she looked at the unpleasant man in the portrait.

It was disturbing.

There was no other word for it. He was not unattractive, but his eyes were cold, unfeeling, like he wanted to, or did, some foul deed. She rubbed her arms, trying to ward off the unpleasantness, but the feeling held tight.

Quickly, she strode away to the next painting and froze. Her heart skipped an entire beat as she stared into the eyes of yet another man. He was all alone on a grassy hilltop, with this very estate as the backdrop. He was smiling broadly—he was... perfect.

Disjointed images hit her in waves, making her stomach lurch. She felt like she was going to be sick. Then she saw him in another time, laughing; then for a split second, his gray eyes flashed anger before they softened. She could see the love in them, which made her feel warm all over. She barely had a chance to catch her breath when another image hit her. This time, his beautiful face was devastated. Her heart dropped as she watched him suffering. Then, just as suddenly, his eyes went blank, devoid of all expression. There was no spark of life, anger, or love... he became a shell of emptiness.

Katherine couldn't take it. It felt worse than his suffering. Choking back a sob, she turned away. It was horrible... she could not stand seeing him like that. However, the vision did not fade. It stuck in her mind, suffocating her. Trying to alleviate the terrible feeling, she closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing.

After a few moments, the feeling abated, a little, but not entirely. She forced herself away from the painting, towards another painting at the far end of the room. This one stood all alone in the corner.

Moving forward, she dragged her feet, the soles of her shoes scuffed loudly against the floor. Her feet were moving forward, but her mind wanted no part of where they were taking her.

Friction began to build in the air. She stopped in front of the last portrait. Her hand shook as she lifted her glass and gulped down the rest of her champagne. She had her eyes tightly shut. She knew she was being a coward, but she did not want to look.

Finally, she forced her eyes open and immediately wished she hadn't. Recognition slammed through her. "This can't be happening," she whispered in disbelief as her world fell away and everything turned black.

REFLECTION

Ravenhurst – Victorian England

SEBASTIAN de Winter-The Earl of Ravenhurst, looked out his library window toward the setting sun, watching it disappear into the coming night. He couldn't help thinking it was vanishing, just as Marguerite had, without a trace.

Placing his glass on the desk, he let out a heavy sigh. She was certainly not his first choice for a bride, and would not have been a candidate at all if he had any say in the matter. He was quite content with his life just the way it was. When he wanted a woman, he bedded one. There was no rhyme or reason to his choosing. He enjoyed all women and they him. He had yet to hear a complaint.

He laughed lightly, remembering Annabelle's reaction when he told her he was getting married.

THE DANDRIDGE'S TOWNHOUSE ♦ LONDON

"What do you mean you are getting married?" Annabelle Dandridge shrilled out loudly and pushed her long red curling hair away from her face. Her blue eyes ignited in anger.

"Sorry love, I don't know what to tell you. A man has to do what a man has to do," Sebastian said absently, pulling his breeches up. Her pretty face had an angry pout. "Annabelle, now don't be that way," Sebastian cajoled and tossed his shirt on carelessly. Letting the fabric hang open, he walked towards the bed.

"Remember you are married as well, or have you forgotten your husband, Adam, so easily?"

Annabelle fell backward on the pillows and covered her face with her arm. "Oh, right, I am," she said as if it suddenly dawned on her. "He is old, though. And he makes me sick when his wrinkled fleshy body touches mine." She shuddered. "And you are the opposite." She sat up and placed her hand on his taut stomach. "You are young and handsome and you make me feel so good when you touch my body." Her hand slid lower. "And I have not even mentioned the best part..." she teased, and smiled up at him. Pushing her hair back, she leaned forward and deftly unfastened his breeches. Releasing him fully into her hands, she looked up and gave him a wicked smile.

Sebastian lifted his brow. He knew that look.

Annabelle lowered her head and took his length into her mouth.

Sebastian closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment.

WHEN IN ROME

Ravenhurst – Victorian England

WHERE in the hell was that rotten smell coming from?

Katherine tried to swallow, but her mouth was as dry as a desert in drought... Damn champagne. It always tasted so good going down, too.

As she tried to open her eyes, a sharp pain shot through the side of her head. She needed a soda... fast, and a bathroom. She forced her eyes open.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" She scrambled back from the person leaning over her.

"Oh there now little missy," the old woman crooned in a crackly voice. "Just rest your weary head back onto the pillows and try not to make any sudden movements while I get you some water." She pressed Katherine's shoulders down into the pillows and then turned to walk across the room. "I bet you're awfully parched after all this time," she called out over her shoulder.

Katherine pushed herself up and winced. Where am I? She glanced around. The room was cloaked in shadows and she didn't recognize anything. Reaching up, she rubbed her pounding forehead.

The woman with the weird accent shuffled back and forth across the room. She stopped at a table and lifted a pitcher in the air. "What you need is a cool glass of water," she said, and then began pouring water into a glass.

Katherine would have preferred a soda instead but the super thin maid/woman seemed a bit put out with her already. Besides, she was trying hard not to stare but she wasn't doing very well. The woman had on some strange clothing. Well, maybe not strange per se, but it definitely looked out of date... really out of date.

The gown she wore was long and an ugly grayish color with a ruffled neckline and a bright white apron with a matching little cap perched on her head. Her dark hair was pulled tightly back in a bun at the nape of her neck, which was not a good style on her. It made her hair look really greasy.

"Ex... cu," that was all she got out. The bad smell from earlier hit her again. She lifted her hand and breathed on it. Her eyes crossed. Gross! Her breath smelled worse than road kill on a hot day. What in the hell did I eat last night, a bucket of turds?

The maid shuffled back across the room with a glass in her frail hand.

Katherine clamped her mouth shut. No need to kill the maid with her breath.

"Now little missy, just open your mouth and I will help you drink this." The maid leaned in. Wrapping her free arm around Katherine's head, she wedged the rim of the glass between her lips and dumped the water.

The water tasted terrible.

Katherine gagged and coughed. The water came right back up and out of her mouth. She couldn't catch her breath. The maid held onto her body and stopped her from rising... She was almost out of air...

"There you go." The maid jerked her body forward and then gave her a huge whack on the back.

Air blasted into Katherine's lungs.

She looked at the skinny maid again. The veins of her frail arms bulged through her pale skin. How in the hell were those skinny arms so strong? And yet the sting on her back told her the bitch was hell of a lot stronger than she appeared.

The maid shook her head and pulled a rag from her pocket. The little piece of white material dangled from her fingers.

"Now look what you've done." She made a clucking sound. "You've made an awful mess of your face." She looked horrified. "No worries, I can fix you up in just a moment." She covered Katherine's face with the rag and pinched her nose shut.

Katherine was suffocating... again.

Reaching out, she clamped her hands on the woman's wrists, and shoved them away from her face. "St...op it," she gasped brokenly, trying to pull air into her lungs.

"Your face is still a mess."

Katherine gritted her teeth. "I don't care."

"Well... it's your face. I'll tell you now, it does not look right. Not one bit."

Katherine rubbed her hands over her face. It felt fine to her. What is she talking about?

"Sure you do not want me to clean you up a bit more?" She lifted the rag again.

This bitch is crazy. "Yes... I mean no! I don't want you to clean it up anymore."

"Suit yourself little missy," the maid huffed indignantly and stuffed the rag back into her pocket. She made a "harrumph" noise and then shuffled back across the room with the empty glass.

Katherine sat up fully, watching her every move as questions without answers swirled in her mind.

IT'S COMPLICATED

Ravenhurst – Victorian England

SEBASTIAN opened his eyes as one pleasant memory faded into another. This particular memory gnawed at him and filled him with dread. These were uncommon emotions for Sebastian and ones he preferred to keep buried deep inside, for good.

Turning away from the window, he poured himself another stiff drink... a habit he found himself indulging in more since the disappearance of his betrothed. Taking a large gulp of the fiery liquid, he wandered over to the mantel and set down the glass. He pressed his hands against the cool marble and let his mind return to where it was wont to go of late: his wedding day. The flames danced before his eyes as he recalled every rotten detail of that day.

RAVENHURST♦ALL HALLOWS EVE

All Hallows Eve seemed like the perfect day to marry a witch.

"She is not a witch, Sebastian," Isabelle commented doubtfully as she looked over at her nephew.

"Who says? You, my dear aunt?" he snapped. "Forgive me for not taking your word for it." He crossed the room to get a drink. Lifting the crystal decanter, he splashed a hefty amount of Brandy in a glass and called out over his shoulder, "Just like you had no idea about Father's will? I know you had a hand in that codicil he added right before he died. Was that a coincidence as well? It seems fate has been on your side all along; how very fortunate for you."

He turned and looked over at his aunt, who tilted her head away, hiding her expression. He could read her like a book and she knew it. Her dark blonde hair was piled high in the latest style, something with curls and twists. It made her look much younger than her years, which was probably why she chose that style. She never let anyone know her true age. She always said age was just a number. Even he had to admit it worked, for she did look exceptionally good. He was not even sure of her age himself.

"How is this match fortuitous for me, Sebastian?" She twisted her hands together nervously. "You know you have to get married at some point. What difference does it make?" Isabelle questioned warily.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and took a drink. Apparently, she intended to continue acting as though she knew nothing of the codicil. "I didn't know I was going to have to marry her," he snapped. "I have a feeling you made Father put her name in the will, so stop acting as though it was all a big surprise." He dashed his hand through his hair in aggravation.

"What I would like to know, is why her? Wouldn't any woman have worked?" Sebastian tossed back the contents of his drink. The glass made a sharp ping when it hit the marble mantel.

"Is it because of Devlin?" He scrutinized her to see if her countenance would falter. "Are you afraid your young rakehell of a husband may wander over to greener, younger pastures, searching for a better... cow?"

She shook her head.

Sebastian could see by her reaction that his words were closer to the truth than she would ever admit. He felt a little bad giving her such a hard time, but it truly stung that she betrayed him in such a way. Now he had to pay the price and marry her ward to get what was rightfully his.

Isabelle tried to conceal her expression. She did not want to admit the truth in his words. "Well, that is neither here nor there. She is a wonderful girl and will make a fine mother for your children."

"Not bloody likely!" Sebastian exclaimed vehemently. "I sincerely doubt I will even be able to perform my husbandly duties. She is insipid and watches me like a pathetic dog, waiting for a treat. Moreover, by the looks of her, she should eat a treat now and then. What did they do... starve her at boarding school? She looks like a bloody carcass with eyes. Oh, and don't get me started on those books she carries with her everywhere like a shield." He waved a hand in the air.

"Sebastian, goodness, she isn't as bad as all that. Where have your manners gone? I don't even know who you are right now!" Isabelle exclaimed her voice tinged with sadness.

"Oh please, don't play the innocent with me. You are no paragon of virtue, either. We both know you have had more than your fair share of bedmates. It is a shame your former husband lacked the fortitude to withstand your charms in the bedchamber. He dropped dead rather quickly. Was it a month... two?" he asked in a saccharine voice. "How kind of him to leave you Hawthorne Manor and all its entailments. Still so young with so much money. I would say you are set for life, now, aren't you, my dear aunt?"

"Oh, stop, Sebastian. I never claimed to be a saint."

"What of Judith? Will she get to choose her husband?"

Isabelle glared at him, her own ire rising. "What?"

"Judith, your new husband's sister. Isn't she now living in your home and off the money from your deceased husband as well? Or have you forgotten her so easily?" he asked. "Why not give it to Marguerite?" He leveled her with his intense gaze. "Oh, wait. She has her own money from Victoria. Or does she? Where did her money go, Isabelle?" Sebastian asked snidely, even though he knew the answer to most of his questions already.

Isabelle paced back and forth, wringing her hands. "Cease. Please. Judith has no place to go and Marguerite's money will go to you, I made sure of that." Isabelle smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her ice-blue gown.

"Do you know what I find interesting?" He turned to face her fully. "Judith is a stranger to you, and yet you take her in and supply her with, not only a home, but new clothing as well. Marguerite, your ward, you know, the one you pledged to look after 'til the day you die... what are you doing with her?" He looked pointedly at his aunt. "Oh right, you are dumping her off on me so your husband won't try to bed her." He shook his head and tossed back the rest of his drink.

Isabelle walked forward with her arms outstretched. "Sebastian, sweetheart..."

He lifted his hand to stay her. "I have a wedding to prepare for. Or did you forget that I am to be married in a few short hours?"

"Of course not... Can I do something for you?" She twisted her hands.

"No. I think you have done enough," he said with finality, feeling more betrayed with each step he took towards the open doorway. He stopped mid-step. Marguerite was standing in the middle of the foyer; her face flushed in anger or sadness... maybe both. Her violet eyes bore into his own with a look of sheer, unadulterated hatred that chilled him to the bone. Gooseflesh rose on his skin. He felt frozen in place, like so many of the marbled statuaries positioned around Ravenhurst's rooms. He knew he should say something... maybe even sorry... but the words escaped him...

Finally, she broke her gaze and the lead weight he felt in his legs subsided. "I am late," he mumbled awkwardly and walked briskly past her, keeping his eyes downcast on the marble-checkered tiles of the foyer. He rounded the corner and took the steps two at a time up the winding staircase without ever looking back in her direction once.

♦

Sebastian finished off the rest of his drink as his mind returned to the present. The flames had died down and were now nothing more than red embers glowing in the dim light. He chuckled a little. It was an empty, hollow sound. No wonder the chit left him at the altar. He couldn't blame her, really. Had he been in her shoes, he would have left himself at the altar as well. He found he had a healthy respect for her gumption. He didn't think she had any.

Apparently, he was wrong on that count, as well as a few others. She vanished that night without a trace. No body found, no misdeeds done, even though he did entertain the notion, if only for a moment, but he was not that terrible... or was he? He would never know for sure. Apparently, she ran as fast and as far as she could, and thereby had the last laugh. For, unless she was dead–with a body for proof and no misdeeds done to said body, he could not inherit one red cent.

Had he known that little bit of information at the time, perhaps he might have been kinder to her. A bark of laughter escaped his throat at the insanity of it all.

In truth, he probably would have tied her up and dragged her to the altar instead.

OVERSTAYING A WELCOME

Ravenhurst – Victorian England

KATHERINE had to wait out the maid before she finally made it to the bathroom. She looked around for some toothpaste or mouthwash but there was nothing. Instead, she made use of a folded cloth on the side of the white porcelain pedestal sink. She rubbed her teeth and tongue and repeatedly rinsed her mouth with water that tasted like rust—it was better to do this now, than the alternative.

The tiles were cold under her bare feet. When she hit the carpet she scuffed her feet all the way back to the bed to get some warmth back in them.

Turns out, she was still at Ravenhurst... where else could she be? She wondered how many other people were overstaying their welcome. She rubbed her face. I hope I am not the only one.

Katherine had mentioned the other guests from the party to the maid but her only response was an owlish stare. Then right before the maid left the room she told her not to move, she needed her rest. Since she still had a half-assed headache, she wasn't going to argue.

Turning, she grabbed a pillow. Her breath caught. Several, tiny sneering cherubs perched on the bedposts greeted her. She turned around and found more at the end of the bed. They were gathered in a group, examining her. She made a face at them.

The carvings were extraordinary, but also weird. Seriously, who in the hell would choose to be watched by a gang of little ugly cherubs, sneering at you, and hanging above your head every night before you fell asleep? That was just begging for nightmares.

They were almost as bad as the gargoyles that were standing, crawling, or hanging from every surface inside and out of the entry and the foyer. Ned said it was creepy inside Ravenhurst, and he wasn't kidding. She hoped he was still around, since he was her ride. If he left, she had no idea how she was getting home.

At least her headache was almost gone and her breath wasn't so bad anymore. She wished she had some food though. She was starving. Reaching up, she pulled the curtain back on the bed.

A glass shade globed lamp with flowers painted on the sides cast a faint yellowish glow on the little doily underneath on the bedside table. Little figurines of animals were placed around the edges but no telephone. Dang it!

She pulled back the covers.

A dragging noise sounded from the end of the room. Panic swept over her. She couldn't see the end of the room. She felt trapped. A faint shaft of light flowed in from a small opening in the curtains at the end of the bed. The light ray shifted...not once—but twice.

Katherine covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. She tried to calm her growing sense of dread, hoping... saying it was only the maid, but she knew it wasn't. She just knew whatever or whoever it was had to be horrible. She could feel it. Judging the distance across the room, she tried to decide which would serve her better, fight, or flight...

A sickening thump vibrated the room.

Oh hell no!

She chose flight.

Springing from the bed, her bare feet barely touched the rug as she leapt to the door. Grabbing the handle, she ripped it open and bolted through. Full speed she rounded the corner and ran into a hard unyielding object. Her flight for freedom ended abruptly. Katherine collapsed to the floor and darkness enveloped her once more.

WHAT WAS LOST CAN BE FOUND

Ravenhurst – Victorian England

SHE was back. How could that even be possible? Sebastian took the stairs two at a time, just like the last time he saw her. Except now, he ran towards her, instead of away. His mind, still too muddy from the alcohol to understand what his man Milford was saying. It sounded like "Marguerite has returned." Sebastian was in no mood for his valet-butler's humorless jokes. However, Milford was not kidding...he was deadly serious. So caught up in his own thoughts, Sebastian could not believe what he was seeing.

A flurry of white rounded the corner with long hair flying behind. He couldn't move fast enough. The girl hit him with such force, he lost his footing and tumbled backward. He strained to move, but she was dead weight. He tried again. Bloody hell! How drunk was he? He was not a weakling by any standards but still could not budge the girl.

The last time he saw Marguerite, she was no more than skin and bones. As he pushed against her now, he could see that was not the case any longer. Was she really ever that skinny? Or did she look that way because her gowns were always so large? He tried to remember, but he couldn't recall ever looking at her... really.

His head hurt like hell from slamming into the floor. He was stuck.

"MILFORD!" he yelled as loudly as he could. He heard footsteps approaching where he lay.

"Good heavens, my lord, what has happened?" Milford inquired, his voice tinged with laughter.

Sebastian looked up to see Milford's eyes tearing up.

He clenched his jaw. "Get her off me."

Milford bent down and rolled her slightly to one side.

It was enough for Sebastian to get out from under her body.

Standing up, he looked down at the girl on the floor.

"What happened?" Milford asked.

"She ran into me," Sebastian said, stating the obvious.

Milford crossed his arms as though he were a detective investigating a crime scene. "Why?"

"How do I know?"

Milford tapped his chin. "She must have been moving pretty fast to knock you over so easily, don't you think?"

"Yes. Is this line of questioning going somewhere?" Sebastian asked, annoyed.

"Don't you find it odd that she was running?"

"Why, yes, Milford, I do. Don't you?" Sebastian exhaled, exasperated, and ran his hand through his dark hair. It was longer now and kept falling in his eyes. He did not spend as much time attending to his appearance as he had in the past, not since the chit ran away. It seemed like she took something from him when she left, and he didn't want to ponder what that could be.

"I do wonder what she was running from?" Milford cast his eyes warily towards the end of the hall.

"Bloody hell Milford, how do I know? Maybe she had a bad dream."

"Yes, probably, a really bad dream," Milford, agreed readily.

Sebastian looked at Milford. He could swear his face turned paler. "Help me get her back into bed."

Milford stared down the hall for a moment longer.

"Milford."

"Right, sorry," he said, and bent over. He grabbed her legs and lifted her up in the air.

Sebastian reached under her arms and lifted her up with some effort. They quickly carried her back to bed. Once she was settled, Sebastian turned to Milford. "Have you called the doctor?"

Milford straightened the bedspread. "Yes, Dr. Dandridge will be here shortly, after he attends another patient."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. Dr. Dandridge was Annabelle's husband. Perfect. That was all he needed.

"I will check to see if he has arrived." Milford walked around the bed and left the chamber.

Sebastian stood over Marguerite. "Where have you been?" he asked her sleeping form. "And more importantly, who have you been with?"

Granted, he had often heard stories about the fates of many young women after their so-called admirers had their way with them. Sebastian wondered if that was the case with Marguerite. Why else would she have come back?

He let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. His gaze fell back down to the bed. She looked so innocent wrapped up in the pristine white cotton of her modest sleeping gown. The ruffled collar was undone, revealing the delicate curve of her neck and shoulder. Her light brown hair contrasted against her pale complexion. He noticed her face had filled out, and her lips looked fuller, sexier, than he remembered. Visions of his last encounter with Annabelle came to mind... her lips were not nearly as full and lovely as Marguerite's...

Sebastian tensed, sensing a presence. He turned to see Milford hovering in the doorway.

"Good Lord, man, what is it?" He suddenly felt like a child, preparing to take a forbidden piece of candy.

Milford cleared his throat and tugged at his waistcoat to straighten his already immaculate appearance. "The doctor has arrived."

Sebastian turned back towards Marguerite. "Send him up."

"Certainly. I will return in just a moment," Milford warned.

Sebastian looked over his shoulder and gave Milford a sidelong glance as he departed, not missing the underlying warning in his tone. His gaze drifted to Marguerite once more.

She seemed so changed since the last time he saw her. Or, was he the one who had changed in her absence?

"Good evening, my lord."

Sebastian tensed and turned toward the door.

Dr. Dandridge hustled into the room and inclined his head politely.

"Good evening, Doctor. I will leave you to your examination, but please attend to her well. She is my betrothed."

Dr. Dandridge's small eyes widened at that statement. "Of course, my lord," he huffed excitedly, and hurried forward. He set his black bag on the end of the bed. "I will do everything in my power to ensure she is able to wed you very soon, yes, very soon indeed." He rubbed the circulation into his thick hands before examining the patient.

"Thank you." Sebastian couldn't help but wonder about the good doctor's sudden enthusiasm. If he didn't know better he would think the good doctor was aware of his intimate relations with his wife, and was more than happy to hear that Sebastian was going to be occupied elsewhere soon.

Sebastian would have to agree since Annabelle had been even more eager and demanding in bed than usual. Looking at the good doctor now, he could see why.

His mind drifted of its own accord back to the last time he had visited Annabelle.

THE DANDRIDGE'S ♦ LONDON TOWNHOUSE

"What took you so long?" Annabelle shrugged out of her robe. The frothy pink material pooled on the ground at her feet. She stepped out of it with only her stockings and slippers on. Her wild red hair was swept up in a messy coiffure and her blue eyes were smudged with makeup. If he didn't know better he would think she had been crying.

"I told you, I had things to attend to." Sebastian didn't like her tone and thought about walking right back out the door.

"And I told you to come earlier because I have no idea when Adam will be home."

Sebastian exhaled heavily and removed his greatcoat.

Lifting her leg onto the chair she made a show of adjusting her stocking. With a wicked little smile, she turned slightly, and ran her hands up her body. Cupping her breasts, she toyed with her taut nipples.

Sebastian leaned against the doorframe and watched. Normally, her little display would have evoked an immediate response. At the very least, he would have found it amusing, but not this time.

"What is taking you so long? Get undressed."

Sebastian didn't move. He was suddenly wondering what in the bloody hell he was even doing here.

Annabelle frowned. "Sebastian..." She dropped her leg from the chair. "Take off your clothes, now!"

He cocked his brow at her in warning.

"I've missed you," she said sweetly, coating her earlier outburst with sugar as she made her way over to him and stopped. "I'm cold." She shivered for effect and leaned forward. Nuzzling his neck, she slid her hands over his breeches and squeezed.

He stood there, unresponsive. "Annabelle," he exhaled, "perhaps this is not such a good idea after all." He placed his hands on top of hers.

"Oh, don't be silly." She smiled. "It is merely cold in here. I will warm you up in no time." She rubbed faster.

Sebastian noticed the worry in her voice, the trepidation. He had to admit he felt a little bad, but after Marguerite left him, something changed. He changed, he supposed.

Annabelle was not easily deterred though. She leaned forward and unfastened his breeches. Not even bothering to remove his boots, she pulled down his breeches. Smiling coyly, she pushed him backward into the chair and knelt down in front of him. "See isn't this better?" Reaching up she pulled the pins from her hair.

The length tumbled over his bare thighs, tickling them.

Leaning forward, she kissed the trail of dark hair just below his navel, down his taut stomach and then took his length into her mouth.

Inhaling sharply, he gripped the chair. "Yes, that's it."

Some of the stress he had been feeling began to fade away. He closed his eyes as she coaxed him to life with her tireless ministrations. Increasing the pressure with her lips, she suckled his length, teasing him with her tongue.

He threaded his fingers in her hair. "Hmmm, that's right love," he urged. His jaw clenched as she took him further into her mouth. Reaching out, he brushed her hair back and helped her move her down until she took him to the back of her throat.

"Yes, that's it." He held her head in place... he was so close...

She knew it too. She jerked her head back. "Sebastian!" She stood up. "What about me?"

He cracked a lid open. "What about you?"

She reached up and wiped the spittle from her mouth. "You are not funny." Leaning forward, she pressed her hands against his chest, and climbed on top of his lap, straddling him. Reaching down, she guided his length inside her body. "Isn't this better?"

Sebastian shrugged. He would have preferred her finishing what she already started.

"Sebastian," she sighed in exasperation, guiding his length back inside her body—he kept slipping out. Again, she reached down to guide him back but he was losing his rigidness fast. "What's the matter with you?"

"I don't know," he said. "I guess I am not in the mood any longer."

Her eyes widened. "What? You can't mean that. This is the only time I will be able to see you for at least a month."

"I guess I can see you after, then." Although if the truth were to be told, he wasn't too worried about it.

"Please, Sebastian," she begged. Leaning forward once more, she kissed his chest and neck as her fingers caressed the slippery wetness, squeezing and then rubbing.

"Annabelle..." He grabbed hold of her hand. "You are rubbing my skin off."

"Oh don't be silly." She ignored him and rubbed her breasts against his chest.

Sebastian threaded his hands in his hair. "Damn it!"

"What's wrong?"

"Sorry, love, but this is not working."

"You just need a little of Annabelle's sugar and you will be right as rain." Reaching out she grabbed hold of his length again and squeezed harder.

In sudden pain, his breath hitched. "Sorry, sweet. I just do not see this happening tonight." He placed his hand over hers and pushed her back.

"Nonsense Sebastian," she whined. "Try to clear your mind, I know I can make it work." Her face twisted in an angry pout as she stood up. Walking over to the bed, she twitched her bare ass back and forth and made a big show of climbing up on the bed.

Sebastian stood up, refastened his breeches and walked over to the bed.

She smiled up at him and reached down between her legs to toy with herself.

He watched her for a moment. Nothing. He felt nothing. There was no inclination whatsoever to take her up on the invitation she was so blatantly offering him. "I think I am going to go." He buttoned up his shirt.

"You're leaving?" She sat up. Anger flashed in her eyes. This time, she did not attempt to mask her frustration.

"Yes, Annabelle, I believe I am," Sebastian said without hesitation, surprised by his own candor.

"Well, take a good long look because if you leave now, this is the last time you will see me," she warned vehemently, fuming. "Do you understand?"

Sebastian pulled on his waistcoat. "Well, if that is the way it has to be."

Her blue eyes ignited with a combination of shock and fury.

Still, he felt nothing. It was funny. Shouldn't her remark evoke some feeling from inside? But there was nothing. No sadness, anger, or remorse.

"Goodbye, Annabelle," he said and then turned on his heel and walked away. Her angry screams followed him out the door.

♦

His mind came back to the present. He looked back over at Marguerite lying on the bed. How sweet and innocent she appeared. Yes, he believed the good doctor was right... he may have someone else to occupy his time after all.

♦

An hour later, Sebastian watched from the window as Dr. Dandridge hoisted his heavy form into the waiting carriage. The footman closed the door and the carriage pulled away.

The prognosis was clear. Marguerite had a mild concussion and should be right as rain in no time at all. Dr. Dandridge even went so far as to say that he saw no reason why Sebastian could not wed her within the week. And if the good doctor had an ulterior motive, he did not outwardly show it. Sebastian wondered briefly if the good doctor would pass the news of his betrothed's return on to his wife. Knowing Annabelle, she would be livid. Well, such was life. He really didn't care.

Turning away from the window, he strode toward the library, intent on getting a drink of his finest. He was barely inside the doors when he pulled up short in his progression.

"There you are, de Winter," Devlin said, turning fully around. He was holding an overfilled snifter of brandy. "I wondered where you had gotten to."

Sebastian quelled his irritation, watching Devlin Renquist, the new Lord of Hawthorne, his Aunt Isabelle's rakehell of a husband, sip his finest in his stead. The aged liquid sloshed over the side of his glass and spilled onto the carpet.

"Sorry, de Winter," Devlin said absently and took another drink. "This is good stuff." He lifted his glass, and more of the liquid spilled onto the carpet.

Ignoring the mess, Sebastian took a breath and walked over to get a drink of his own. "So, Renquist, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?" He really did not care for the man at all. However, he had been supportive when Marguerite disappeared, so Sebastian supposed he could afford him some kind of allowance. "What finds you out and about at this hour?"

"Oh, I was out for my evening ride and decided to take a moment to check on you." He tugged on his jacket, smoothing a wrinkle. "I wanted to see how you are faring in these difficult times and all that."

"How considerate of you." Sebastian wasn't buying it. "But surely you did not ride all this way simply to check on me?" Hawthorne Manor bordered his property, but it was at least a good hour's ride away.

Devlin brushed his hand over the sleeve of his jacket, smoothing out another nonexistent wrinkle. "Oh, you do read me so well. I hate to admit, but with your Aunt Isabelle and my sister Judith both in attendance, the walls of Hawthorne have a way of closing in on a man."

Sebastian splashed brandy in his own glass and lifted it up. He shook his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, although I do love my aunt dearly, well, let's just say, better you than me."

Devlin chuckled and shook his head in agreement. "Touché. Really, old boy, how are you faring? It has been quite some time since her disappearance."

"How am I faring?" Sebastian placed his glass on the mantel and stared down into the flames of the fire. "Funny you should ask." He paused and looked over his shoulder at Devlin. "It seems my elusive bride has returned to me."

Devlin coughed and spewed a good deal of his drink on the carpet.

Sebastian didn't mind the spill that time. He stepped forward and patted him on his back until his coughing fit subsided.

Devlin pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. "You have got to be kidding me? I am telling you, de Winter, I had no idea you had such a sick sense of humor."

Sebastian lifted his glass and took a drink. "I am absolutely serious. She is upstairs... resting." He walked back to the fireplace and set his glass down on the mantle. Perhaps, resting upstairs, was not quite the right turn of phrase.

All color drained from Renquist's face.

Sebastian walked over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, he smirked into the darkness. It served him right, he thought.

"Unconscious is better." He turned from the window and took a deep breath. "Yes, Renquist, she is abed, upstairs, completely and totally unconscious." He dropped the curtain and walked back over to the mantle. Lifting his glass, he turned and sat down heavily in one of the winged chairs in front of the fire. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes.

Renquist followed his lead and sat just as heavily in the neighboring chair. "Bloody hell."

Sebastian lifted his glass in a silent salute and bade him a "Bloody hell," as well.

LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING

Hawthorne Estate – Victorian England

"THAT Bitch!" Judith Alexandra Beauchamp screamed. "Will she never die?" She pressed her fingertips to her temples, pacing the length of the study. Her dark blue, silk skirt, swirled out around her ankles.

"Calm down, love," Renquist said, trying to soothe Judith's temper. Casually sipping his brandy, he watched her display of outrage while admiring her petite frame and delicate features, silently hoping her small, but well- proportioned breasts, would soon escape their confines.

People on a whole were so gullible. They believed what they wanted to see, and although he and Judith shared slight similarities in their coloring, he would not have bought for a moment they were brother and sister. Isabelle, his newly acquired bride, was one of those people. Lucky for him—mayhap not too lucky for her, though.

Judith stopped pacing and stared at the elegant blonde man in front of her. He was tall in stature, but on the thin side. He leaned against the mantel in a nonchalant pose, staring at her with the most penetrating black eyes.

"In all likelihood, she will not even remember what happened." He walked over to the sideboard to refill his drink. "You did say her back was turned. We can always spin the story to our satisfaction and say the bump on her head caused her to think things happened, which really did not."

"I certainly hope for both our sakes that is the case, Devlin. If not, let me remind you, should she indeed remember, we will be ruined. Ruined, Devlin! Do you understand?" Judith nearly screamed out the last.

Devlin cringed. He did not take kindly to anyone yelling at him, or in his direction, for that matter. Clutching his glass a little too tightly, his ire rose. "Well, sweet, if you recall, you are the one that fouled up the attempt in the first place."

"How was I to know she would survive? I hit her as hard as I could! There was blood pouring out of her head. At least—I think that was blood. I really can't say for sure though—with all that hair she always had pulled up into some concoction her maid created." Judith rubbed her arms for effect. "My arms still hurt just thinking how hard I hit her. It jarred me terribly." She delicately shuddered as if the memory still caused her great pain. "If Magdalene, de Winter's blasted housekeeper hadn't been yelling for her, I would have stayed to make sure my strike was true. But someone had to go in her stead, or else that meddlesome housekeeper, who I might add oversteps her boundaries quite often, would have come into the gallery. Of course, she would have assumed the worst."

Renquist chuckled. "Love, as far as the housekeeper assuming the worst, let's be honest, she certainly would have been correct in her assumption. You are the culprit in this. You did do the dastardly deed, remember?"

"Because you wouldn't, Devlin. And if you will recall, I told you to take her riding and dump her in that ravine de Winter's father fell into." She stomped her foot. "In addition, I might add, if you could control your most basic urges, she would not have seen us together." She rolled her eyes. "Of course, it was her own fault, if she were not so blasted nosey, none of this would have occurred in the first place."

"That is neither here nor there," he said. "I say, you should be thanking me, not scolding me. At least give me credit for my acting abilities. Do you not realize how difficult it was for me to feign concern?" He refiled his drink. "Not to mention having to listen to de Winter persecute himself for her disappearance. I say, I should be given a lead role on Drury Lane after the performance I gave." Turning, he crossed the room with his replenished drink and inspected his reflection in the mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he continued, "I must admit, I am a bit unsettled with her mysterious return and with another blow to her head...it does seem a bit too tidy."

Devlin paused and crossed his arms across his chest, tapping his chin, contemplating... there was always the legend to consider, stories were told, rumors spread... Ravenhurst was an ominous place, to be sure.

What happened to all of those ill-gotten treasures? What blackened the noble knight's heart? What really happened to the poor woman? Was it the house itself? Or some other dark force at play?

Bits and pieces of the legend had been swirling about for years and years. Everyone told a slightly different version... some added... some took away parts. No one ever knew the truth of the legend itself, but it surrounded the ancient edifice, just like the heavy curtain of fog that never seemed to fade.

Over the years, the legend took on a life of its own... like a living, breathing thing. The only time Devlin ever heard mention of the legend was in harried tones, whispered in dark taverns, or the dim corners of crowded ballrooms. They were always hushed as though someone or something was listening.

Forcing his attention back to Judith, he tried to shake off the sudden unease that spread over him. "I do wonder where she has been all this time?" He shook his head. "I say, it is a good thing I do not give credence to magic or mystical rubbish, or else I believe we would both be in for a day of reckoning." Despite telling Judith and reassuring himself of that fact, it did not stop him from shivering slightly within.

"Well, that is certainly something to think on at a later date. But since we have no answers in the foreseeable future, may I suggest we find something else to occupy our time?" Judith pulled down most of her bodice to expose herself to Devlin as she made her way across the room. Standing on her toes, she leaned into him, and ran her hand down the length of his chest to the place she so liked to frequent of late.

Devlin watched her. He knew she was keeping something from him. He could always tell. Nevertheless, he would bide his time, and eventually, he would find out. In the meantime, he planned to take full advantage of the delectable treat she was offering so freely. She did so aim to please when she had secrets to keep. "Since my dear wife will be indisposed for an undetermined amount of time, may I suggest we continue this particular conversation upstairs?" He smiled and took Judith's hand, placing it through his arm.

"Yes, that sounds perfect." Judith smiled.

Arm in arm, they climbed the stairs to the bedroom—a knowing smile crossed his face, for Devlin knew what pleasures were to come in the not so distant future.

NOT ALONE

Ravenhurst Estate – Victorian England

THE early morning sun spilled slowly through the windows, chasing shadows from the room. He sat silently in the corner where the light did not reach, watching her every move. Each step she took in the bright morning light gave him another glimpse of her naked body through the prim little gown she was wearing. Her long dark hair tumbled down her back, barely touching the top of her heart-shaped derriere. She stopped in the middle of the room, slowly turning, giving him another glimpse of her full round breasts as the palest shade of pink, cresting the tips, came into view. He had no idea she was such a delectable treat. Pity he did not know this from the start else he may not have been so opposed to the marriage in the first place.

♦

The bright sun vanquished almost all the gloom. At least that is what it felt like to Katherine as she padded barefoot across the room to do some investigating before she left.

The lovely, floral carpet absorbed her every step in the softness of the pile. A huge mirror was against the wall on the far end of the room, its frame ornately carved with vines and flowers. Three large, gold, skeleton keys clung to the tops of the vines themselves, hanging. She lifted her hand to touch one but caught sight of her reflection in the mirror instead.

The bright sun slid across her borrowed sleeping gown, turning the billows of white fabric transparent in its light. Her hair stuck out all over her head—one long curl jutted out to the right while another formed a knotty ball on the top. Dark circles loomed under her eyes. "Good grief," she grumbled, looking at her reflection. "What the heck happened to me?"

Damn champagne—she knew she shouldn't have drank so much—it gave her blackouts. She glanced down at the gown and pulled it outward. The bottom was full and ruffled and... Yep—completely see through... Weird.

Question to self: "Where did you get this gown?

Better question to self: "Who in the heck put you in this gown?" Groaning, she ran her hands over her face as images of that scenario flitted through her mind, making her face burn.

Letting out a breathy sigh, she dropped her hands. "Well it's a little late to worry about that now, Katherine." She turned away from the mirror. Halfway across the room, her breath caught in her throat and she froze in mid-step. She had a bad feeling she was not alone.

Heart pounding, she slowly turned... in the corner, where the sunlight could not reach, there was a chair, and in that chair was a man... his face hidden in the shadows.

Katherine's heart jumped into double time, thumping erratically against her ribcage.

Emerging from the shadows, the man in the chair stood, and stepped into the light...

"Ah... um!" She crossed her legs and tried to place her arms over her chest to cover her body in the transparent gown. She knew it didn't really work. She could tell because he smiled and it wasn't a normal smile... at least not on his face. It was a heart stopping one. She knew this because her own heart stopped in that moment.

"Would you like this?" He lifted a light wool plaid blanket off the back of the chair.

Katherine gulped reflexively. "Yes, please." Her face bloomed with color.

The carpet muted the sound of Sebastian's brightly polished hessians as he closed the distance between them. He lifted the blanket, shook it out, and placed it across her shoulders. Her messy hair tumbled forward, covering most of her face as she stared at the floor. Her hand clutched the blanket tightly to the front of her body, smashing her breasts under the fabric.

"Forgive my intrusion," he said simply. "I found myself particularly concerned with your well-being after our collision in the hall earlier and wanted to ascertain you were not harmed."

The deep sound of his voice made her mouth go dry. It was rich and dark, just like her favorite chocolate and not surprisingly, she found it had a similar effect. She moistened her lips, forcing her gaze up to his.

Big mistake.

His stormy gray eyes bore down into hers. She wanted to say something, anything, but she could find no words. Well that wasn't completely true... hot... wow... oh my. They all would have worked but she wouldn't say any of those out loud, ever.

"Are you all right?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

Katherine tried to find her voice, it was stuck somewhere between oh my and holy crap. "Yeah... uh... I think." She swayed forward, she couldn't help it. He smelled wonderful... fresh. Like the wind, with a hint of leather, sandalwood, and something headier...the pungent scent burned her nose a bit. A sudden wave of déjà vu hit her, making her feel woozy. She reached up and placed her hand on his chest... his muscles flexed under her hand as he reached out to hold her in place. Trying to steady her, he pulled forward.

Her legs were giving out. She leaned against him even more and slowly lifted her eyes from his chest, to his chin... to his mouth...

Sebastian gathered the blanket in one hand, returning her unwavering gaze. It was strange. The look she was giving him confused him. He remembered all too clearly the look of hatred in Marguerite's eyes the last time she saw him. Now, suddenly, she was looking at him hungrily, like Annabelle had, scratch that, maybe not quite like Annabelle but something similar. Like she wanted to be touched by him or at the very least kissed by him. He wouldn't mind doing either, but something gave him pause. This was not the Marguerite he remembered. Something did not add up and he did not like it one bit. She was looking at him like a love-struck girl. Had she changed so much? Was she no longer an innocent? Even so, why would she look at him with longing? He couldn't fathom the answers to any of his questions. The longer his gaze held hers, the more her deep blue eyes drew him in. Suddenly he could care less what she was doing—he wanted to taste her...

Lifting his hand, he gingerly placed his finger under her chin and slowly lowered his face to hers... his lips hovering just above her full lips...

A knock sounded at the door, breaking the spell.

Sebastian dropped his hand and stepped away. "Enter," he called out.

The door creaked open and a young maid scampered into the room carrying a covered tray. "I have the food my lord." Bobbing her head briefly, she rushed into the room and set the tray on the small table in front of the fire. After she arranged the chairs on either side of the table, she turned and tended to the fire.

Sebastian curiously watched Marguerite. He noticed the dark blush of color that crept up her lovely neck and spread across her cheeks, and the way her eyes darted about the room, looking at anything but him—was that embarrassment he saw... apprehension? He wasn't sure which, but he began to feel like an unprecedented cad. A true gentleman would not make untoward advances toward a young woman, especially one who had been unconscious. Of course, he did have a singular excuse—he was not a true gentleman.

The maid threw a few pieces of wood on the fire and stood. "Excuse me, my lord." She dropped into a curtsy.

"Yes Tabby."

"Is there anything else, my lord?" she asked in a small voice and straightened once again.

Katherine pulled the blanket around her body closer, listening to him speak to the maid... his tone authoritative, his clothing unusual, his face... perfection. Where did he come from? She didn't remember him from the party last night. Even though it was obvious he was there since he was still dressed in period attire and so was the maid, correction maids, since she was different from the one she saw earlier, which was just weird. She didn't remember the maids wearing ugly gray gowns at the party. Not that she really cared what the maids wore.

Lifting his hand, he ran it through sinfully dark hair. The long glossy strands fell effortlessly back into place. She chewed on her lip, her eyes traveling lower, back to his lips. She couldn't help but wonder if he would have actually kissed her and if he did, would she have kissed him back. Her little voice laughed at her. Please, no question about it—yep, she totally would have kissed him. She was a little sad the moment was now gone.

"Yes, Tabby there is. Please draw our guest a bath," he answered smoothly, glancing back in her direction.

Katherine zeroed in on the last part of the conversation. Is that why he pulled away? Oh no, did she smell? Please don't stink... please don't stink. She inhaled deeply trying to see if she stunk. She couldn't smell anything but that didn't mean she didn't stink. She wanted to chase after the maid into the bath, hide her face in complete and utter embarrassment, but didn't. She stayed right where she was and did the only thing she could do... she stared stupidly at the carpet.

Sebastian took a step forward but stopped himself. "Please sit down and eat something." He lifted his arm towards the chair.

Katherine's face felt hot. "Oh-kay." She sat down quickly in the closet chair. There were ten yellow flowers in a cluster on the carpet under his shiny black boots. The aroma of delicious food wafted towards her making her stomach growl with pangs of hunger. She squeezed her eyes shut—hating her stupid stomach.

Sebastian cleared his throat, twice. He was attempting to get her to look up from the floor at him but it was not working. At this rate he would be here all day. "After you have finished your repast and bathe, of course, I would like for you to meet me down in the library."

Katherine's fingers gripped the arms of the chair. Oh no, did he just stress the word bathe more than necessary. She felt sick. "Certainly," she answered him, her voice barely audible.

"My lord, the bath is drawn."

"Thank you Tabby. Please come back shortly to help your lady dress."

"Of course, my lord, I will be back directly," the maid answered quickly before she hurried from the room.

Sebastian stood beside her for a moment more—nothing. She didn't move an inch, which he thought was a bit strange. He leaned down slightly trying to see her face. "Very well then, I shall leave you to your meal."

Katherine's body jerked slightly. He was close... too close. Her eyes flew up to his. Another big mistake. He had a strange look on his face, and his smile looked strained. Granted she didn't really know him well enough to tell if his smile was real or not—but it didn't look good. He looked irritated, which couldn't be right—what did she do? Her mouth dropped open as he turned to leave without another word. The door made a soft clicking noise as he pulled it tightly closed behind him.

Katherine fell back against the cushion of the chair in relief and removed the cover on the food. She was starving. Not surprisingly, she ate everything on the plate, even though she had no idea what half of it was.

When the maid knocked and reentered the room, she was practically licking the plate clean.

"My lady, is there anything else you need?"

Katherine set the plate back down on the table, the maid's eyes following her every move. The girl was not more than fourteen or fifteen years old. Her hair was in the same style as the previous maid (the one that said her face was a mess) but this girl had light blonde hair, styled much the same way with one exception—this girl's hair looked clean. Her clear blue eyes wrinkled around the corners, giving her a tentative smile.

Katherine smiled back. "Actually... Tabby?"

"Yes, milady?" she answered pleasantly.

"Could you help me find something other than this to wear?" She lifted up the hem of the frilly gown.

"No worries milady. All of your belongings are just where you left them. I will have a nice gown laid out for you by the time you are finished with your bath. Do you need me to help you bathe this evening?"

Katherine was still trying to sort out what the maid said about her clothing, when the bath comment soaked in. "Oh, heck no," she laughed out.

The girl gave her a strange look.

She cleared her throat. "I will be fine on my own, thank you." Help with my bath? Seriously? What was with these people?

"If you don't mind, then, I will carry the tray down and return shortly to help you dress, if that is your wish."

"Sure, great, I mean... uh, that will be fine." Katherine tried her best to sound refined and sophisticated, but if the look on the girls face was any indication on how she was doing so far, she was failing miserably.

The maid quickly grabbed the tray up off the table and took off across the room. She paused at the door. "I will return shortly."

"Okay. Thank you." Once the girl was gone, she leaned back into the chair again and rubbed her hands over the slick damask material. She smiled. She could certainly get used to this kind of service. This must be what it felt like to be a royal. With a full stomach, she stood and walked over to the bath.

The tiles were cold on her bare feet and slightly wet from the hot steam in the room from the bathwater. There was a claw-footed tub, positioned to the side. Lifting up the frilly gown, she pulled it over her head, dropped it on the floor, and then climbed in the tub.

♦

Fifteen minutes later, Katherine climbed from the bath. She would have liked to stay in it longer but she knew she should at least try to hurry so the mysterious man wasn't waiting for her... forever. She had no idea if anyone else was left from the party. She guessed she would find out soon enough.

The little dinky linen towel the maid had set beside the tub was barely enough to dry her body off properly. There was however, a robe draped across a lone wooden chair that sat in the corner of the room. The rich, blue fabric felt heavy, like brocade, and had a dark corded edge. She lifted it off the chair. It was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but it was also fashioned in the Victorian style. What was with these people?

Tabby was true to her word, she had clothing laid out on the bottom of the bed and not just any clothing either. There was an incredible, light celadon-colored evening dress with a satin bodice with a full pleated skirt and delicate crocheted buttons down the front. Reaching out, she fingered the material, it felt divine. Ned would freak if he saw these, she thought, running her hand over the slick material. Beside the gown were undergarments, stockings and another pair of toe crushers that matched the darker edging on the gown. Just looking at them made her wiggle her toes in the carpet.

"Well hopefully you won't be as bad," she said, looking down at the shoes. Which reminded her, where were her shoes, dress, and "borrowed" necklace? It wasn't on her neck, obviously. Briefly scanning the room, she noticed her gown wasn't anywhere in sight. Ned would kill her if she lost his gown.

There was a large wardrobe at the end of the room and she walked over to it. It could only be described as a "Narnia" wardrobe. She wondered if it had a secret door to a different world hidden in the back. Just as soon as the fanciful thought entered her mind a gentle breeze blew across her skin, making her shiver slightly. The hair on the nape of her neck rose. Instinctively she pulled her hand back from the handle....

A light rap sounded at the door.

She jumped.

"Yes, come in," she called out, with her hand pressed to her chest.

The door creaked loudly and Tabby peered around the corner with a cheerful expression on her face.

Katherine smiled back at her, relieved, even though the noise reminded her of a haunted house. "Tabby! Thank goodness, it's you."

Tabby walked around the door, and smoothed her hands down the front of her apron. "You look like you had a fright."

"This place makes some strange noises doesn't it?" She dropped her hand back to her side.

"I would think you'd be used to it by now," Tabby said offhandedly and hurried across the room to the dressing table. She picked up a hairbrush. "Now milady just come over to the dressing table, and get comfortable. I will be fixing your lovely hair in no time."

Katherine walked over and sat in the little chair in front of the gilded dressing table. An uneasy feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach and she didn't think it was merely from drinking too much the evening before. No, she wouldn't be that lucky.

DENIAL

Ravenhurst Estate – Victorian England

A short while later Katherine stood in front of the gilded mirror, admiring her reflection. Tabby pulled her hair loosely back and intertwined a matching ribbon through it. She had to admit she looked even better than she did at the ball the previous evening.

"His lordship is certainly going to like the looks of you, milady," Tabby said, eyeing her appreciatively.

"Do you really think so?" Katherine nervously ran her hands down the length of the gown.

"Oh yes! Only a blind man could not see how beautiful you are."

Katherine blushed from the maid's praise and looked back in the mirror. Even through her own critical eyes, she had to admit, she really did look beautiful.

"Now milady, you must be off so as to not keep his lordship waiting for you."

Katherine still had a knot twisted in her belly but tried to ignore it. With one last look in the mirror, and another encouraging smile from Tabby, she left the room.

Once in the hall however, she thought about turning around and going right back into the room. The darkly paneled walls in the hallway made it feel creepy, and the small flickering sconces did not do much to push the gloom away either. Her skirts made the softest swishing noise against the runner carpet as she passed several closed doors set back into the wall. The alcoves were big enough for a person to easily hide within the shadows. That thought made her pick up her pace. Walking briskly, her head swung from the left and to the right.

"How big is this place?"

By the time she made it to the top of the staircase, she had a light sheen of perspiration coating her skin and she was slightly winded. Placing her hands on the railing, she looked down into the foyer. She had the perfect bird's eye view. It was not what she remembered from the previous evening. Perhaps she did not see the foyer as clearly as she thought. It was crowded. Who knew? Maybe she was at another part of the estate entirely.

A shiver of dread swept over her. She told herself she didn't care, but something felt off, as if she was in the same place, but it wasn't the same. It didn't make sense.

Taking a bracing breath, she lifted the hem of her gown and gripped the banister with her other hand.

Walking carefully down the stairs, her hand slid easily on the polished wood. She concentrated on not falling the entire time. Once at the bottom she lifted her eyes and froze... a large ugly Gargoyle leered in her direction—now that thing she remembered from the night before. She stuck her tongue out at it and shivered when it seemed to sneer back in her direction. Hugging the railing, she stepped around the banister, trying to keep as far away from 'ugly' the gargoyle, as possible.

Walking forward, her heels made a soft clicking sound on the marbled floor, echoing throughout the hall as she made her way over to a huge set of doors to her right that were cracked open. Light flickered from underneath, causing shadows to move back and forth. "This better be the library."

One would have thought the lord of the estate would have at least given her an escort. And where were the rest of the servants? Another distinct chill passed over her body and she wrapped her arms about her waist, trying to squelch the uneasy feeling gnawing inside her stomach. Peering through the crack in the doors, she spotted the man from earlier. His broad back was facing her. Again, she noticed he was dressed in period clothing. This time he wore a smartly tailored black coat and trousers. Regardless of her trepidation, she couldn't help feeling a small tingle of excitement at the prospect of speaking to him again. Gathering her nerve, she took a deep breath and pushed against the edge of the door.

The door slid quickly inside its pocket, banging loudly.

Sebastian swung his head around at the noise.

She cringed. "Sorry."

Sebastian was momentarily speechless. He did not know what he expected but the girl in front of him now was not who he remembered in the least. No, she looked beautiful, breathtaking even. Funny, he could not remember her ever looking so lovely before, or so grown up.

"Please, have a seat." He inclined his head toward one of the chairs in front of the fire.

Katherine practically ran to the chair and sat down.

Sebastian frowned. "I see you made your way here unaided." He walked casually toward the sideboard across the room. "I'll admit I had wondered if you would remember. It has been some time."

A crease formed between her brows. Been sometime... what? Why were these people talking to her like she lived here? First the maid and now him...

"Would you care for a drink?"

"Uh..., that would be nice, thank you." She pressed her now freezing fingers to her hot face.

Stop it. Stop it. She was psyching herself out. Feeling nervous, she put her hands on the arms of the chair, then down to her lap. Nothing felt right.

Sebastian picked up the decanter and poured two hefty splashes of scotch into a pair of glasses as his mind involuntarily conjured an image of her body—the way it had looked earlier in the sun, through the transparency of her gown which left nothing to the imagination. Not like the gown she was wearing now. He shook himself. Damn. What was he thinking about that for?

In his own defense, it had been a while since he had been with a woman. He turned away from the sideboard, and carried the glasses across the room, vowing to remedy that problem very soon. He held out the glass to her and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He wasn't sure why he felt he needed to do that but she did look a bit skittish. Actually, she reminded him of his prize filly... beautiful, but easily spooked. And that was the last thing he wanted to do—he needed her.

Katherine tried to smile at him but it came out looking more wary than friendly. She reached out and took the proffered glass. "Thank you," she said, and immediately lifted the heavy crystal glass to her lips and took a large gulp... too large. The liquor burned... bad. Her eyes teared up but she forced herself to swallow anyway. It was either that or she was going to spit the liquor back out all over the front of her gown or his shirt. Big mistake—her throat constricted. She tried to fight the reflexive urge to cough it up but that only made her eyes tear up even more. She leaned forward and set the glass heavily down on the table and exhaled loudly to lessen the burning sensation—she felt like a fire breathing dragon. "Good grief, this stuff is strong!"

"Yes, it does have a hefty kick." He took a small sip, watching her over the rim of his glass as her face turned several shades of red. Lowering his glass, a rare smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Are you all right?"

She wheezed. "I'm good. Gre... at..."

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out to her.

Taking the starched linen from his outstretched hand, she covered her face, squeezing her eyes shut in humiliation. After the fire sensation in her mouth died down, she lifted the handkerchief away from her face and looked up at him.

Immediately she wanted to cover her face again. His perfect face was an unreadable mask. He probably thought she was an idiot. Way to go Katherine! She smiled tentatively up at him, neatly folded the fine white linen handkerchief and handed it back to him.

"No, you keep it," he said, his dark gray eyes glittering with amusement.

She balled the handkerchief up in her hand.

"Are you better? Would you like some water, perhaps?"

"Oh, no, I am fine. I just didn't know this stuff was so strong."

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "It is an acquired taste."

Katherine wondered who in the hell would want to acquire a taste for this crap. But thinking that didn't stop her from lifting the glass and taking a nervous sip, again, anyway. This time it only burned a little bit. She would have asked for water but she knew what that tasted like... even worse. And her stomach still didn't feel too good. No, she would suffer through the liquor.

Sitting up straighter in the chair, she tried to act demure and sophisticated, but if the look on his face was any indication on how she was doing, she was once again, failing miserably.

"So," she said, clearing her throat and setting the glass back down. "Are there any guests leftover from the party? Or am I the only one who overstayed their welcome?" She forced out a laugh, hoping he would reassure her that was not the case.

"Party?" He lifted his dark brow inquisitively. "What party are you speaking of?"

"The one that was held here last night..." She felt sick suddenly. "For the Preservation Ball?"

He narrowed his eyes. What game is she playing? "There was no party here last night, or any other night in the recent past... well... at least, not since you left," he added, his deep voice barely audible.

"What?" Katherine sat forward in the chair. "I never left. I am still here. What are you talking about?" She felt more unsettled by the moment.

"I am talking about when you left me standing at the altar," he said. His annoyance was very clear as he looked at her in disbelief. "Come now, do you really expect me to believe you cannot remember?" he commented snidely, anger flashing in his eyes.

"I did no such thing." Her mouth dropped open from his tone. Taking a breath, she tried to calm her growing ire, not knowing why she was suddenly so angry. It must have been his crappy tone. "With your attitude, I can see why, though," she muttered under her breath.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Sebastian was not sure if he heard her right.

Katherine immediately regretted her words. "Listen, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but, as I said, I came here last night with a friend. I guess he decided to leave me here so he could go off with this other girl..." she tried to explain but ended up trailing off when she saw his face.

It all became painfully clear to Sebastian. He was right. She had been with another, used and tossed aside. And now, what was he supposed to do? Marry her? If he refused, he would lose everything. He took another long pull of his drink.

Katherine started to feel sorry for him. His jaw clenched as though something or someone was inflicting great pain upon him and if she wasn't mistaken that person was her. But she didn't understand the how's or why's. So she tried to placate him. Standing, she reached over and placed her hand on his sleeve. "I am sure he will be back for me soon, so try not to worry overmuch. I'll be gone before you know it."

Cold rage filled his eyes. "Like hell you will!"

Katherine took a reflexive step back, the backs of her legs pressed against the chair.

He ran his hands over his face and then lowered them. "Sorry." He shook his head, making his dark hair fall across his brow.

"It's fine." She sat back down.

"No it's not." Sebastian sat in the chair across from hers. "I don't know how to explain this to you..." he said, pausing, carefully considering his next words. "As far as I am concerned, you made your own bed. You came back to me, whether by your own design or someone else's...." He waited a beat. Maybe she would defend herself, tell him that was not the case. But she didn't. Something twisted deep inside his belly. He raked his hand through his hair. "Actually, I do not really give a damn either way," he exhaled and looked pointedly at her. "You are going to marry me and after that, I could care less what you do. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head in submission, suddenly very afraid. He was out of his freaking mind. What in the hell was he going on about? Marry him? Had she not known better, she might think he was jealous. He certainly looked jealous. How in the hell could he be jealous when he only just met her?

Okay, so maybe there had been a moment earlier in the room, but really, it was only for a moment. Besides, it was not as if he couldn't call her at some point, granted he was acting a little out there but maybe he was just confused or stopped taking his medication... perfect. Maybe she wasn't that desperate, what a shame though, all that gorgeousness going on and he was probably crazier than a loon.

"Good, I am glad you understand." He stood back up.

Katherine reached over and grabbed her glass. The crystal feeling almost warm in her freezing fingers. Her eyes slid back to his face. He was so... she wanted to give him a hug and tell him everything was going to be fine. She shook her head. She didn't know why she was so unaccountably drawn to him, but then again, she didn't have the best track record picking guys. Crazy or not, he did seem familiar. But why? And what was with all the period attire? He was a lot like the man from her work that showed up with the necklace. He seemed so...

She broke out in a cold sweat.

The gentlemen's voice echoed through her mind... "If you wear this necklace when the moon is full and the stars align just right... otherworldly things will happen."

Oh, no, no, no... She looked about the room, which was an exact replica of a Victorian library. Her mind balked. No, it couldn't be the necklace. If she believed that then she might as well start believing in Vampires, the sparkly ones, and why not toss in a wolf or two as well. Heck, if she was going to start buying into all that... she may as well go all in.

Besides, he was probably just some crazy eccentric, anyway. Nothing wrong with that... she tried to tell herself but her mind had other ideas and started to taunt her again.... He thinks you are his missing soon to be bride... okay so that is weird. Weirder still... what happened to her? She probably ran off with a stable lad... Her overactive imagination was in full swing now. She went to a party... got sloshed, and woke up where? What were the odds she happened upon a delectable man, dressed as if he should be in some kind of reenactment troupe, yelling at her because he thought she was another person?

She rubbed her fingers back and forth on the arm of the chair nervously. He stopped pacing at least. Now he was running his hand through his hair making it stand on end. She had a sudden urge to fix it. The muscle in his jaw was tight; he looked so upset.

She tried to rationalize his actions. What if he was convinced she was this other girl? If he thought that, then she must be her twin. And, if she was her twin, what happened to the real girl? She gulped down more of her drink, her eyes never leaving his handsome profile. She welcomed the burn this time.

"May I have another?" She shakily extended her glass out to him.

"Of course." He took the glass from her, and walked back over to the sideboard.

Katherine sat warily back into the chair, watching him from across the room. She was finding it hard to believe he was insane. Maybe after a couple of nights in Bedlam, he would be right as rain.

Ned once told her that was where Victorian gentlemen liked to put women when they were suffering from PMS (premenstrual syndrome). Luckily, Bedlam was not an option now. If she was around during the Victorian timeframe, she was sure she would have been sent off in a one-way carriage ride to that place in the not too distant future. She really needed to get the hell out of here... but how? She looked around the room. The fire hissed and made a crackling noise.

There was no phone, television, or even a computer. The chandelier was gas lit, if she was not mistaken. Okay fine, so maybe there were a few people who really got into historical accuracy, but really, nothing from modern day? That didn't make sense.

Sebastian walked back towards her, scrutinizing her movements. She looked like she was about to bolt straight out of her seat. He wondered if she would run, and if she did, what could he do to stop her. He would be damned if he let her go before he got what he needed, which was a bride, and not just any bride either. Only she would do, thanks to his aunt and that damned codicil.

Controlling his features, he got his emotions in check. He didn't want to frighten her. The last thing he wanted to do was tie her up, but if it came down to it, he would. Of this, he was certain. "Here you go." He handed off her drink and gave her a small smile, meant to reassure.

"Thank you." She took the glass and immediately drank another large sip.

Sebastian resumed his silent vigil in front of the fire. Normally, he never lost control. He was better than that. But she was acting so strange, but then again, the last time he saw her he thought the very same thing.

Who knows, mayhap the blow to her head made her invent things that had not really happened? He read that head injuries could cause all sorts of hallucinations, waking nightmares and such. He also knew people were sent to Bedlam to recover from their maladies, but had yet to hear of one person who actually returned. He certainly hoped that would not be the case with Marguerite... or did he?

Now that was a thought. He could marry her and send her off to Bedlam! Why not? It would take care of his problem, would it not? Now that was something to ponder...

Katherine had an overwhelming urge to bolt from her chair and out of the room. Sitting in one place and not moving was beginning to freak her out. Her mind was spinning uncontrollably. Setting her glass down, she pushed out of the chair and stood. Sneaking peeks at him from under her lashes, she picked her drink back up and casually walked toward the window. With a shaking hand, she pulled the curtain aside. The drape was a dark burnished color and reminded her of the fabric on the bed. It was probably velvet. She was so nervous her hand was sweating. Casually, she dragged her hand down the curtain, wiping the sweat in the folds, hoping he wouldn't notice what she was doing. There was not much to see out the window with the lights on in the room. She saw more of her own reflection than what was outside. It was too dark. Pressing in closer, she tried to see some kind of light off in the horizon that would normally light up some part of the night sky. That was odd.

When she arrived with Ned, there were lights everywhere. She especially enjoyed the view of the village in the distance, like twinkling stars in the night. She looked up at the sky. There was not a cloud in sight. Something was definitely wrong... very, very, wrong, with this entire situation.

Releasing the curtain, the fabric swished back against the wooden floor. "Nice place you have here," she said absently, walking over to the desk and setting her glass down on the polished surface of the wood. A copy of the Scientific Journal dated over one hundred years ago was open on top. The paper was pristine, the ink vibrant. She flipped a few pages, noting how crisp they felt, like new. In this particular copy, steam locomotives were recently invented.

She cleared her throat and looked cautiously towards his back. He was still facing the fire, but she had a feeling he knew exactly where she was the entire time. "So what are your feelings on the new steam locomotive systems?" she asked on a whim, expecting him to laugh and say it happened over a hundred years ago.

Sebastian turned slightly, his expressive gray eyes rounded in surprise. It was not every day a woman wanted to discuss such marvels. He turned fully, warming to the subject and inclined his head in her direction. "I see you have found the journal. It is all quite fascinating, really. Imagine using steam engines as a way to traverse all over the countryside. I have to say, I have found myself, as well as many others who have great hopes for the future with this new form of transportation..."

He continued, but she stopped listening. She didn't need to, not after having seen firsthand the expression of excitement that lit up his face as he spoke about traversing the countryside in a... train—A train? Good Lord, what would he do if she asked about a plane? Katherine gulped air, trying to pull it into her lungs as she walked in a trance-like state over to the floor to ceiling bookcase on the wall. Rows of leather-embossed books with gilded pages lined the shelves. She pulled one out and looked inside, hoping it said Easton Press, or something similar. That was not the case though. Each book she pulled out had an even earlier copyright than the last, all before the nineteen hundreds. Some even had Roman Numerals, which predated copyrights, and yet, they looked as new as the hundred-year-old Scientific Journal she had just read. All of the books were in impeccable condition, no yellowing, no spine damage, not even an earmark.

The more she looked at the things in the room, the more unsettled she became. The house may have been historically accurate, but shouldn't there have been something from the modern day around the room? Or in the room where she was staying, somewhere? Nothing even remotely came close to modern day conveniences. The longer she thought about it, the stronger her unease grew.

Everything was from the past. Looking across the room at him, leaning against the mantel, she knew somehow that he was not from modern day either. His look, mannerisms, choice of words, and everything about him were gentle reminders of a forgotten time.

Her knees gave out and she grabbed hold of the desk to steady herself. She ran her hand across the polished wood, the burled mahogany wood on the desk a vibrant orange. It was perfect as well... not a ding, dent, or scratch marring the surface... which was almost impossible on a piece this old. It had to be a reproduction, even though, somehow, she knew it wasn't.

Her face felt hot. She pulled herself along the desk, holding on as she made her way back to the sideboard. She took a breath while she poured a drink. Mindful of his watchful eyes, she downed it in one gulp. She didn't care, not one wit. It was either that or she was going to lose it, completely.

The strange gentleman's warnings about the necklace echoed in her mind again, along with Ned's words about the treasure of Ravenhurst. Were they connected? Did the damn dress have something to do with it? Her mind discarded that notion as quickly as another entered it. It was the necklace. The blood-red stone, was that the treasure? Oh no! What have I done?

The glass clanked loudly on the desk as she set it down. Sebastian turned towards her. She looked at him warily, gauging the distance between them. She gathered her skirts in her hand and walked quickly to the door. Her mind screamed, "Get out before it's too late," but she had nowhere to go.

"Excuse me. I am feeling a bit under the weather. Would you mind if I went back to my room for the evening?" she asked nervously, watching him from the doorway, one foot on the foyer tiles.

Sebastian rolled his shoulders and then lifted his hand to the back of his neck, and rubbed it for a moment.

Katherine looked at his beautiful face, it was stern... unreadable. What would he do? She leaned forward a little for effect. It worked on Ned.

Sebastian's expression softened a bit. He had to admit she looked deathly pale, and judging by the way she was leaning over, perhaps something disagreed with her stomach.

"You know, Marguerite, you may call me Sebastian. In case it has slipped your mind, we are to be married soon and we will be on a very familiar basis shortly. Do you not think it would be prudent for you to start acting the part?"

Katherine blinked. His fiancées name was Marguerite. That was a pretty name. "Yes, of course, uh... Sebastian... if you say so." She tried to smile at him, but couldn't. She felt ill. She glanced over at the gargoyle—it looked like it was laughing at her. She narrowed her eyes at it, preparing to say something like... 'stop looking at me'... but didn't. Instead, she shoved her shaking hands into the folds of her dress, not even bothering to see if he watched this time, and walked quickly from the room, directly to the front door.

A little voice mocked her from somewhere... Run, run, run... if you can. She wasn't sure if it came from her mind or somewhere else. She suddenly wondered if this was how Dorothy felt when she woke up in Oz with all the little people squawking, "Ding -dong, the witch is dead!" She looked down at her shoes. Nope, they definitely were not ruby slippers and she was no Dorothy. Her mind balked again at the absurdity of it all.

Could it be possible that she somehow managed to travel into the past? Or was she simply losing her mind? Maybe it was a dream. She had to think. Turning away from the door, she grabbed the banister.

Another little voice snickered in the distance, echoing through the foyer. This time she heard little feet running away. Her entire body shuddered with fear. She wasn't sure if she was hearing actual things, or if her mind was playing tricks on her. Could it really be true? Could she have actually traveled into the past, where a man—well, a really good-looking man, believed she was his missing fiancée? A place where servants waited on her every whim. Could this be her new reality?

Katherine closed her eyes and gripped the banister tighter, still trying to fight the urge not to run out in the dark of night, screaming like a fool. She took a deep breath and then another. Calm settled over her. She could find no other explanation... it had to be true. And why would this be the only possible explanation?

It was simple, really.

She had to be in the past because she couldn't make this shit up if she tried... that's why.

DESPERATION

Hawthorne Manor Cellar - Isabelle

WATER ran in rivulets down the side of Isabelle's mud-laden prison, making a splashing sound every time it hit the ground. The constant noise was driving her crazy. She could not stand it. It was cold, damp, and smelled of rotting potatoes. The dampness of the room chilled her to the bone.

She could hear creatures scampering about in the dark. Fear hit her so hard, her stomach roiled in response, making her heave. She closed her eyes, trying to banish the nightmare that invaded her dreams but she knew she was not asleep. She was awake, living her worst possible nightmare... she was trapped.

Isabelle couldn't stop the bile from rising in her throat once more as she remembered what brought her to this place. She covered her mouth with her dirty hand, but the smell of damp earth on her fingers made her heave again. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped her face with her sleeve and made herself stand to get away from the stench of her own vomit. She wrapped her arms around herself, shuffling across the floor over to the door... hoping. She tried the handle. It was no use. The door was locked.

A faint shaft of light lit the edges. She would have yelled, but she knew it was pointless, since she knew exactly where she was: her very own cellar, the one she hated. It was far beneath the ground, and on the other side of the door, the crumbling stairs led back up to where the old cookhouse once stood. She shuffled back across the room, away from the door, to the farthest corner. There was a sack hanging on the wall that stunk of mold. She closed her eyes, pushing the horror from her mind, and threw it on the floor. At least, it would give her some kind of protection against the cold ground. She sat down and leaned against the wall, tucking her legs in the folds of her gown and closed her eyes once more.

She sat in silence, berating herself for her stupidity. She was not some naïve girl. She was well into her prime. She had many experiences thus far in her life. She knew what it was like to love, and to lose one's love. She knew what it felt like to get older and watch helplessly as time began to take more and more of the beauty she once had. She knew what it was like to kill someone as well.

Yes, Isabelle knew many things. Some things she welcomed and some she wanted to forget, but found they still haunted her in her dreams from time to time. She guessed now she was being made to pay one of her many dues.

She sighed aloud, her voice sounding harsh and raspy from vomiting.

"Oh my dear husband, why did you have to betray me with her?" The gears of her mind spun round and round, replaying the day her world was smashed to pieces...

HAWTHORNE MANOR ♦THREE DAYS EARLIER

"Thank you, Charles," Isabelle said, handing off her green ermine-lined cloak and muff to her butler. Her face was flushed with chill, having just returned from London, and she was not expected home for a few more days. But she was eager to see her young husband, Devlin. They had only been married for a short time and she rather enjoyed their love play. "Wherever is my husband?"

"His lordship is otherwise occupied, Madam," Charles replied nervously, tugging at his cravat.

"Oh," she said simply. "Do you have any idea how long he will be?"

"I can't say as I have the answer to that particular question, Madam." His voice cracked awkwardly.

Isabelle raised her brow in question. Charles looked peaked. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, Madam," he said hesitantly.

"Well, I am weary from my travels. Would you please be a dear and tell cook I would like to have a small meal prepared, perhaps some soup and toast? Oh, yes, and have one of the maids bring it up to my chamber. I think a nice warm bath is in order," she said, shivering slightly.

Charles's eyes widened. "Are you sure you would not prefer to have some hot tea in front of the fire?" he coaxed.

"Heavens no, my clothes are damp, and truth be told, Charles, I am quite simply exhausted." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone, but I am not the young miss I once was." She smiled, giving him a wink for good measure. Charles had been in her family's employ since she was a young girl, and luckily, she was able to keep him after she married the Old Duke.

"Is Judith with his lordship?" Isabelle asked distractedly, glancing over at a pile of missives on a silver salver on the hall table. There were quite a few invitations. Turning back to Charles, she saw his face was pale and he was staring down at the floor. "Charles, is something amiss?"

"No... uh... no," he said, focusing on the ground.

"Charles, you look terribly pale. Perhaps you should get some soup from the kitchen and take yourself off to bed. You may be coming down with something."

"Thank you. You may be right," he agreed. "I am suddenly not feeling well."

"Of course, take yourself to bed. I'll tell cook myself about my dinner."

"Oh, perfect, I'll accompany you," he said hurriedly, taking her elbow, trying to guide her towards the kitchen.

Isabelle walked alongside Charles as he pushed her towards the kitchen. She had no idea what was wrong with him, but he was certainly acting strange.

Once in the kitchen, she directed the maid to make a bite for Charles and slipped out before he could notice she was gone. She hurried down the hall and up the stairs. When she reached the top landing, she made her way toward her room.

She heard moaning. She wrinkled her brow, wondering whatever the noise could be, but walked faster just the same. Dread filled her body. She stood outside her door, listening... afraid to open it suddenly. She heard another moan and muffled voices. Swallowing her trepidation, she grabbed the handle, and opened the door. It opened soundlessly. Her eyes widened as her breath caught in her throat.

Judith, her husband's sister, was naked as the day she was born. Her head was thrown back, her long blonde hair swaying back and forth, as she moved up and down on top of a man.

Isabelle had no idea who she was with; her body blocked the man's face. Her ire rose instantly. She was ready to give the girl a firm dressing down. How dare she enter her private chambers with...?

Her stomach lurched as Judith was thrown backward onto the bed. Devlin rose over her, pushing her legs up into the air, as he drove into her repeatedly. His body glistened with sweat and his head was tilted backward, the unmistakable expression of ecstasy clearly etched on his handsome face.

Judith moaned louder, her body writhing under him as he picked up his tempo and lifted her legs even higher...

"Devlin," Judith cried out his name in pleasure.

Isabelle stood in the doorway watching, stupidly, frozen in place. Devlin opened his eyes as his body convulsed finding his own release. His sweat-dampened hair fell forward. He pushed it back and dropped Judith's legs, his eyes never leaving hers. Isabelle was stunned; her mind was not able to process what she had just witnessed.

"Judith, it seems we have an audience," Devlin said, breathing heavily, his lips curved up in amusement. He leaned back on the bed and ran his hand through his dampened hair.

Judith rolled over onto her stomach, an irritated expression on her face while kicking her legs back and forth in the air. "My goodness, Isabelle, had I known you liked to watch, I would have offered you a chair... that way you wouldn't have had to stand on your feeble legs so long." She snickered cruelly and then added, "Devlin does take a while, does he not?" She began laughing again, the peels of her laughter piercing Isabelle to her core. Her mouth fell open but that didn't stop Judith.

"Oh, right, you would not know that, would you?" Judith taunted meanly.

Isabelle finally got her voice back. "She is your sister! How could you have sex with your sister?" she yelled, lifting her hands helplessly in the air.

Judith laughed harder.

Devlin got his breath back and quickly rolled off the bed. He tossed on his robe and walked forward. "Hmm, that is a good question." He crossed his arms. "Ah, I see your dilemma. What kind of sick deviant would have intercourse with his sister?"

Isabelle's stomach twisted. "You're a sick monster!" she yelled, reeling in shocked horror.

"Tsk, tsk. Be careful what stones you throw, wife. You married this monster... remember?" he reminded.

"That was before... I didn't know... I mean how..." Isabelle couldn't even finish.

"Goodness, Isabelle, you just saw how," he said callously, then chuckled lightly. "Calm down Isabelle, I am not a complete monster, well... at least not a deviant one. Judith is not my sister, so it seems you are in luck," he said coldly. "So what brings you home so early, wife?" Devlin casually toyed with the belt of his robe.

"What do you mean she is not your sister?" Isabelle asked shakily.

Judith snorted. "Goodness, you are slow, aren't you?" She rolled over onto her back, playing with a long strand of her hair. "Devlin, please save me from this woman's stupidity." She gathered the rest of her hair in her hand and began to run her fingers through the ends.

"It was a lie Isabelle," Devlin said with a matter of fact tone in his voice.

"It's a lie?" Isabelle repeated.

Judith rolled over. "Yes, it is a lie. Did you think someone as young and virile as Devlin would truly be interested in someone as old as you? You really are slow of wit, aren't you?" Judith asked nastily, climbing from the bed. She paraded naked across the room and settled herself on the chair in front of Isabelle's dressing table, giving Isabelle an ugly look in the mirror.

Isabelle watched her uninhibited display, not an ounce of skin sagging down, her body still firm and ripe from youth. She too once looked much like Judith, when she was young. Time had taken its toll on her body, but her mind was sharper now, more so than it had ever been.

Isabelle looked at the girl's face, reflecting in the mirror... and could suddenly see the distinct differences between the two of them. She had been played for a fool. She should have known from the start. After a moment, Isabelle straightened her spine and pressed her shoulders back. "Get out of my house and take your whore with you," she ground out, her voice shaking with unbridled anger.

Judith turned towards Devlin with a wounded look on her face. "You aren't going to let that bat call me names, are you?"

Devlin waited a moment before he spoke. "Now, now, wife, don't be hasty. Surely we can come to some understanding."

"Understanding?" She gaped at him in disbelief. "Are you a bloody idiot?" she asked. "I said get out or I will call this house down upon your insolent heads. Do you understand what I am saying? And don't think to take anything with you either, except the pathetic pittance you came to me with. And your whore can go just as she is since I am the one that bought her clothing as well. Or have you forgotten my money paid for all you have?" Isabelle stood rigidly.

Devlin raised a perfectly arched brow, daring her to say more. "We had a deal Isabelle, or have you forgotten that as well?"

Isabelle took a step backward, inching towards the door. "I'll give you a head start. And if you do not leave this moment, I will make sure you are escorted from this house directly to the magistrate," she warned.

She turned to leave, making one more stupid mistake in a long line of them. Before she could make it to the door, a burst of white stole her vision and pain brought her to her knees. Another sharp blow followed and she fell to the ground.

♦

Footsteps sounded from above, bringing Isabelle's mind back to the present. She opened her eyes, awaiting her captor's arrival.

CONSEQUENCE

Ravenhurst - Katherine

THE dim light flickered in the hall, throwing shadows against the door of her borrowed room. It loomed before her, fading in and out of focus as Katherine swayed on her feet. All the alcohol she consumed caught up with her body, but her mind still raced. She was trying to decide which existence to believe—either she was a raving lunatic or somehow, someway, she actually managed to travel into the past. Or... perhaps she was having an alcohol- induced hallucination. She grabbed her skin under her arm and pinched. A sharp pain shot followed.

"Ow that hurt!" she cried, rubbing her fingers against the rising welt.

"What am I doing?"

Would the room still be as she remembered it? Or would her delusional brain conjure up something else in its place? She swallowed hard and twisted the handle.

It didn't budge.

She tried again... nothing.

Katherine wanted to scream, but who would help her if they heard? She wanted out. Out of the dress, the house, out of this... this place she found herself stuck in. Angry, unshed tears welled in her eyes. She reached up and dashed them away before grabbing the handle again. She pushed against the door with all of her body weight.

This time the door swung open easily and her body sailed through the opening.

She landed on the carpet with a loud "thud!" Her gown flew over her head. She could feel the cool air chilling her stocking-clad legs and backside. She lifted her head slightly, but gave up and dropped it again to the floor.

♦

Two black, shiny objects floated in and out of focus in front of Katherine's face. The pile of the carpet was wet under her cheek from drool. She was a mess. She focused her eyes on one of the objects, which was tapping up and down.

It was a booted foot.

A cool breeze wafted up her gown. In humiliated horror, she closed her eyes. Her ass was showing.

"Good evening, milady," he said finally, his voice crisp and proper, emphasizing his accent.

She lifted her head, trying to focus on his boots. "Good evening, my good man," she managed, with her own feigned, English accent, slightly slurring her words.

"Do forgive my intrusion into your private sanctuary, but I found no other alternative to share a moment of privacy with you."

Katherine crawled up on all fours and pushed her gown down over her backside. "No problem." She tried to look up but her hair was undone and it blocked her view from everything but his shiny boots.

"Milady, can you stand without, erhm... becoming ill?" he questioned warily.

Katherine tried to stand of her own volition but lost her balance and fell forward. Her face rubbed across the rug. "Damn, that burned."

Hands grasped her under her arms, pulling her up off the floor.

Swaying on her feet, she hiccupped.

The man held her in place, trying to steady her. He smelled like leather and something else—it was a comforting scent. "One minutes my good man." She made a face. "I need some water... I think. I'll be right back." She stumbled forward into the bathroom.

♦

A while later Katherine emerged from the bathroom. She felt a little less drunk. Pushing her wet hair off her face, she wiped her hands on the front of her wet gown. She wanted to lie down. She veered towards the bed but her eye caught sight of the shiny boots once more. The man from earlier was standing by the fire. She groaned, and veered back across the room towards the chair he was pointing at.

"Milady, please take a seat," he instructed in a clipped voice, sounding very refined... very English.

Once she made it to the chair, she reached out and patted it with her hand—the damn thing was moving. Finally satisfied it was going to be still, she dropped back into the cushions. And then immediately leaned forward, and dropped her head into her hands. Everything was moving. Oh, she didn't feel too good.

Finally, she lifted her head and her eyes locked with his. He smiled. At least he seemed harmless and he did seem familiar. His eyes sparkled in the firelight, they were mischievous... full of secrets. And that is when it hit her—like a ton of bricks—she knew him.

"Uh... I know you... don't I?" she asked trying to act nonchalant. Like she really wasn't a thief. She knew exactly who he was. Dang it!

Milford raised a brow, his green eyes showing surprise. He cleared his throat. "I would not say 'know' as in we have been formally introduced." He grew quiet for an awkward moment. "If you are asking if we have seen one another before, then my answer is yes. Yes, we have met one another before."

Katherine bit her lip. "Yep... I mean yes, I do know you." When he didn't say anything, she supposed he was waiting for a confession. "You are the gentleman with the necklace from my work." Her face flamed with embarrassment. "Uh... I, um... well... you know... borrowed it."

He smiled. "Yes, I know you borrowed it. Of course that was my intent."

She watched his frown turn upside down and took that as a good sign. Then what he said sunk in. "What? What do you mean it was your intent?"

Now it was his turn to look contrite. "Well, you see, I needed you... here."

He needed me? "Okay, I don't get it. You needed me or need me?" She watched him nod his head in agreement to the last part of the sentence. "Okay, so you need me, as in right now?" He shook his head up and down in affirmation. "Well, I gotta tell you, I think I am someplace I really shouldn't be..." she trailed off. "You know this don't you?"

"Yes." He nodded.

"So you need me to help you fix something about the..."

"The Dark Knight, Darias," he supplied helpfully.

She sat back in the chair and tried to digest what he told her. Nothing made sense. What made her so special? Why was she the one he needed? Her stomach roiled. There were too many questions and not enough answers. "I don't feel too good." She sat forward and pushed up from the chair. "Sorry, I need to ah...just use that room, over there, for a minute."

"Of, course."

She ran inside the bathroom and locked the door.

MEMORIES DO NOT ALWAYS FADE

Hawthorne Manor - Isabelle

LAUGHTER of two young girls echoed in Isabelle's mind. She stared at the locked door and laughed out loud. The sound of her voice was unrecognizable. She suddenly found her situation hilarious. She laughed and laughed at the door. Just a simple, silly, stupid door, kept her trapped. And now the ones that were closed for so long within her mind began to open. She closed her eyes and walked through one.

MEMORY ♦ RAVENHURST ♦THE PAST

"Isabelle? Isn't he handsome?" Victoria gushed excitedly. Isabelle looked over at her brother, Clive. His light brown hair fell lazily to the side, and his blue eyes lit up with laughter, even though she knew something dark lay just beneath the surface. "I don't see it," Isabelle countered.

Victoria grabbed her hand. "How can you not? See... look how everyone clamors for his attention? They are hoping for a moment of his time," she gushed excitedly, her face flushing.

"Like you?" Isabelle said meanly.

"Fine, so I might have a little crush on your brother, so what?"

Isabelle watched her best friend in the world stare longingly at her brother, her violet eyes begging him to notice her. Victoria was absolutely beautiful. A ribbon held her black hair loosely back and tiny tendrils escaped the confines, blowing gently in the soft breeze. "Little? Don't you mean huge?" Isabelle teased.

She couldn't help herself; Clive was not a nice person. And he certainly was not good enough for the likes of Victoria.

Victoria turned hurt eyes on Isabelle.

"I am sorry." She leaned forward and hugged friend. Clive caught her eye, and without saying a word, beckoned Isabelle to send Victoria over to him. She tried to say no with her eyes, but he lifted his brow, daring her to deny him. She turned away quickly and immediately complied. "Victoria? Clive would like to see you," Isabelle said sadly, not able to meet her friend's gaze.

"Are you serious?"

Isabelle nodded mutely.

"Do I look okay?" she asked excitedly, blowing on one hand to check her breath while smoothing her hair with the other.

Isabelle couldn't help laughing at her friend's antics. "You look wonderful," she assured her. "You always do. Now go, before he gets tired of waiting for you."

"All right." Victoria took a huge breath, and waited for a moment more.

Isabelle gave her a reassuring smile.

Victoria beamed back at her. "Thank you." And then she ran over to Clive and sat down beside him.

Clive lifted his head and looked directly at Isabelle, a triumphant look on his face.

Isabelle stared back at him, her eyes burning with all the hatred she felt.

He smiled then, and the side of his lip curved up just a bit, as he raised his brow. He was playing chicken with Isabelle.

A shiver of cold fear ran up her spine and she had to turn away.

He won again.

♦

Isabelle's head fell forward. She jerked it back, waking once more.

THE LIES WE TELL

Ravenhurst -Katherine

A BURST of warm air hit Katherine in the face when she returned to the room. A log tumbled further into the fire, hissing and crackling. Her guest from earlier was still seated in one of the chairs, staring at the flames. He had his leg bent, resting across his knee. The high polish on his boots reflecting the fire like mirrors. She took an unsteady breath, walked over to the opposite chair, and sat down, placing one hand on her queasy belly.

"Katherine, dear, are you feeling any better?" he questioned with concern.

"Yeah, I think. Sorry about that... umm...,"

"Milford," he supplied helpfully.

"I'm sorry Milford, but I kind of missed what you were trying to explain to me before... about being here?" She shook her head. "I gotta tell you something, Milford..." She leaned in. "I think I am somewhere that is just not... right." She widened her eyes to stress her point.

Milford waved away her comment. "Yes, yes, I know."

Her mouth popped open. "You know?"

"Yes," he clarified again. "Now, I have some rather interesting things to tell you, a story from a long time ago." He paused once more and then took a breath. "Before I start, I would like to apologize for my part in this," he stated sincerely.

Okay, so now he was freaking her out. She mentally prepared herself to hear whatever he needed to tell her.

Milford leaned back into the chair and cast his gaze into the fire. "As a young lad, I was picked to squire for the most esteemed knight in all the land, the Raven Knight. His name was Darias, otherwise known as the Destroyer. The raven was his coat of arms. Just like the raven, he was renowned throughout the land for his strategic maneuvering in battle. He could swoop in, waylaying his opposition efficiently, quickly, and disappear without a trace. He inspired many and was feared by all. He devoted himself to the king and the land he fought to protect."

"It was a rare privilege to squire under a knight such as Darias. I took my duty very seriously. He was my master, my mentor. He was everything a lad could ever hope to be or become. The man was tireless and though few knew, he was fair and just. He only wanted a simple existence, to live in harmony with the land about him. Everything was as it should be until that fateful day. That is the day everything changed...."

A flash hit Katherine with such force, she had to close her eyes from the pain. Milford's voice faded away while she held onto the chair arms, her knuckles turning white from the force she squeezed. Her heart pounded so loudly, she couldn't hear his words any longer. It didn't matter. She knew what happened. Tears flowed from her eyes. Her heart hurt. The knight, his anguished cries, haunted her mind. It was horrible.

Milford leaned forward and patted her arm once he finished his story.

She turned her blurry, tear-filled gaze on him, the knight's cries finally fading from her mind. She let out a sad, breathy sigh, unable to speak.

He pursed his lips together and gave her a contemplative look. "I am sorry," he said again. "I fear I have made a mistake in bringing you here."

She wiped away her tears and swallowed hard. "No, it's not that. It's just such a sad story," she said, her voice cracking as she spoke.

"Yes it is," he agreed. "Do you think you are up to the task then?" A glimmer of hope entered his eyes.

She blew out a shaky breath. "I can try."

He smiled then, and the bone crushing sadness she had felt lifted a bit more, spurring on her resolve. "What do you need me to do?"

"That is the million-dollar question."

She blinked at him. Huh? "What is the million-dollar question?"

"Whether you will be able to do what must be done. I am afraid it is up to you. This must be your decision. I cannot interfere."

"I don't understand. You brought the necklace to me," she argued.

His expression turned thoughtful. "I know, but you ultimately made the decision to wear it. I did warn you," he added with a pointed look.

"Right... I mean, you are right. I took it upon myself to wear it." But I didn't know it would send my ass catapulting back through time. She wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, she merely shook her head in agreement.

He uncrossed his legs and stood up. "I fear I have given you a lot to sort through, perhaps you would like to be alone, gather your thoughts."

She nodded mutely.

He took a step towards the door, paused, and turned back towards her. "I hope I have not overwhelmed you."

Why yes, yes you have. She wanted to grab his coat, tell him to wait, not to leave her just yet, but instead blurted out, "I can't leave?"

Milford's face went slack and then he darted his eyes back and forth before he finally let them settle on her face once again. "No. Not for a while I am afraid."

"So I am stuck here... in the past?"

Milford widened his eyes and then tugged on his jacket, obviously uncomfortable with the question. "I believe so."

"Oh my GOD!" Okay, calm down. It can't be real. I am just having a very lucid dream... she blamed the alcohol. It was making her have one hell of a dream. Tomorrow she would wake up in her apartment and none of this would have even happened. She didn't know why, but that thought made her even sadder than she was moments before.

"I may not be able to give you all the answers you seek but I can tell you one thing."

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Yes, what is it?"

"Everything will turn out that way fate intends."

WHAT? "What does fate have to do with this?"

He smiled sadly. "Everything... Fate has everything to do with this... and of course, a smattering of chance gets mixed in to make things really interesting." He forced a smile at her.

"Okay then." Of course, none of this was okay. It was freaking crazy. Or I am crazy?

"You need your rest. I promise everything will become clearer in the morning."

"What... you are leaving... just like that?"

He released a weary sigh. "I cannot leave... at least not for a very long time. I will be here to direct you, if I can." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small piece of paper, and handed it to her.

She looked up at him with a question in her eyes and took the paper.

"You may not want to read this tonight, but it is a clue to the legend, if you can figure out the riddle."

She wasn't sure what to make of the paper but was suddenly too tired to try to figure it out now. "Okay. I think I need to sleep on this. I am sure everything will make more sense in the morning." She absently ran her hands over the folds of her gown, smoothing the creases.

"Fate..." he breathed, shaking his head. "Yes, I believe you are right. You do need sleep."

"Fate?" she asked.

"Fate... right... she is a fickle wench," he mumbled despondently. And with that, he turned on his heel and left the room without another word.

THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM

Ravenhurst

THE following morning... Sebastian lifted his hand and covered his eyes to block out the light. He was still abed, a sheet barely covering his naked body, his long muscular legs tangled in the folds. He did not sleep well. Hearing Marguerite's confession with his own ears was more than he could take.

He laughed out loud—it was hollow... bitter. How could she rub his face in the fact she actually thought the wastrel she left him at the altar for, would be back for her. Was she mad? She had to be if she expected him to stand idly by, while the rakehell returned for her, stealing not only his bride but also his inheritance. No, not bloody likely.

Regardless of what she thought, Sebastian knew better. He could envision quite clearly, what must have transpired between the two. Luckily, for her, the knave returned her to a place where she might be cared for. Many other women found themselves in similar circumstances, awash in promises of love and marriage, until the wastrel took the prize. Marguerite was fortunate. Most ruined women ended up on the streets, selling their bodies for a living.

Angrily, he tossed the covers off and climbed from the bed. He wasn't sure why he felt so angry. Did it truly matter? He looked out the window at the early morning sun. His mind was set. He would marry her and then take himself off to London.

He closed his eyes against the sun, allowing the heat to warm his skin as he tried to block her from his mind. Instead, an image flashed unbidden of Marguerite, from earlier, as the sun revealed her beauty to him through the flimsy fabric of her prim little gown.

His body reacted, betraying his mind once again. He turned purposefully away from the window, fully intending to douse his ardor in an icy, cold bath. "Bloody hell!"

♦

The sound of birds squawking outside the windows woke Katherine from her slumber. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, warming her body. She had to admit, she was a little sad to be awake. Now, she would never know how her dream ended. Maybe, she would dream about it tonight as well.

Opening her eyes, she yelped. The gang of cherubs stared down at her, taunting her with their beady little eyes. She lifted her hand and poked one right in the eye. It only seemed to sneer more. Shivering, she crawled backward out of the bed, keeping a watchful eye on them.

She knew she was being ridiculous but hey, if she could travel back in time why couldn't little ugly cherubs come to life too?

Mentally, she stuffed a little reminder in the corner of her mind to watch her back, just to be on the safe side. She would have to ask Milford about that later. In the meantime, she quickly untied the curtains so they fell over their faces. Satisfied they could no longer see what she was doing, she turned and looked around the room to make sure nothing else was giving her death dagger stares.

It looked clear.

Well, that answered that. She wasn't dreaming. She sat back down on the edge of the bed and tried to make sense of everything she learned the evening before. Granted she was a little tipsy for part of it but she certainly remembered him. He was an unbelievably handsome man... and he, correction, the Earl, thought that she was his fiancée? What were the odds? Releasing a dreamy sigh, she leaned forward and propped her chin in her hand.

And what of Milford? He was the man with the necklace who had come to her work, and he was what? A butler from the past?

She laughed out loud. It began as a small little sound, and then came out harder 'til her eyes began to tear up. This was good. She was living in an alternate reality that rivaled some of the best movies she had ever seen. What were the odds?

Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she absently began to work the knots from the length. It gave her something to do while she got her near hysteria under control.

After she pulled out most of the knots from her hair, she finally came to a decision. It seemed that she may as well embrace her moment of insanity, if it was that, and act the part, just like one of the heroines in her favorite movies.

She thought about it for a moment. Maybe she should act like Bella in Twilight.... "No, too needy—Sorry Bella," she said, fighting down another hysterical bubble of laughter. Besides, she was in the past. No Vampires or Wolves that she knew of... just a hot Earl who had a problem keeping his real fiancée around and now, he had a bad case of mistaken identity.

Thinking, she crossed her arms and tapped her chin. Who should she act like...?

Scanning the room, her gaze settled on the little blue leather-embossed book she had seen on the bedside table earlier and had an epiphany. She should act like Reese, in Vanity Fair. Her character was strong, resourceful, imaginative, and super sexy... "Right," she snorted out a deprecating laugh. Fine. She may not be super sexy but she could certainly be all the rest. Couldn't she?

Standing, she paced the room.

The legend Milford had told her about seemed like more of a sad love story, really. Did she miss something? She must have. Where were these ill-begotten treasures? Why was everyone after them? Well, besides the obvious reasons. What did this Marguerite girl have to do with it? What about the necklace? Seriously, she must have missed a gargantuan part of the story, because there was so much she did not understand. And what the hell was her part in all of it? Why was she the chosen one? What made her so special?

She was about to jump back into the bed and cover her head until she re-awoke in her own world. Halfway there, she paused. And what if she did? Would she remember any of this? Would she wish she were here, instead of in her own bed? She shook her head. Obviously, it was a no-win situation.

Suddenly, she remembered the necklace. Maybe it had some kind of mystical properties. She knew her reasoning was far-fetched, but really, she was in Victorian England, betrothed to some hot Earl who was also a bit of an egomaniac. So her brilliant deduction really couldn't be that far-fetched.

"If I was a magical necklace where would I be?" Her gaze flitted over to the "Narnia" wardrobe... "Nah, it wouldn't be there." Besides, for some strange reason she didn't want to get too close to that thing... it kind of gave her the heebie-jeebies.

She looked at the dressing table and then the bureau. She decided to be methodical. Start at the bureau and then move around the room. That way the wardrobe would be the last thing she looked in. Walking over across the room, she stopped in front of the dresser... waiting. She wanted to make sure she didn't get a weird chill again like she did with the wardrobe.

"Nope... it's good," she cheered and pulled the top left drawer open and rifled through stacks of several pairs of gloves.

There were long elegant evening gloves, short ones, and leather ones all in different colors and lengths. She ran her hand under them and then shut the drawer and moved on to the next. Fancy ribbons, dozens of them, filled the drawer.

"Okay, maybe the third time is the charm." She pulled out the middle drawer. This one held stockings that were actually made from silk, undergarments, and some pretty little handkerchiefs. She reached in and felt around the back. People always hid stuff in the back of dressers.

"Ah-Ha!" She pulled out an elaborate box. Gilded flowers and vines carved an intricate pattern on the top, and three keys. Just like the weird mirror across the room that looked like it was a doorway to another world.

"What's with all the keys?" She opened the box. Tucked inside the red velvet confines was the necklace.

The necklace sparkled, beckoning her with its beauty once more. She was about to put it around her neck and wish herself back home but instead, she froze.

What would happen if she did put it back on? Her heart began to sink. What if she simply poofed back to the future? If she put the necklace back on, would she wake up back at work, listening to Janice talk about her latest conquest? Or Ned's latest acquisition? Or worse? What if she ended up back in her apartment? And none of this had ever happened? What if she never saw him again? Her heart constricted. No, the list was simply too long.

With shaking hands, she carefully put the necklace back in the box and closed the lid. Pulling open the bottom drawer filled with shawls, she set the box inside, covered it up, and then firmly closed the drawer.

No, she was not ready to let this... dream—delusion, disappear... not just yet. Maybe she would feel differently later, in a day or two.

Besides, she needed to lay a legend to rest. But first, she had to figure out what the riddle meant, and how it tied everyone together.

Walking over to the bedside table, she lifted up the piece of paper that Milford gave her last night when they spoke. More proof she was not imagining everything. That is, of course, unless she imagined the paper as well. Glancing at the welt on her arm, she decided to go with it without inflicting any more pain on herself. Unrolling the parchment, she tried to read the barely legible writing scrawled across the length.

"Until the key is found... the door of time will be bound... locked within for all time... may no other be allowed peace of mind."

The paper slipped from her fingertips and floated down to the carpet.

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" She thought the knight loved the girl. Those words sounded more like a curse. Why? She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what the words would mean to someone desperate enough to do anything to get back a girl they loved and lost.

Thinking about the knight again, made her heart ache and tears well up in her eyes.

Bending over, she picked up the paper, opened the drawer and set it inside.

"What in the hell am I going to do?" She shut the drawer and mentally shook herself, trying to get her emotions under control. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she took an unsteady, reviving breath. She had a riddle to solve and not only for her own sake—but apparently a few others' sakes, as well.

GOOD MORNING

Ravenhurst

DISHES clattered as the liveried footmen cleared them away to make room for another setting on the stark white, linen tablecloth. A pair of white-gloved hands polished the silverware gently with a cloth before placing them on the table alongside a setting of fine porcelain plates. Crystal glasses were filled from pitchers with juice and water. Toasted bread lay inside the slots of a sterling rack beside a jam jar and serving trays of food, rested on the sideboard nearby.

Sebastian summoned the footman to refill his cup with more coffee. The rich aroma filled the room. He wiped his mouth, settled back, and picked back up his morning paper.

♦

Katherine practically ran towards the sound of dishes clattering and the smell of fresh coffee. She slid to a halt in the doorway to the breakfast room. The last person she expected to see was Sebastian, but there he was, sitting at the end of the table.

She waffled on the threshold. The smell pulled her in but his presence made her want to slide back out the way she came... that is, she did, until he lowered his paper and she saw his face. He was so good-looking... too good-looking. Where are men like this in my world? she thought grimly and forced herself to step into the room.

"Good morning," he said, folding his paper and setting it back on the table.

"Good morning." She made her way to the table, thankful it was so large. She didn't want to be too close to him. He might realize she wasn't who she was pretending to be. A footman appeared out of nowhere and pulled her chair out for her.

Sebastian leaned his head against the upholstered back of the chair and toyed with the edge of his folded newspaper as he watched her situate herself. Pieces of her hair had fallen from her makeshift ponytail and were curling around her face. He realized she was quite fetching. How had he missed this? Perhaps it was the simplicity of the gown she was wearing, which made her seem so appealing. He watched her breasts jiggle as she moved her chair again... no, probably not the gown at all... more likely it was what was under the gown that seemed so enticing suddenly. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but if his body's reaction was any indication, then he certainly wouldn't mind exploring whatever it was, further.

Katherine adjusted her bottom again. She was attempting to sit on the edge of the chair just like a genteel lady should, but unfortunately, once again, she was failing miserably. The added exertion of moving the heavy chair back and forth, had her breathless and a flush of heat crested her cheeks.

She was either too close to the table or too far away. Finally, she gave up and looked down. Her breasts were practically perched on top of the table. She groaned and tried to push back once more, but the legs of the chair were stuck on the rug. See, that's why you don't put a damn rug under a table. She lifted her gaze and almost fell backward.

Sebastian was staring right at her, with a peculiar expression on his face.

"Embarrassing...," she mumbled out, feeling her face turn even redder.

Sebastian grinned. He was amused. He couldn't help it. When did she become so utterly adorable? And then his mind came to a halt. What in the bloody hell was he doing? He sounded like he was talking about a puppy and not the girl who jilted him, and by her own admission had left him for another man, one she thought may return for her. The warm feeling he had moments before quickly turned cold along with his ardor. He reached for his cup once more, took a drink and then set it back on the table.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked casually, breaking the silence.

A footman reappeared from nowhere and filled her cup with coffee. She peered around his back. "Yes I did, thank you." She made sure her voice came out loud and clear, since there was about ten feet between them, which she couldn't be happier about. She couldn't imagine sitting close to him at this moment since every time he was near her body went all tingly and her mind stopped functioning properly.

Idly, Sebastian watched her chew on her lip, while he toyed with the delicate porcelain handle on his cup. And then she blew her hair from her eyes: both nervous gestures that he had not noticed before. "I am glad to hear that," he said with a wry smile.

Katherine swallowed hard. The smile he gave her was unnerving. She tried to gauge his mood, but a footman blocked her view again while placing a heaping plate of food in front of her. Her stomach growled obnoxiously. In hopes of quieting the noise, she pushed on her stomach.

"Please eat," he said, once the footman had moved. "You are obviously famished."

Katherine's face was now on fire. She tried to smile back, but it ended up looking forced and awkward. Her stomach twisted as his smile faded.

Sebastian, lifted his paper back up.

Shifting in her seat, she grabbed the napkin off the table and placed it in her lap. Suddenly she hoped he would leave so she could eat in private. Nervously, she glanced in his direction, and was relieved to see that his paper covered most of his face. Reaching forward, she quickly grabbed the fork beside her plate and filled it with eggs. She shoved a bite into her mouth. It was too big. Lifting her hand, she tried to cover her mouth as she chewed on the oversized bite... it wasn't a pretty sight.

Of course, Sebastian was watching. He watched the way she ate, as well as the way she drank. The way she kept blowing a stray hair from her eyes and the rise and fall of her breasts in her conservative morning gown. None of these things went unnoticed by him. He even caught her darting glances to see if he was looking at her. He was, of course, but she didn't know that. She was nervous. He was glad. He watched her shut her eyes, her dark lashes fanned across her high cheekbones, and her full, pink lips, caught his attention as they met the delicate edge of the porcelain cup she was holding. His mind strayed, wondering what they would feel like on his own lips—his body reacted immediately. What in the hell was he thinking? He was aghast at himself and rightly so. These urges he was having were getting bloody ridiculous.

Pushing away from the table, he stood. "I can see you are thoroughly enjoying your meal," he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips, which quickly turned into a frown. What in the hell was the matter with him? He must look like a besotted imbecile. "If you will excuse me, there is something I need to attend to." He straightened his jacket and then lifted the paper he was reading from the table and tucked it under his arm. "I will let you finish breaking your fast with some semblance of tranquility." He strode casually toward the door, his brightly polished hessians barely making a sound on the carpet.

"All right," she mumbled, watching the tops of his boots draw nearer. And then he stopped right beside her chair. She held her breath. She knew she was being foolish but couldn't seem to help herself. She had the feeling he wanted her to look up at him and say something, but there was no way in hell she would do that. Her stupid stomach already made her sound like a pig, and she was sure her face would make her look even worse.

Sebastian waited. He thought for sure she would at least acknowledge his presence before he left, and when she didn't, he tried to lean forward to see her expression. It didn't work very well. "I will see you in the library once you have finished," he said, his voice sounding awkward to his own ears. He shook his head. "Very well then..."

Still no response.

"I will leave you to your breakfast." He gave her one last curious look before he finally exited the room.

Trying to get her emotions under control, she exhaled a huge breath. When she could no longer hear his footsteps, she stood up. No big surprise, she had suddenly lost her appetite. She looked down at the front of her borrowed gown and noticed it had a large spot of coffee on the front.

"Unbelievable!" She eyed the footman. He was staring straight ahead like a sentinel. Reaching out, she nonchalantly grabbed a biscuit for later and then made a break for it. She briskly walked past the footman, and all the way back to her borrowed room.

NO ONE LIKES TO SHARE

Ravenhurst

THE wind blew harshly through the trees, forcing the remaining leaves from their limbs. Sebastian gazed out the window, watching the leaves spiral in wild abandon to the ground below.

The stack of papers on the top of his desk should have been a reminder of what matters he should be attending to, but instead, he was lost in thought. Mentally he tried to prepare for the conversation he would soon be having with his betrothed about their upcoming nuptials. He was not sure how she would react to his plans to marry her at the end of the week and then leave the following morning for London... alone.

He was not sure what exactly was driving him to this decision, but he couldn't keep from wondering if this was haste or cowardice. Distance seemed the best avenue at this point. The rest would come to him in time.

However, his thoughts were interrupted when he sensed that he was not alone. Turning, he fully expected to find Marguerite. When he saw who was standing in the doorway, he groaned and irritatingly shoved his hand through his hair. What the bloody hell was Renquist doing here... again? Blast the man for his poor timing. Sebastian couldn't fathom what the man would want this time—he'd just seen him a day ago.

"Good morning, de Winter," Renquist said cheerily as he walked over to the fireplace to warm his hands .

Sebastian rolled his eyes, his jaw tensing. "Renquist, what a surprise. Two days in a row?" he said, barely able to control the edge in his voice. "What brings you out and about at this hour in the morning?"

Devlin, seemingly oblivious to the tone in Sebastian's voice, answered brightly, "Goodness, I have to say there is quite a chill in the air. I wouldn't be surprised if a blizzard was on its way." He added a slight shiver for effect.

"What?" Sebastian frowned, confused.

"Yes, I do believe a blizzard is about to descend on us all. I took the liberty of letting the staff go home to their families to ready themselves."

"You did what?" Sebastian asked in disbelief. Since when was Devlin a paragon?

"Oh, I know it was a selfless act on my part. Not many people would sacrifice themselves as I have for the benefit of others..." he paused, and looked pointedly at Sebastian.

Sebastian's mouth dropped open from the insinuation.

Devlin smiled. "Well, that is neither here nor there. Who am I to judge?"

"Well that is ah... gracious of you," Sebastian ground out. It killed him to compliment the man at all. But damn, he had no warning of a blizzard or else he too, would have done the same.

"I say, de Winter, be a gracious host and ring the maid for a pot of tea and perhaps some of your cook's delicious biscuits. I must admit, I didn't have a chance to eat before I left and find that I am starving."

Sebastian would have liked to do more than starve the man. He would have liked to shove his ass right out of his house.

"Certainly." He walked over to the corner and pulled the cord for the maid.

Devlin helped himself to a glass of Sebastian's liquor and took a sip. "Is Marguerite still abed?" he asked casually.

Just then, Sebastian glanced over at the door. The subject of Devlin's question was standing in the doorway. She had changed her gown as well, this one had dark pinstripes and a button front. He noticed several buttons were undone revealing a substantial portion of the tops of her breasts. Not that he minded, in the least, but he did have to wonder why. "No," he answered quickly. "She is right behind you."

"She what?" Devlin turned so quickly that his drink sloshed on the carpet, darkening another spot with the amber liquid.

Katherine stood in the doorway, dreading the conversation she would have with Sebastian since she knew she would have to make everything up as she went along. She couldn't tell him the truth, at least not now. She had a feeling he would get rid of her for sure. So lost in her thoughts, she hadn't realized anyone else was in the room. The other man turned and her breath caught in her throat. Even from where she stood, she could see he had the blackest eyes she had ever seen. They were piercing, unreadable...

"Uh... um... Good morning," she tossed out as she ran headlong into the room.

Devlin's mouth dropped open as she ran across the room to the chair. Her breasts jiggled enticingly from the action and were in full display. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as she dropped down into one of the wing chairs in front of the fire. She looked so beautiful. He had almost forgotten... almost.

Sebastian walked over to the front of the fire, blocking Marguerite from Devlin's salivating stare. "Look who decided to stop by."

Katherine was freaking out. She held onto the arms of the chair so tightly, she lost the feeling in her third finger. She had no idea who this guy was and if she didn't think of something fast, she was going to be busted for the imposter she was. What to do? What to do? A little voice echoed in her mind, lie, lie, lie to them, it whispered. She cleared her throat and with just the right amount of fake exuberance, she said, "How wonderful!"

Devlin frowned. He didn't expect such an enthusiastic response. She acted as though she held no animosity towards him for the small incident that happened before with Judith. Her eyes sparkled in the firelight, and the blue in her gown made them look darker, deeper than normal. He watched as she darted a shy smile towards de Winter, the gesture causing his stomach to twist in knots, the sensation still too familiar for his liking.

He cleared his throat, trying to draw her attention away from de Winter and glided a gentle hand through his hair. "May I say you are looking even lovelier than the last time I saw you..." he trailed off. Stepping forward, he lifted her hand in his and then leaned forward to press a kiss on the top. He lingered, watching her face flush even brighter and her lashes flutter demurely. Not able to help himself, he continued pressing his lips against her sweet, soft, skin...

"Tea's here," Sebastian practically yelled from across the room. He gritted his teeth, watching as Devlin appeared to slobber all over Marguerite's hand.

Sebastian had always wondered what Renquist's intentions were towards his betrothed. And he always wondered if the obvious attraction was one-sided. After finding them alone with one another on far too many occasions, it could not be simple coincidence. Renquist had always watched her every move, when he thought no one was looking. But Sebastian was watching also. He saw it all and he did not like it one bit.

"So Devlin, where is my aunt... your wife?" Sebastian questioned, accentuating the word "wife" more than necessary.

Devlin gave him a sidelong glare. It was just like de Winter to mention he was married, just to remind Marguerite. Perhaps she forgot. But no... the do-gooder had to open his big mouth, and now she knew, again. Blast the man. "Actually, it was your aunt who sent me off at such an early hour to retrieve documents she left here some time ago," he answered simply as his gaze strayed back towards Marguerite.

Sebastian crossed his arms and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Since when did his aunt leave documents at his home? He had no idea what the man was speaking of. And why would Isabelle not come here to retrieve them herself? It was not like her to miss an opportunity to visit. Now that he thought about it, he had not seen her for some time. "I do wonder why my aunt did not come herself, or at least accompany you here, Renquist."

Devlin pulled his gaze from Marguerite. "Oh, she was feeling a bit under the weather, so Judith offered to look after her while I came here in her stead to retrieve what she needed."

"Under the weather?" he questioned. "I do hope you sent for the doctor?"

Devlin adjusted his waistcoat. "No need, she is suffering as all women do at certain times of the month."

Sebastian's face went blank, and then he seemed to recover. "Of course, yes, I understand." There were some subjects he chose to avoid at all costs.

The rumbling of the teacart momentarily sidetracked the conversation. The cups were lifted and prepared to each person's liking, then handed out.

"Thank you," Katherine said, as she took the offered cup from the maid.

Devlin wasn't one to miss an opportunity. So while Sebastian was occupied with the maid, he took a moment to appreciate the beauty before him. Her angelic face turned in profile, stared into the flames of the fire, sipping her tea. Her dark lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, reminding him of how she looked while she slept: innocent and beautiful. Her lips were even fuller than he remembered, and he could imagine quite clearly how they would feel against his body if he let his mind conjure the image fully. A shiver of delight raced through him. He wanted her to look at him... to finally, see him... and then she did. It was as if they had a connection... like so long ago. She gave him a sweet shy smile before turning away. What was this? Was she being shy, bashful? This girl was not the Marguerite he remembered. She had to be playing coy with him. Oh, how he loved to play games as well. He let his gaze travel freely over her body, imagining what fun they could have, knowing this time it would be different. Just thinking of them together, with one another, began to make him uncomfortably hard. And as he glanced down, he could see it was becoming quite obvious.

Devlin jerked on his waistcoat. It didn't help. Before Sebastian turned around, he decided to leave, lest he find himself in dire straits. Turning around he walked briskly towards the door. When he was at the entrance, he looked over his shoulder. "Pray, forgive me, but I have forgotten a most important matter I must attend to, at once." And with that, he hurried from the room. Ignoring the curious stare from the doorman, he donned his coat. As he walked out of Ravenhurst into the brisk morning air, he admonished to himself that time had definitely not diminished that particular desire in the least.

Sebastian barely caught a glimpse of Devlin before he disappeared and was exceedingly grateful he had excused himself. Although he did wonder what he was up to? With Renquist, one never knew. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. Forgetting Renquist quickly, he decided to drink something a bit stronger for the conversation he planned to have with Marguerite.

Katherine wasn't a big drinker and never normally drank during the day, but watching Sebastian pour his own drink, she suddenly wished he would pour one for her as well. She felt even more unsettled from the leering looks his aunt's husband had thrown in her direction every few minutes. He must have thought she didn't notice, but she was very well aware how he had been ogling her. She had wanted to poke her fingers into his eyes for acting like such a perv.

Once Sebastian finished pouring his drink, he walked across the room and settled in the chair across from Marguerite. He took a long pull to help work up his nerve and then leaned back against the cushion, casually swirling the remains of his drink in the bottom of the glass. "Now that we are alone, finally, there are a few things I need to discuss with you."

"All right." Katherine braced herself for what was to come.

"Since you have seen fit to return to me..." he paused, trying to find the right turn of phrase. He cleared his throat. "Although it may not have been of your own accord." He lifted his brow audaciously. "I want you to know I still take our betrothal very seriously," he said with conviction.

"Oh." She had no idea where the conversation was going but had a feeling it was not going to be pleasant. Of course, Milford warned her about Marguerite's and his engagement, but for some reason it never occurred to her that the wedding might take place before she righted whatever wrong had been done. She thought about it for a minute and found that she was not overtly averse to the idea either, which was so sad.

"Good," he said quickly. "Now I want you to know I have made allowances for your indiscretion. And have graciously decided to marry you despite your debauched state."

Katherine flexed her fingers on the arm of the chair, squeezing tightly. It looked like the words he had just said left a bad taste in his mouth. She found herself agreeing. Maybe she was a bit too hasty in her pathetic declaration a moment before. "Marry me in what state?"

He laughed, but it had a hard, bitter edge to it. "Your innocence is lost. You have sullied yourself with another. Could I be any clearer?" His ire filled every word he spoke.

Katherine winced from his candor. "I see." Of course, she did not see at all. What an ass. She was not sullied in the least, but he wouldn't know that—still his words were pretty damn rude. And so what if she was... oh right... she was in the past. Still, he needed to get over himself. "My goodness, how very gracious of you to take on a person such as myself in such a debauched state," she poured on as sarcastically she could.

Sebastian determined quickly this was the Marguerite he remembered. He had wondered if her true nature would eventually make an appearance. "I thought you might be," he replied offhandedly, removing a piece of lint from his sleeve. "Now I know this is a lot to take in at the moment, but in time, I am sure you will see how this is the best avenue for us both."

Katherine gripped the chair tighter. "What avenue would that be?"

Sebastian sighed in irritation, for it was an obvious statement. "I speak of the one where we wed, of course. I will move to London while you stay here. That avenue," he said tonelessly. "Of course, I will return periodically to do my duties as lord of the estate, and I will need an heir at some point. But other than that, I see no reason to stay on." He waved his hand in the air.

Katherine's anger turned in on itself, replaced quickly with dread. He was going to leave. How could she fix what she needed if he left? Wasn't he an essential part of the legend? Didn't she need him to help her find the knight's love? She searched her brain, trying to come up with a reason to make him stay. She could always tell him the truth. No. no. no - she quickly discarded that notion. He would think she was crazy.

Think, think, think Katherine. What would make him want to stay? Her mind sifted through ideas. Why did any man stay with a woman? Love... Sex... Food... ah, shit... she didn't know. She searched her brain for the numerous Cosmopolitan articles she often read about men. "How to keep your man coming back for more" She couldn't remember that one. "How to make your man fall for you" She tried that one, but it didn't pan out well. "Give him what he wants, and leave him begging for more"... Oh, to hell with it, she would just have to wing it. Obviously, she wasn't going to have sex with him... her eyes slid over to the left. He had stood up from his chair and was now standing in front of the fire. No, of course she wouldn't sleep with him... but looking at him now, how utterly handsome he looked, his suit straining across broad muscular shoulders and his dark hair falling forward, perfectly... she could barely stop herself from sighing audibly. He did look like he would be pretty darn good at making a woman feel good. Maybe she could make him fall in love with her... as soon as that thought entered her mind, she snorted in derision. Making him turn toward her. She gave him a sheepish smile. Like that had worked so well in the past.

Her mind was flying through plausible scenarios. She chewed her lip, contemplating an answer before looking back towards him. She ended up biting down on her lip and nearly drew blood. He was looking right at her, like she was a... well, she didn't know what, but it sure didn't look good. Crap. This was not going to work. She widened her eyes at him.

He widened his eyes back at her.

Oh hell, she took another drink of tea to cover the awkward silence. After a few strained minutes, she couldn't take it anymore. "Well, isn't this just wonderful," she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. She took a breath and continued before she lost her nerve. "Any idea on what I might do to amuse myself while you're in London, doing whatever it is that you do while you are there?"

"Yes, what would you do?" Casually he lifted his drink off the mantle, walked back over to the opposite chair, and sat down. He smiled then, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Katherine shivered, her stomach twisting in knots from the look he was giving her. Oh, shit.

"For myself, I mostly indulge my most basic desires whilst I am in London." He leveled her with his steely gaze. "I find this act comparable to enjoying a savory meal." He waved his hand. "I try not to be too particular about the type of dish I indulge in. They all have a slightly different flavor, and who am I to deprive my palate of a delicacy when it is being offered so freely?" He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, raising his brow just slightly to see if she caught his double entendre.

Wow. Oh, Katherine got it all right. He may be nice to look at, but apparently he was a pig. Comparing the girls he "did" to a... meal. What a jerk. Oh, and she knew plenty of these type of guys too. She had dated most of them already. He could take a number and stand in line behind the rest of the pigs she knew.

Now what was she supposed to do with him? He had turned back to studying the flames in the fire, deep in thought. At least that is what it looked like to her. He lifted his muscled arm and raked his hand through his hair, again. Her mind strayed... she felt offended, truly, she did, but as she watched him, staring at the fire, she couldn't help wondering what flavor she might bring to his meal. Would he enjoy her as much as he did the others? And most importantly... could his hunger ever be sated with just one dish? Her heart sank a bit from the thought... Probably not.

"I believe you should retire to your room, perhaps read a book, or take a nap before it is time to prepare for the evening meal. I need to complete some unfinished business," he added with a dismissive air, extending his hand to help her stand.

Katherine didn't expect this. She was still pondering whether she wanted to be a meal or simply a snack. And now she was being told to take a nap. She blatantly ignored his outstretched hand. The nerve. Filled with righteous indignation, she balled her hands into fists. He was speaking to her like she was a child. She hated when people talked to her like that. She was not some kid to push around. Read a book. Fine, that wasn't so bad... but take a nap—come on. And how dare he rub her face in his plates of food like that, as if she was of no consequence. Of course, this was so much worse than the take a nap. No wonder Marguerite left him.

He lifted his brow at her, as if he was daring her to disobey him. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from saying something she may regret. Instead, she turned away and tried to think of a way to get back at him. Maybe make him want to stay? Her mind spun thru different scenarios and discarded just as many as she tried to think of a way to get a little payback and possibly make him stay in the process. What did the ever-resourceful Becky Sharp character do in Vanity Fair to get the man she wanted? Her mind settled on the answer like a slot machine hitting the jackpot. Bells ringing and lights flashing, the big payout within reach... she would make him want her. That was it. It had to work.

Granted, Vanity Fair was only a movie and Becky Sharp was a dirt-poor girl trying to climb her way up out of poverty, but she was just as desperate, so while not being the best comparison, men on a whole were pretty much the same everywhere, right? And maybe she couldn't make him love her, but she could certainly make him want her... at least she hoped she could. And if he wanted to enjoy flavors, perhaps she should give him a taste of her own—not the entire meal of course, but just enough to make him want just a bit more.

RECOMPENSE

Hawthorne Manor – The Cellar

ISABELLE dug her fingers into the food, scraping it off the filthy floor and shoving it into her mouth. She gagged and covered her mouth with the back of her hand to stop the food from coming out. Repulsed, her entire body shook. Tears streamed down her face. She had to get out of her prison or she would die, and she wasn't ready to die. She clutched the metal cup tightly in her hand, saving all her strength for Judith's next visit.

EARLIER IN THE DAY

Judith clomped noisily down the stone stairs; Isabelle could hear her giggling all the way. Apparently, she was quite pleased with herself about something.

"Oh, Isabelle, I have some food for you," Judith called out between giggles.

Isabelle heard something fall. She hoped it was Judith.

"Oh no! How terrible. Would you look at that?" she exclaimed loudly, and then laughed.

Isabelle leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. That must have been her food. Bitch. She heard Judith dragging her feet back and forth across the stone floor. Then a grinding noise, followed by a stomp. Judith snickered as the door loudly creaked open.

"Isabelle, there seems to have been a terrible accident... your food has fallen onto the floor."

"With your help," Isabelle muttered.

"What? Did you say something to me?" Judith snapped angrily. "Well, there go your second helpings!" She threw the tray of food onto the ground. "Oh no, now look what you made me do! Your food has ruined my gown. Well, I am sure Devlin will buy me another, or perhaps, I should take one of yours, since it was your fault. Oh, right, you are a bit larger, aren't you?"

Isabelle said nothing. She could smell the food from across the room, which made her stomach growl loudly.

"Eww, Isabelle, you sound like a dirty little savage." Judith smashed something with the toe of her shoe.

Isabelle assumed it was the last recognizable piece of food.

"Well, I am waiting," Judith, said her annoyance palpable.

"For what?" Isabelle had to ask.

"Why, your apology," Judith said rudely, as if stating the obvious.

"You must be insane," Isabelle replied.

Judith's face turned red with rage. She balled her fingers into fists, her nails cutting into her skin. "I AM NOT INSANE!" she screamed out crazily. "You'll pay for this!" she warned.

Isabelle laughed, then wheezed and coughed, then laughed some more. She simply could not help herself.

Judith swung around in a huff and slammed the door behind her.

Isabelle heard the distinct sound of the lock click into place and listened as Judith stomped up the cellar stairs.

♦

Isabelle opened her eyes and looked down at the cup she now held. "No Judith, you will be the one to pay." She closed her eyes once more.

THE GAMES THAT WE PLAY

Ravenhurst

WITH shaking hands, Katherine set her cup on the table, the fine china clattered against the wood. Very aware that Sebastian watched, she stood purposefully and walked toward the sideboard. She lifted the heavy crystal stopper from the decanter and looked pointedly at him over her shoulder. "May I?"

"Of course." He sat back down. Eyeing her inquisitively, he leaned back in his chair and rested his ankle on his knee. Swirling his drink absently, he watched her every move.

Katherine turned and lifted her glass in the air.

He lifted his in return and then casually took a sip of his drink.

Katherine gulped the contents back without taking a breath and then slammed the glass back on the sideboard.

Then she repeated the process.

What was she up to? Sebastian couldn't help but wonder as he watched her pull the ribbon from her hair—the mass tumbled down her back in riotous disarray. She unbuttoned her gown and then rubbed her hands over her sides.

His eyes widened as she leaned forward and then back again.

What in the hell is she doing? She looked afflicted. Sebastian lifted his glass and took a large pull of the fiery liquid. He couldn't fathom what she was up to. Was she trying to flirt with him? No, that was ridiculous. Why would she do that? He was confused, curious, yet slightly aroused at the same time.

Katherine gripped the sideboard. She was losing her nerve quickly. Taking a few breaths, her mind screamed, "You can't do this. You can't do this." A little voice in her mind said, "Yes you can. Yes you can." She wasn't sure if she hated or loved that little voice.

Sebastian finished his drink and finally stood. He was getting annoyed with her silly, little antics. Walking over to the fire, he set his glass down on the mantel. Then he leaned down and tossed a few more logs onto the dying flames. He waited to see if she would turn tail and run or actually go through with the little game she appeared to be trying to start.

He heard her walking towards him, her skirts rustling ever so slightly on the carpet. At least it sounded as though she were walking, instead of running for the hills. He smiled into the flames, standing up, but did not turn around. He felt her close the distance between them, brushing against his back, the softness of her breasts pressing against him as she slid by.

Katherine was so close, she could feel the heat emanating from his body... his heady scent filling her nostrils. He did not move, not even a muscle. She wondered if he noticed she had even brushed past him—her breasts tingled from the contact. Apparently, her tactics were working wonders on herself, but not so much on him. She took a bracing breath and did it again. This time she pressed against him even more as she slid by in the other direction. By the time she passed a second time her entire body was shaking.

That was it. She couldn't go through with it. She turned to leave, unable to look in his direction, embarrassed to her core. She hated her damn little voice.

Sebastian felt every inch of her body rubbing against his own as she passed by, not once, but twice, his body loving every moment. Of course, he also heard her running away. He waited a moment longer, deciding on whether to let her go or not. He glanced at the stack of papers on his desk and decided they could wait.

He was not one to let an opportunity such as this pass him by, at least not today. He had seen these brazen games before, and normally they did nothing for him, but as he watched her heading towards the door, he decided that today was different.

A few long strides and he easily blocked her escape. "Leaving so soon?"

She slid to a halt. Her gaze fell to the floor. "Um... I was..."

He took a deliberate step forward and almost laughed when she took a step backward. He stopped his advance but she kept backing up until her back pressed into the chair.

You can do this, she repeated in her mind, even though she really wasn't so sure.

Sebastian walked up to her and looked down at the top of her head. He reached down, placed a gentle finger under her chin, and pressed it upward. She bit her lip, turning the pinkish color a vibrant red. Suddenly he wanted to taste her lips. He wanted to be the one that bit and pulled on her lower lip with his mouth and tongue. His eyes traveled past her mouth to her breasts. She had undone so many buttons he could see an ample amount of her of her breasts gleaming enticingly in the firelight, straining against the fabric, threatening to completely fall out of her gown. He reached up and moved her hair over her shoulder, giving him an even better view. His body reacted to the sight. He was quite surprised he was becoming so easily aroused. In his own defense, it had been a long time since he had a savory meal.

And even though he was becoming aroused, he was a bit reluctant to play her little game, since he did in fact have pressing matters to attend to this day, but just as he was about to step away from her he noticed her nipples had become taut from his nearness. Well, he reasoned quickly, he had put off his pressing matters before, so they could certainly wait a bit longer. He brought his hand to the front of her gown boldly and waited for a moment. When he heard no protest, he gently stroked the tips of his fingers over the swell of her breasts through the opening of her gown.

Katherine leaned back into the chair, watching his fingers delve down into her gown, her body shivering from his fiery touch. Her mind was screaming at her to go slow—that she was being too hasty. She lifted a shaky hand to stop him from delving down further. He simply pushed her hand away. She closed her eyes, not able to look at him. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her breath came out in shortened gasps. She couldn't believe she was letting a stranger caress her breasts, in the middle of a library... in the past. She tried to tell herself it was all for the poor knight, but deep down she knew that was not the only reason.

The truth was pretty obvious. She wanted him to touch her and she wanted to touch him as well, but was afraid of the consequences of such an act. Even so, that did not stop her from wanting to say something to intrigue him, tempt him, and make him burn with desire. Unfortunately, she really had no idea how to go about that. So instead, she stood there, feeling like a fool, waiting for him to make the next move.

Sebastian wondered what had happened to the brazen girl he had seen just moments before. He leaned in closer. She smelled of sweet flowers warmed by the sun. Her head turned to the side, giving him access to the delicate curve of her neck. Her pulse was throbbing. He gently pressed his lips over her racing pulse, licking the sweetness of her skin. She tasted so good.

He leaned back a bit and then dipped down again to kiss her lips. Brushing his lips against hers, he used his tongue to open her mouth so he could deepen the kiss. His body reacted as she kissed him back.

He groaned in pleasure and pulled her body closer to his own, suddenly not able to feel close enough to her. He ran his hand over her breasts, squeezing, kneading them, and deepened the kiss further while reaching around and loosening her gown. She opened her mouth wider, letting his tongue delve even deeper.

"You taste so sweet," he breathed out seductively.

Katherine's body tingled all over, aching for more as he pressed his leg between hers. Cool air blew over her legs as he lifted her gown, adding to the heat from his nearness, instead of taking it away.

Sebastian fingered the smooth material of her gown, gathering it in his hand. Lifting it higher, he continued to kiss her soft, pillowy lips, loving the way they felt against his own.

"I am going to take you right here... right now," he murmured huskily against her ear, his mouth nibbling against her neck and playfully nipping the sensitive skin just below her ear.

He thought she may protest and when she didn't, he lifted his head and looked at her face. Her eyes were shut, a look of wonderment on her lovely flushed face. If he didn't know better he would think she had no idea what he was about to do to her person. But with no protest, he became even bolder, wondering how much farther she was willing to take this little game she had begun. Keeping her skirts in one hand, he pulled her bodice down with the other, releasing her breasts entirely from the confines of her gown. He moaned in pleasure at the sight, placed his mouth on her hardened nipple, suckling it with his lips, tongue, until she gasped out in pleasure, and leaned more fully against his arousal. He suddenly didn't care what game she was playing, he was hard, straining against his breeches, wanting... no, needing release.

He pushed into her more, waiting for her to do something, anything, other than demurely kiss his neck. He pulled her bodice down further, pressing forward while toying with the other breast with the tips of his fingers.

Her breasts were even more delectable than he remembered. He waited for the inevitable, savoring the moment for just a bit longer. He knew she would release him at any moment, doing the same thing to his body, which Annabelle had done so many times before. She finally released his neck and ran her hands down the front of his chest. Then she stopped.

He held back a groan, waiting once more. He couldn't take it. He slid his hand over the round curve of her sweet derriere, dipping his hand just between her legs, and then slowly pulling back.

She sucked in her breath as though she were shocked. He smiled, enjoying her little game of innocence as she tormented his body with her own. He lowered his mouth to her breast again, kissing her everywhere, instead of the one place she wanted his mouth. He wanted her to see how it felt to be teased. She slid her hand back into his hair as he slipped his hand down between her legs once more. He could tell she was more than ready for him and still... she did nothing. It was so obvious to him she was no longer an innocent. The way she rubbed her breasts against him, the way her mouth toyed with his, sucking, pulling, teasing. He forced her previous admission from his mind that her lover would be returning for her. He knew she did not outwardly admit he was her lover, but where else could she have been all this time if not with a lover? He forced the images from his mind—he didn't want to think about that now.

She continued to tease him, but thoughts of her betrayal bubbled forth again. That was it. He had enough of her silly games. Grabbing her hand from around his neck, he pushed it down over his breeches and kept his hand over hers, waiting to see what she would do.

Katherine froze. He was putting her hand right on his... Oh, she was taking this little game way too far. Her mind was spinning—she was out of control. She had to slow down. If she slept with him now, he would surely lose interest. Cosmopolitan never said, "Give him all you have and hope he comes back for seconds." She was sure it worked for some girls, but unfortunately, Katherine didn't think she could swing that one.

No, she knew if she slept with him now, she would be just like any other girl he slept with. Nothing more than a moment's pleasure. It all made complete sense to Katherine, but it didn't stop her body from shivering with desire when his fingers slid down between her legs once more. She wanted to cave. Her body trembled. She did not know what to do. Would it even make a difference? Her mind said yes, but her body said no.

Sebastian was tired of waiting for her to figure out what she was going to do. He sighed in frustration, letting go of her hand. He took a step back and ran his hands over his face. He was still hard as hell. What silly game was she playing now?

Well, he certainly knew how Annabelle felt when he left her in such a state. This precocious wench was taking him to the edge and leaving him there. He looked at her face, so lovely and flushed. Her bare breasts were still exposed, a sheen of perspiration shining on them in the firelight. She kept her gaze downcast. He was tempted to walk away, but something stopped him. He found he could not walk away, at least not yet.

Apparently, he was not ready to quit this silly little game of cat and mouse. So instead of leaving, he stepped forward and grabbed her body roughly to his own. He was satisfied when she gasped, followed by a breathy moan of pleasure.

He pulled her against him fully and seized her mouth once again.

"If you want to stop you had best speak up," he groaned against her lips while gathering her gown in his hand. Reaching around the back of her, he grabbed onto each cheek of her perfectly rounded derrière, and squeezed until she whimpered in pleasure. With a satisfied smile, he lifted her right leg up and settled himself against her. Once again, her hands slid slowly down the front of his chest. He waited. Her hands stilled again.

"You are driving me crazy," he growled and seized her soft lips, devouring all she was offering.

He could feel her fingers toying with the fastenings on his breeches. He throbbed to be touched under the fabric. She was taking too long. He tore his mouth from hers and grabbed her breast again. She was so close to giving him exactly what he wanted... what he needed. He ran his hand roughly up her leg, his fingers almost touching her where he knew she burned, making her wait as well. Turnabout was fair play.

She pressed into him, writhing, trying to move closer. He smiled and stayed his hand on her thigh, rubbing slowly, methodically with his fingers, up and down, up and down he caressed, getting closer with each pass.

Oh, he wanted to give her what she so obviously wanted but his pride would not let him give in to her yet. He wanted her to make the next move in this little game of chess they had begun. He wanted her to beg. She was shaking, and her breath was coming out in rushed hitches as her fingers fumbled with the front of his breeches. He leaned in, kissing her just below her ear, right on the sweet spot of her neck.

"That's it," he coaxed and she shivered against him in response.

One button finally undone. He closed his eyes... he could almost taste the satisfaction. There were only a few more, then she could wrap her sweet...

A large crash sounded in the hall, followed by, "Oh no!"

Sebastian's body tensed. "What the Bloody Hell was that!" He took one look at her face and released her skirts, the fabric swished down her bare legs to the floor.

He tried to see her face, but again, she would not even look at him. Groaning, he ran his hands over his face and then dropped them back to his sides.

Not knowing what to say, he shook his head and reluctantly turned away to find out what in the hell just happened in the hall.

TIME DOES NOT HEAL ALL WOUNDS

Hawthorne Manor

DEVLIN strode into Hawthorne Manor with an air of noble authority, his face still chilled from the haste in which he rode back to the manor. He was in need of release now.

"Judith!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the hall and into the study. "Judith!" he called, louder, running up the stairs to look in the room they were staying in, Isabelle's bedchamber. He usually found her up there, trying on Isabelle's clothing, admiring herself in the mirror.

However, Judith was not there, either. "Bloody Hell!" he exclaimed, running his hand through his hair in aggravation. Judith was never around when he actually wanted her to be. He walked back down the stairs, stopping long enough to throw his coat over the railing. He almost yelled for a servant, before remembering he made them all leave under the guise of a coming blizzard.

He certainly didn't need them meddling in his affairs, since he wasn't sure what to do with Isabelle. Judith, of course, wanted her gone. He couldn't do that though—at least not yet. No, he would need to think on it some more, another day perhaps. Maybe she would come to her senses and realize she was the one who pushed him into Judith's awaiting arms.

Wanting nothing more than a hot beverage and some damn release, he strode into the study and poured an ample amount of brandy in his glass. It was close to the brim, but not a drop slipped from the crystal snifter onto the carpet. He smiled knowingly and settled himself into a chair in front of the fireplace that had long since gone cold.

Devlin let his mind stray to another time... the tightening in him growing worse with the memories....

HAWTHORNE MANOR ♦ MEMORY

"Devlin put those bags down. You are the Lord of Hawthorne now, not a servant," Isabelle berated him as she pulled her gloves off and handed them to Charles.

Devlin tensed. "Sorry, love. I have not gotten used to my new station in life as of yet."

"Oh Devlin, give it time, you'll come around soon enough." Using her index finger she beckoned him to her.

Devlin smiled. They had just come back from their honeymoon—it was a long one. Isabelle wanted to visit so many places and see so many things. She often told him she needed to show him off. He found out quickly enough that his role was only to be seen, not heard. He had become Isabelle's young show pony, to parade in front of society and her so-called haggish friends with doddering husbands. He wondered if everyone could see the invisible lead rope tethered to his neck as she dragged him around, making him prance. He certainly could feel it, squeezing the life from him as each day passed... until the day he saw her, Marguerite...

♦

He sighed aloud and took another drink. Loosening his cravat. He closed his eyes and let his mind slip back into the past...

♦

"Isabelle, where did you say we were going this evening?" Devlin asked, rushing into the study. It was Isabelle's favorite place to be, besides the bedchamber. He pulled up short in his progression.

A young woman stood in the middle of the room, her spine rigid. She was speaking in hushed, angry tones to Isabelle. He saw Isabelle cut her a silencing glare.

Then she turned around, looking over her shoulder at him. His breath caught in his throat. He felt like he had been thrown from his prized stallion—all wind knocked from his lungs. Ironically, Isabelle bought him the stallion for a wedding gift. He found it fitting, especially since he was the one that turned out to be the actual show pony.

Her violet eyes ignited with anger, her face flushed, her cheeks glistened with tears she had recently shed, and yet, she still smiled at him sweetly. That simple gesture was his undoing. Devlin saw the light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel that day. He smiled back with all the emotion he was feeling. They had a connection.

"Close your mouth, Devlin, you're salivating," Isabelle warned, her green eyes sparking with anger. She, Marguerite, quickly turned away, covering her face before dashing from the room.

Devlin shut his mouth obediently and smoothed his features.

Yes, that was the day when Isabelle became nothing more to him than a means to an end.

A MOMENT'S PLEASURE CAN FADE

Ravenhurst

SEBASTIAN dragged his hand through his hair, making it stand on end while one of the servants helped Milford to the kitchen. The man almost gave Sebastian heart failure. When he went to the foyer to see what the commotion was about, he saw Milford lying amongst broken glass and greenery. His leg twisted awkwardly, and his face was ashen. Sebastian immediately thought the worst.

Luckily, Milford had only taken a small spill. Apparently he slipped on some of the water from the vase of greenery he carried. Sebastian wasn't sure what he was doing carrying the vase in the first place. The maids usually did all the floral arrangements. But it was the end to the moment he shared with Marguerite. Now he lifted heavily lidded eyes to her as she braced herself in the library doorway. Her face was still flushed, her gown rumpled, and her hair was completely undone. She looked well loved, even though they had yet to finish what they started with one another.

Just looking at her, he could feel himself hardening again. Her blue eyes glittered with a hint of a sweet, shy smile, pulling on the corners of her swollen lips.

He suddenly wondered if she looked like that with the rakehell she left him for. Did she let him touch her body the same way? Did she make his pulse race by playing her coy, little games? Did she make the rogue wait to be touched as well? He did not think so.

Lifting his eyes to hers once more, he felt sicker as each moment passed. He could not take it. He gave her a cutting look and watched her face fall. She wrapped her arms around herself, a look of hurt and confusion crossing her face. A pang of guilt assailed him, which he dashed away quickly. He had to hand it to her... she was good. He almost believed her...almost. He would not be taken in again. He was a complete and utter fool. He gave her one last, harsh look, then turned on his heel and walked deliberately away, wishing all the while that she never came back.

PAYBACKS ARE A BITCH

Hawthorne Manor

JUDITH balanced the tray on her hip and peered into the gloom of the cellar through the bars in the door. "Oh, Isabelle, do rouse your sorry-self. I brought food for you, and if you're nice, I won't throw it on the floor this time."

Judith giggled like a naughty child.

Isabelle lay perfectly still, forcing herself not to rebuff the little trollop.

Irritated, Judith stopped laughing. Isabelle was not playing fair. That old bat was taking all the fun out of her little game. She was having such a good time tormenting Isabelle she even came earlier than usual this day.

"Isabelle," she sang out, her shrill voice filling the air. "I have to say, Devlin and I have been having such a grand time making use of your chamber since you have been indisposed," she snickered meanly, shifting the tray on her side.

"You know, it still boggles my mind how you ever thought a man such as Devlin would be interested in an old, dried-up crone like you." Judith laughed harder, emitting a snorting sound.

"I swear, you must have been desperate to actually believe he enjoyed having his way with you," she jeered again.

There was no response.

Judith was getting angry. This was no fun.

She watched for any signs of movement, but there was still none. She began to know fear. If she accidentally starved the old bat, Devlin would certainly notice. Of course, he would blame her, as he always did whenever their plans went awry. Moreover, Judith knew she would end up as dead as their captive if that occurred. Setting down the tray, she unbarred the door.

Cautiously, she entered the room. A vile smell assaulted her. She covered her face, thinking it smelled just as she imagined an old crone would smell, disgusting. She kicked Isabelle's leg with her booted foot but she did not budge.

Suppressing a gag, she reached down with one hand while the other covered her face, and tried to turn her over.

Isabelle stayed as limp as possible, letting Judith roll her over. She gripped the cup in her hand. When Judith was close enough, she smashed the cup with all her force into the side of Judith's head.

Judith stumbled backward.

Lifting her hand, she touched the side of her head and then pulled her fingers away—they were full of warm, wet blood. She looked at them in confused shock.

Isabelle struggled to stand and then hit Judith again with everything she had.

Judith's eyes rolled back into her head and she fell forward onto the floor, right into Isabelle's vomit.

Isabelle threw her cup—it clanked loudly on the floor. She wiped her shaking hands on the front of her filthy skirt. "That's what you get for sleeping with my husband." She gathered what little saliva she still had in her mouth and spat directly onto the side of Judith's face.

"And that is for throwing my food on the floor." She laughed a bit—it was a dry, harsh sound.

"Who's paying now, Judith?" she asked her still form. Brushing her hair from her face with a filthy hand, she staggered out the door of her prison.

INDECISION

Ravenhurst - Katherine

A clock rang loudly in the distance, marking the hour. It was eight o'clock and still Sebastian had not made an appearance. Katherine stared bleakly out the window. A fresh, white blanket of snow covered the ground. She cradled a glass of wine in her hand, hugging herself, remembering their earlier encounter. She still tingled from head to toe every time she thought of his body pressed against hers. She touched her lips with the glass, taking another sip where his kisses had ravaged them, leaving them swollen and tender.

She had no idea what to do. After sending Milford on his way, he had made her insides twist, glaring at her like she was the worst person on earth. She had no idea where all his venom could have come from. She thought they were... well... almost going to be together. But no, after the mishap with Milford, he gave her such an awful expression, she wanted to run and hide. She was so embarrassed.

Katherine guessed the sampling of her savory meal had left him with a sour stomach. She laughed a little, but her voice sounded empty and hollow, just like her insides. What could she do? She finished off the rest of the wine and lifted the glass in the air. A footman appeared from the shadows and refilled her glass. She took another drink. Rejection sucked worse in the past than it did in the future.

♦

Sebastian noted the time as he paced the length of his chamber. It was half past ten. He swilled the amber liquid directly from the bottle—it burned, but at least it numbed his emotions.

He was dressed in one of his best waistcoats—severely cut with matching breeches. His shirt was pristine, and his neck cloth tied with precision. Brummell would have been proud.

Yet, he couldn't go down to dine with Marguerite. He was late, but that did not seem to matter. Instead, he kept replaying in his mind their interlude in the library earlier. What was he to do with her? He did not know his body would betray his mind thusly. He wanted to finish what he started, but to what end?

They would be married in just a few short days. One would think he could wait. But really, why should he? She had not. She let another take what rightfully belonged to him. And, as much as he hated to admit it, that is where he found himself, battling a silent war within. Did he want more than just one night? Did he want a future?

He laughed. It was hollow and tinged with an ample amount of bitterness. What was he even thinking? Perhaps he would have cared for her in time, but after she left him for another, how could he? His pride would not let him relent, not yet at any rate, if ever. The wounds were too new.

No, he would wait and make her beg for what she so easily tossed aside for another man. He ran his hand over his face. He needed a distraction. Hell, what he really needed was some damn relief.

Perhaps he should leave now and go to London—have a few savory meals...he smiled then, as an image of Marguerites shocked expression popped into his mind. Oh no, she was not too happy about being compared to food... not one bit. He laughed again, and again it was hollow. Frustrated, he set the bottle down and sat on the edge of the chair in front of the fire, leaning forward to watch the flames dance back and forth. It was a shame he had angered Annabelle so badly or else he may have been able to make a quick visit and satiate his hunger with her, even though he knew it would only be a temporary reprieve. He quickly discarded the idea. No, he did not want Annabelle... he wanted the girl with the fathomless blue eyes who made his pulse race and his body respond.

And why shouldn't he have her? She was going to be his, sooner rather than later, anyway and it was obvious she had wanted him as well. He thought about it for a moment... why shouldn't he finish what they started? What difference did a couple of days make?

He stood then, his mind made up, and went off to do exactly that.

YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

Hawthorne Manor

DEVLIN opened his eyes and ripped his cravat completely off; then threw on the floor. He stood and walked over to the sideboard. Lifting the bottle, he refilled his glass. Bringing the bottle back with him, he set it on the table. Sitting back down, he sank into the cushions and let out an audible sigh.

Marguerite was back.

His heart pounded excitedly, remembering the connection he thought they once shared. The way her eyes followed his every move. The secret smiles she gave him behind Isabelle's back. It all made perfect sense at the time. How could he have gotten her signals so wrong? The ones she practically threw at him every chance she got.

Devlin was sure Marguerite's shy, secretive smiles were for his eyes alone. He thought she was giving him a silent invitation. An invitation he meant to accept when the timing was right...

HAWTHORNE MANOR ♦ MEMORY

He waited patiently, biding his time... then one night, Isabelle drank too much wine, with his coaxing, of course. It took quite a few drinks, but finally she fell back onto the bed they shared and drifted off to a drunken slumber.

Quietly, so as not to awaken her, he climbed from the bed and gently turned Isabelle on her side, placing a soft pillow under her arm. She often sought him out in sleep and he did not want her to awaken, so his hope was that the pillow would do the trick. He donned his robe at the bottom of the bed and slipped out of the room. His bare feet made no sound on the runner carpet as he hurriedly rushed down the hall to Marguerite's chamber. He opened the door, noting it was unlocked. He wondered if she left the door unlocked on purpose in anticipation of his arrival. He smiled at the thought and silently slipped inside her room and quietly closed the door.

Darkness hung heavily around the edges of the room with the exception of the full moon's light that slid in from a large bank of windows on the far side of the room. He was thankful the drapes were open or else he would have never been able to see in the darkened room. It was another clue she had been expecting him, for why else leave the curtains open, especially when there was such a chill in the air.

Slowly, he walked around a few pieces of furniture, making his way to the bed. Marguerite looked so lovely, angelic even, lying there with her pale complexion, full lips and dark curling lashes.

He ached to kiss her, to taste her sweet lips... if only for a moment.

It would assuredly be the most profound moment of his life... to kiss the one girl with whom he had a true connection. She treated him as though he were an actual person who she enjoyed talking with about any number of interesting topics. She loved books and, more times than not, they had both wanted to read the same book. So they had begun to share them and met once a week to discuss their thoughts with one another.

Isabelle, on the other hand, didn't have much use for his thoughts—she was more interested in his prowess in bed. He could go all night and Isabelle loved that about him, or so she told him often, in the midst of their love play in the bedroom, library, study, carriage, once in the stable and of course, on the dining table. He smiled with that remembrance—the table was one of the more interesting and pleasing places to have sex. The smooth surface of the table made it easier to slide her back and forth in her gown while repeatedly driving into her. He smiled again. Yes, the table was very pleasing.

He lifted his hand and smoothed her long hair away from her face, watching her sleep. Not able to help himself, he leaned forward and gave her the gentlest of kisses, waking her slowly.

She moaned ever so slightly in response and rolled onto her back. He smiled sweetly down at her, undoing the belt to his robe, and shrugged it off his shoulders. The robe fell soundlessly to the floor. The cool air sent shivers across his skin. He pulled the blanket back slowly to climb under the covers.

She opened her eyes.

"Shhh, it's me love, do not be afraid," he whispered.

She sat up and pushed away from him on the bed. "Devlin?"

"Yes, my love," he said tenderly.

"What are you doing?" She scooched further away.

"What does it look like I am doing?"

"I hope to God you are sleepwalking because if you aren't, we have a serious problem."

Devlin misunderstood. "Do not worry yourself over such trivial matters my sweet. Isabelle, is sound asleep. I am sure she will not wake until morning," he assured her as he tried to snuggle closer to her in bed.

"Please, Devlin. Are you insane? Did you drink too much of Isabelle's sherry? Has alcohol muddled your mind like Sebastian's?"

"I don't understand. I thought we had a connection," he said, shaking his head as though he couldn't quite grasp what was happening or why.

Marguerite backed up even more and then pulled her legs up to her chest. "Listen, you and I are acquaintances through circumstance, with a few common interests in books, nothing more."

"But, I thought..."

"That's the problem... you thought."

He lifted his face and looked at her. "Perhaps..." he trailed off and reached over to pull her too him, thinking she only needed a little encouragement.

"Stop it, Devlin!" She pushed against his body with her feet until she shoved him completely from the bed.

Devlin hit the ground hard.

The cool air made him shiver. He stood up, completely forgetting that he was naked.

Marguerite stared at him, her eyes widening and then she did the most horrific thing imaginable.

She laughed.

It was not a simple laugh either. No, her laugh was cruel. She intended to do the most damage and did not stop there.

"Oh dear," she said, trying to stifle her laughter. "Surely you did not come to my room and expect to have your way with me?" she asked, her tone taking on a mean, cruel edge as she looked him up and down.

Devlin was in shock. He stood completely still, his body and mind fully exposed to her jeers.

"Oh dear, look at your face. Devlin..." she began and then stopped with another fit of giggles. She got herself back under control and, wiping a stray tear from her eye said, "You are my aunts stud... I mean... ah... husband, if you could call it that." She waved her hand dismissively like that was of no consequence and took a breath. "There is no way in hell I am going to sleep with you... ever."

"Because I am married to Isabelle," he said, thinking it would be a fitting end. "We could divorce," he added hopefully as an afterthought.

She frowned and was quiet for a moment and then let out an exasperated sigh. "Devlin, it is not because of Isabelle."

"Then why?" he asked, because he didn't understand.

She wrinkled her face, and then pursed her lips together as if debating her answer. "Try not to look so forlorn. What I am referring to is in no way a personal matter, really." She pulled her knees back into her chest. "I simply prefer a more virile type of man, one with brawn and substance." She looked him up and down again. "And, I hate to point out that you, Devlin, do not possess any of my requirements."

He recoiled from her cruel words. They chilled him to his core. She was no better than Isabelle. He reached down, grabbed his dressing robe from the floor, and pulled it on, tightening the belt. He strode out of her room, her laughter following in his wake.

♦

Devlin's mind came back to the present. His body shuddered involuntarily from the painful memory. He lifted his glass and took another hefty swallow of his drink. And even still, after all this time, not to mention the abysmal way she treated him, he should hate her. Instead, he found he still wanted her so badly it made his insides churn. Letting out a shaky sigh, he finished his drink.

He always wondered why she never mentioned that night to Isabelle. And why, when their paths did cross, he was surprised to find that she never acted unpleasantly towards him. Of course, he tried to avoid her, but he found his eyes would follow her everywhere she went. And every once in a while, when she didn't think he was looking, he caught her watching him as well.

Of course, that was before Marguerite had walked up the gravel path in the garden and caught Devlin with his breeches around his ankles, taking Judith against one of the statues.

Judith preferred the outdoors. It was easier to hide from the prying eyes of the staff and Isabelle. He was nearing climax when she walked around the corner and froze, her eyes widening in wonderment. He thought she would bashfully turn away, scream, or run and yet, she simply stood there, watching. He kept his gaze trained on her beautiful face as he continued to thrust into Judith from behind as she writhed and moaned in pleasure until he finally found his release. It was one of the most explosive climaxes he had ever experienced in his life.

It was two days after the episode in the garden when Marguerite had approached him in the library and had told him he had to get rid of Judith or else she would tell Isabelle. Of course, he could not let that happen.

He had stupidly told Judith, and on the evening of Marguerites and Sebastian's marriage, Judith decided to take matters into her own hands. She was getting rid of Marguerite once and for all. On some level, Devlin was sure Judith sensed his feelings toward Marguerite and that was why she was so hell- bent on getting rid of her.

Thankfully, Judith botched up her attempt at murder and now Marguerite was back. He closed his eyes and silently thanked the Lord above and while he was at it, begged for forgiveness for his part in the entire debacle.

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

Somewhere around Ravenhurst - Isabelle

SNOWFLAKES floated absently to the ground from the black sky above as she made her escape. She wondered when the snow had fallen. Wasn't it too early for snow? She stumbled. Her hands and feet were like ice. The pain that was so intense only moments before began to fade into numbness.

Isabelle knew she should be worried about whether or not she would ever make it to Ravenhurst, or if Devlin would find her but instead, her mind strayed to Clive, her deceased brother. The way he passed had always seemed a bit too tidy to her.

THE ESTATE GROUNDS ♦MEMORY

♦ THE HUNT

Whips rent the air, cracking loudly... Clive was at the front of the pack, the one that chased the "Master of Hounds," his pink coat in vibrant contrast to the scenery. There were fifteen men riding in the hunt. "The Huntsman" and at least two "whipper-ins" kept the hounds in a pack off in the distance. The hounds barked loudly, alerting the group they were about to run the fox to ground.

A large hedgerow ran through the middle of the hill. It was dangerously high on one side. Only a rider with a death wish would jump over the hedge at full speed. The ravine was only a short distance away, and you would have to land perfectly.

Clive raced ahead of the group, flying at breakneck speed, his horse eating up the ground. He turned, calling out over his shoulder, the wind whipping his light brown hair.

He was quite a spectacle to behold.

Dashing, handsome even, Isabelle suddenly saw what Victoria had always seen in Clive. He was so arrogant, but in that moment, he was simply beautiful.

The jump was risky, almost impossible, and yet everyone held their breaths, hoping, watching in disbelief as his horse flew upwards over the hedge.

She couldn't believe he actually cleared the jump.

It happened so quickly. His trusty, dapple-gray hunter stumbled forward unnaturally. Clive's body followed, flying from his horse.

The entire scene slowed in her mind. It was almost as if an invisible force reached up and waylaid Clive.

The group took a moment to react and by the time everyone reached the top of the ridge, it was too late. Clive's horse was limping away, two bright red slashes on each of his front legs.

It was obvious Clive was not as fortunate as his horse. Some of the group looked over the edge of the ravine, confirming to her that Clive was indeed gone.

♦

Tightness gripped her chest as her mind came back to the present. A single tear slipped from her eye, freezing as quickly as it fell. Ahead, she spotted a tree. If only she could make it to the tree, she could rest for a moment. Catch her breath, she told herself. Somehow, she made it. She fell at the base, leaning against the rough bark, and situated herself between the thick roots, jutting out from the frozen earth. She was so tired.

Tiny snowflakes danced across the horizon. So very beautiful they were. She closed her eyes, giving her body and mind over to a wintry slumber, letting it pull her fully into its icy grasp, knowing full well she may not ever awaken again.

NEVER UNDERESTIMATE YOUR PARTNER

Hawthorne Manor

"IMPOSSIBLE!" Devlin shouted at the top of his lungs. "What in the hell do you mean, she is gone?" He threaded his fingers through his hair, infuriated, trying to control the urge to wrap his hands around Judith's bare throat and choke the life from her.

"I am not sure what happened," Judith wailed, wringing her hands together like a child. "One moment she was lying there unconscious, and I wanted to make sure she was not ill," she said, trying to defend her actions. "How could I know she was being deceptive? She never tried the like before." She tried to make Devlin see the reasoning behind her words. When his expression didn't alter, she leaned forward and tried another tactic.

"Please Devlin," she begged. "How was I to know she would trick me? She was lying on the floor and then, the next thing I knew, I woke up in that stinking pit, all alone, with my face in her vomit."

Judith cringed.

"Thank goodness she left the door open or else I would have been trapped." She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

Devlin was so angry, he couldn't think straight. And Judith's constant yammering wasn't helping any. He needed to think fast but he couldn't, because Judith wouldn't shut the hell up. "My God Judith, please shut your mouth! I cannot think with that trap of yours yapping in my ear."

Judith stumbled back.

Devlin bent over and braced his hands on his thighs, trying to catch a breath. He lifted his head and ran his hands down his face. "She will run straight to Ravenhurst."

He barked out a bitter laugh of defeat.

"Now what in the hell do we do, Judith?"

"We?" she asked in appalled shock. "I told you we needed to get rid of her, but you wanted her to sign those blasted papers. I knew you were taking a chance," she accused, walking towards him. Lifting her finger, she pressed it into his chest. "But no... you," she stressed the word and poked him again. "You can't do anything my way?" She poked him again, harder this time. "Can you?" she asked, her voice turning shriller by the moment. "No, you can never do anything right, can you Devlin?" she railed once more, completely missing the look that fell over his face.

Devlin stood there, his blood pumping through his veins as he clenched his hands into fists.

Judith finally caught his look. She decidedly began to backtrack as she tried to pacify his anger.

"Please do not be angry with me," she implored. "Let's take the money we have and leave this place before she ever reaches Ravenhurst. We can go abroad, make a new life, with new identities. It worked before, why not again?"

Devlin felt like he was suffocating, and she wasn't helping. He tried to step away from her but she held fast to his arm. "Judith, let go of me," he warned.

"Please, Devlin, let's leave now." She begged more, still holding onto him, petting, and squeezing his hand.

Finally, Devlin could not take it anymore. She was driving him mad with her insipid ways. "Judith, let me go!"

"No, Devlin... please... I said I was sorry."

"What for Judith? Letting Isabelle escape? Almost killing Marguerite? Or are you sorry you ever became involved with me?"

Judith's temper flared as soon as she heard Marguerite's name. She stepped into his face. "So, we are back to that little bitch, again. What in the hell is wrong with you, Devlin? Open your eyes... that girl thinks you are a rutting stag for her guardian, nothing more. I cannot believe how stupid you are. She does not care for you, never has. And yet you still drool all over her like some lovesick puppy dog. You are pathetic," she scathed.

Devlin couldn't take it. He had enough of her verbal abuse to last a lifetime—an image of himself as a young child flashed in his mind. His own mother screaming at him, telling him was pathetic, and that he would never be anything.

He lost it.

He tried to pass Judith but she stepped in his way. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and violently tossed her body away from his. He had to get out of the house, he couldn't breathe.

Judith slammed face first into the wall and fell to the ground, stopping Devlin as he tried to exit. A trickle of blood slid down her chin from where she must have bit the inside of her mouth. She lifted her finger to her mouth and looked at it. "I am bleeding," she complained, sounding surprised.

Devlin clenched his hands together as he paced back and forth in front of her. He gave her a look full of loathing. "Now see what you made me do? I told you to shut your mouth... I have to think. But no, you can't listen, can you? You never listen, do you, Judith?" he repeated her own words back to her.

Judith narrowed her eyes and used the sleeve of her gown to wipe the blood from her mouth. She went too far and now there would be no pacifying him, at least not this day. She needed to get the hell out of here while she was still in one piece. She knew what men were capable of when they were provoked. She had always thought Devlin was different, but obviously, he wasn't.

Devlin stopped pacing. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. Then he ran his hands over his face, dragging his fingers down his cheeks and then he began to laugh. It was a small chuckle at first and then it became louder as the last grains of his sanity appeared to slip away.

"You do realize, Judith, we will hang from the gallows for sure now," he stated simply. He pulled at his jacket sleeve and then tugged on the cuff of his shirt. "Well, there is nothing to do now, I suppose," he said the latter with a candor he did not feel. Truly, he was past feeling. Why bother? He walked purposefully over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. He lifted the glass, tossed the contents back, and poured another, thinking he may as well enjoy it while it lasted.

Judith felt the inescapability of the situation and began to take pity on the man that was more than a bedfellow to her. At times, she felt as though they were truly destined for one another. She cleared her throat, cautiously gauging his reaction to her next words.

"Devlin, surely she has not gotten very far. It is cold and getting dark. Besides the cold, she has to make her way through the snow as well. It must be weighing heavily on her skirts by now."

"What did you say?" He turned towards her.

"I said it was getting dark."

"Not that, JUDITH!" he said, quickly getting frustrated again. "I meant the last thing you said."

"I don't know what you are asking me," Judith complained and leaned further back against the wall.

Devlin squeezed his glass as he tried to control his growing ire again and stalked purposefully towards his quarry with slow deliberation. Kneeling down, he took her chin in his hand and looked directly into her eyes. "How long?" he asked slowly, his voice coming out unnaturally calm.

"How long what, Devlin?" Judith mumbled past his fingers that were covering part of her mouth.

He slowed his words, articulating each one. "How... long... has... Isabelle... been... gone?"

Judith stammered, "I really cannot say."

Devlin pushed her away from him in disgust.

Judith slid up the wall and stood, wondering if she could make a run for it. She inched closer to the doorway. "Surely it was not that long. As I said, there is snow, and if you go now, surely you can find which way she went."

Judith froze when Devlin halted his pacing.

A slow smile crept across Devlin's face. If he acted quickly, he may have a reprieve from the gallows after all. Grabbing a fresh bottle of liquor, he gave Judith one last, derisive look. She was pitiful. He wondered why in the hell he ever wasted his time on her.

Devlin grabbed his greatcoat, hat, and threw them on quickly. Then he strode purposefully out of Hawthorne Manor and into the dark night, hoping like hell he was able to find Isabelle before she made it to Ravenhurst.

FINDERS KEEPERS

Radcliff Manor

THE Duke of Radcliff, Grayson Radcliff, wiped a wet cloth across his new houseguest's brow. "Who are you?" he whispered, more to himself than the woman lying in his bed.

When he discovered her on his way home from town, she was practically frozen. It was purely by chance he found her at all. If his horse hadn't insisted on investigating a small patch of grass sprouting from the snow, he would have never even seen her lying at the base of a tree. Her eyes shut, her brows, lashes, and hair covered with a fine dusting of snow, that made her appear like a winter princess in her very own winter wonderland.

Not wasting a moment, he quickly dismounted and checked her body for any signs of life. Her pulse was faint at best. Gathering her up in his arms, he held her snugly against his chest, trying to give her whatever warmth he could as he remounted his horse. He carried her back to his home as quickly as the weather would permit.

THE CRAZY THINGS THAT YOU DO

Ravenhurst

KATHERINE decided she had had it with the past. She wanted to go home and forget all about this place and its occupants. Why should she change her entire life just to help some knight she did not even know? Surely, Milford could find someone else. Stopping her pacing, she looked at the dresser, some of the vehemence gone from her earlier rant.

"Forget this!" She did not need rejection in the past. She had enough of that crap in the future. Maybe she should just put the necklace back on and see? Would she disappear? Would Sebastian even know she existed? Really, should she even care at this point?

She took a breath, opened the bottom drawer, and took the necklace from the box. It really was beautiful. The blood-red stone sparkled in the light. The most unusual detail about the necklace was the strange little adornments resting on parts of the stone, protruding from the gold. They looked out of place somehow, not original, maybe added later, but why?

Katherine instantly wished Amelia were around somewhere, even if she was a rude bitch at the party. At least she could probably date the piece. Katherine searched the recesses of her mind, trying to recall anything similar.

The more she touched the stone, the warmer it became, and the color began to turn a deeper red with white smoke swirling within. She held the necklace tightly within her hand, feeling a jolt run through her body while a scene unfurled in her mind with vivid clarity.

NEW YORK CITY ♦ PRESENT DAY♦FLASH

A dark-haired girl about the same age as Katherine walked down an elegant hallway, humming a light, airy tune. She was wearing a gorgeous, swirling-print dress reminiscent of vintage Pucci. Of course, it fit her like a glove. She was also wearing a pair of Christian Louboutin sling-backs, unmistakable with their bright red soles—she could spot those suckers up to a block away on the street.

Katherine groaned.

Her clothes-envy switch turned on instantly. The girl's sweet shoes echoed across the marbled floor. The scene mesmerized her until her insatiable purse-envy kicked into high gear. The girl grabbed a Kelly-green Birkin bag off a chair, looked inside and pulled something out, then tossed it carelessly onto a chair.

Katherine cringed.

Good Lord, did that girl not realize how awesome that purse was? You don't toss a Birkin—you set it down gently. There should be instructions on how to care for a Birkin. If the bag's owner doesn't abide by it, the Birkin police will come and take the bag away. And give it to someone deserving, someone like Katherine Jamison, who would love, and cherish it, every day of her life.

The purse abuser walked past a large bank of windows, giving Katherine a brief glimpse of a city lit up in the night. The girl sighed, which vibrated deep in Katherine's ear as she walked up to a huge mirror, a tube of Chanel lipstick in her hand and leaned forward...

The necklace slipped from Katherine's fingers and thudded onto the floor. The unbelievable image stuck in her mind. "Who in the hell was that?"

Good Lord, the girl in her vision with the svelte figure and the awesome clothes looked exactly like her, well, with the exception of being quite a few pounds lighter, which was just not fair. Why in the hell was she envisioning herself in an extravagant room, in some city, model-thin? And not only did she have one heck of a body, she also had one hell of a wardrobe.

Was that her future? Or was that someone who looked the same as she did on a really good day? Could she be Marguerite? It had to be. That was more believable than having a svelte figure in the future.

Katherine barked out a hysterical laugh, which made her sound like a lunatic. She was starting to think that label wasn't so farfetched at this point. The entire situation was so outlandish, impossible even, she wondered if she were going crazy. She could swear she smelt the girl's perfume lingering in the air, along with the muffled sounds of the city.

She blinked her eyes.

What was she doing, imagining in 4D? She suddenly wished she could do that all the time. Just imagine the dreams she could have. She shook her head, maybe not. She would never leave home. The entire situation was turning into a bad episode of The Twilight Zone.

She looked down at the necklace on the carpet, the stone glowing. She turned her face away and used the bottom of her gown to grab hold of the necklace, using it as a buffer and rushed across the room to the dresser. She tossed it into the bottom drawer and kicked it shut with her foot. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her skirt, leaving wet marks on the silk, and emitted a shaky breath.

A light knock sounded on the door.

She jumped.

With her hands pressed to her chest, she walked towards the door. She felt amped up, jittery, like she drank an entire pot of coffee. "Don't be silly Katherine, it's probably Tabby," she tried to tell herself.

Of course, Tabby usually opened the door herself after she knocked.

Taking a reviving breath, she yanked open the door. A gust of cool air hit her in the face.

"Ah..." Her mouth dropped open.

"Good evening." Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, holding a bottle of brandy and two glasses in his hand. "May I come in?" He pushed off the doorframe, entering the room before she could reply.

Casually, he walked across the room, his shirt undone, exposing hints of his naked muscular chest.

Her mouth dropped open wider. His hair was damp, wetting the tops of his shoulders, leaving darkened spots on the pristine fabric. He smelled fresh with a hint of sandalwood leather... all man.

She gulped.

Katherine had no idea what to do or say, so she lifted up a few bottles and straightened them on the dresser, pretending to be busy. Like that was going to help. Images of his hands roaming freely over her body swirled in her mind, making her body tingle all over. She was done for.

"Marguerite..."

She turned, her heart thumping in her chest. "Yeah," she said, and then corrected herself, "Yes?" She smoothed her damp palms over her gown.

"Would you care for a drink before we start?"

"Uh, um, sure." Her brow creased.

Sebastian poured two ample glasses of brandy.

Katherine watched him, not missing that is hand shook slightly. Was he drunk? "So, um... I did not see you at dinner." She wrung her hands together nervously to cover her own shaking. "I do hope you ate something," she added, accepting the glass he offered her. She took a sip, noticing the burn wasn't nearly as bad as it was earlier. Good Lord, was she starting to like this stuff?

"I actually had a bite in my chamber just a short while ago." He looked at her over the rim of his glass and took a healthy swallow.

"Well, that is good to hear," she mumbled into her glass, taking another swallow.

Sebastian set his glass down on the mantle and crouched in front of the fire. Grabbing the poker, he jabbed it a few times against the coals, making the flames breath to life once more. "There is a bit of a chill in the room," he commented offhandedly, looking over his shoulder. His eyes caught hers.

"Yes, a bit," she lied, rubbing her arm with her free hand. Actually, she thought it was quite the opposite. Her armpits were beginning to perspire and she could feel a trickle of sweat forming between her breasts.

Slowly Sebastian straightened from the fire and leaned against the mantel. "So where were we?" He picked back up his glass.

Katherine blinked. "Where were we?"

"Yes." He took a sip of his drink. "Yes, where were we, Marguerite?" He lifted his brow. "In the library," he elaborated, his deep voice coming out a bit brusque.

The nervousness she had been feeling dissipated quickly and a flash of irritation replaced it. Either he was drunk or he was just plain stupid. She pressed her shoulders back. "Let me see if I understand what you are asking me..." she paused to take a breath, trying to calm herself, she was getting pissed. "You expect me to just continue... what we were doing... just like that?"

Sebastian smiled a knowing smile, quite pleased with her deductive abilities. At least, she wasn't stupid. "Well... yes, actually, I was," he said. "I see no reason to continue this cat and mouse game we are playing. It is not as if you are an unskilled innocent. We have both traveled down the path of love, have we not?"

Katherine's mouth formed a perfect "O." The path of love? He couldn't be serious... could he? "I... uh... um..." She wasn't quite sure how to respond. Picking up her shawl off the floor, she folded it up, and placed it back on top of the back of a chair.

"I am waiting." His brow lifted daringly.

"Well..." She stared at his gorgeous... absolutely perfect face. If she let her heart control her mind, she would jump at the chance to throw herself at him... right here... right now. But seriously, was that all she wanted? Her friend, Janice, fell into bed with everyone she dated and she was still single.

Obviously, that strategy was not a winning formula. A roll in the hay for one night was not what she was aiming for. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but it wasn't to be used and tossed aside like forgotten leftovers from one his savory meals.

No, she was better than that and her particular meal plan did not include being discarded leftovers.

She wanted more.

She wanted it to mean something, and not only to her. She wanted her night with him to be remembered with pleasure, not regret.

"Yes," he prompted, toying with his glass, making the amber liquid swirl in the bottom. Although he had imbibed in quite a bit of alcohol, he knew he might have overstepped his boundaries.

Katherine took a breath. "As much as it pains me to say this, I just don't feel tonight is the night for us to travel down that particular path."

"I see." Although Sebastian did not see at all... it would be different if she were an innocent. She left him at the altar. Could it be possible she did not desire him?

Ridiculous.

He saw with his own eyes, felt with his own body, how she responded to him. What game was she playing? he wondered.

Closing the distance between them, he placed his hand on her shoulder and spun her around. "At least, let me help you with your gown."

"Oh..." She was prepared to run across the room, not trusting herself to be in such close proximity with him, but as his fingers began to undo each button of her gown, her body betrayed her. She did not want him to leave. She grabbed her hair and pulled it out of the way, over her shoulder, to give him access to her gown.

She was pitiful.

So much for her resolve. She could feel the barest whisper of his breath on the nape of her neck as he undid each button with slow deliberation. Cool air caressed her skin, as his deft fingers left a fiery trail down her back.

"You confuse me." He lingered on the last button. Leaning forward, he inhaled her sweet scent, and then barely pressed his lips against the nape of her neck.

"Well... I confuse myself too," she admitted, not sure what else to even say. His lips on her neck were distracting, so were his fingers.

Sebastian noticed she was not protesting and he took that as a good sign. Not waiting for her answer, he pulled her body even closer to his. Leaning forward he lowered his mouth to her neck and kissed her gently....

She was doomed. He was, without a doubt, utterly divine, drunk or not. She suddenly found she didn't care if she ended up as tossed out leftovers.

Seriously, who knew if she would even be here in the morning? She turned slightly and her dress slipped further down, and truth be told, she did not care about that either. She opened her eyes, their bodies positioned in front of the mirror, with him behind, leaning over her. His dark hair fell forward as his mouth teased her, kissing her even lower.

When his smoldering gaze met her own, she shivered. It was all a bit erotic.

Sebastian lifted his brow at her in question in the mirror. "May I?" he asked, then lowered his head, and continued to kiss her neck. He turned her slightly and went even lower. His mouth pressed against the delicate flesh of her breast.

"Ohm," she sucked in her breath when his mouth closed over her nipple... her knees about to give out.

"You taste so damn sweet," he breathed, pushing down her dress. Lifting his hands, he covered each one, gliding his fingers across the delicate flesh, cupping, squeezing, and toying.

She gasped in pleasure.

He lifted his head, his eyes smoldered in the dim light. He spun her around to face him fully, and took possession of her lips. The tips of his fingers slid slowly down her sides, pushing her gown even lower.

Katherine didn't protest, no, she let the dress go. The fabric swished down between them, pooling at their feet. Lifting her hands, she threaded them through the dampened ends of his hair, kissing him back. His tongue was warm... skilled... he slid his mouth lower to her neck.

"My God, you are so beautiful," he murmured, his warm breath fanning out across her naked flesh, making her shiver in delight.

She was lost.

Sebastian yanked his shirt from his trousers, undoing the last buttons and pressed in, skin to skin. He ran his hands over the curve of her buttocks, kneading them. He was lost in the moment, slipping back quickly to where they left off in the library earlier. Lowering his hand, he slid it down between her thighs.

"I want you... now," he breathed. He throbbed to be inside of her, he was so close... again. He pressed his forehead against hers and then seized her mouth with his own, delving his tongue inside, tasting her sweetness. "...Marguerite..." he murmured hungrily into her mouth and slid his free hand up her inner thigh, making her squirm.

Belatedly, her brain registered what he said, Marguerite... not Katherine! She tensed, mortified—devastated. She felt like someone had just ripped her freaking heart from her body and tossed it carelessly to the ground. It had the same effect as a bucket of freezing water would have had, if tossed directly upon her. Freezing her, humiliating her, she was such a fool. He thought she was Marguerite, and even worse, she had an awful feeling that he had already done this with her.

Katherine was envious of Marguerite and filled with revulsion at her own foolishness. Of course, he thought she was Marguerite. She now knew Marguerite was a better copy of her own self and had better clothes. She saw that much in the vision. She wanted to scream at him, at herself, for her stupidity and the dumb, idiotic legend.

"I can't..." Pressing her hands against his chest, she pushed him away until she could disentangle herself from his embrace and then yanked the thin chemise gown back over her breasts. Tears filled her eyes, making her vision blurry. Her chest tightened until she couldn't breathe.

Sebastian didn't move. Not an inch. His eyes searching hers in confusion, his body feeling abandoned and aroused at the same time—his stormy gray eyes blazing molten fire.

Katherine covered her mouth to stifle a sob that threatened to escape, her eyes filling with angry, humiliating tears. Her resolve faltered as his eyes burned into her own. She couldn't stand it a minute longer—she hated herself. Why? Why couldn't she be more like Janice? She wouldn't care if he thought she was someone else. Or would she?

Yes, even Janice would have cared that much.

Katherine had to get away before she lost it completely.

"I'm sorry," she tossed out a lame apology in his general direction and made a run for the bathroom. She slammed the door and locked it, resting her forehead against the wood.

"Stupid... Stupid... Stupid!" she repeated over and over, bumping her forehead against the wood, letting the tears finally fall.

Sebastian was dumbfounded. He had no idea what had just happened. What he did feel, was absolute perfection. His mind could not have conjured a more seductive scene. He was so close... again. Then he was literally abandoned. He knew she felt it as well, or did she? Did she remember her heart belonged to another?

Angrily, he raked his hands through his hair and then rubbed them over his face. He couldn't believe his own stupidity. How could he have foolishly believed it was over between her and the rakehell she had left him for?

He turned and crossed the room and lifted the bottle from the table, pausing. He looked at the closed door that separated them from one another. It was a silly door, that was no more than ten feet from him and yet, it could have been a continent, there was suddenly so much space between them both. He strode purposefully to the door and pressed his head against the wood, lifting his hand in the air to knock on the same door she had literally shut herself away from him behind.

His hand hovered over the wood, he wanted to see if she was all right and then... he couldn't. He couldn't do it. Instead, he forced himself to leave before he did something reprehensible, like beg her to think of him and forget the scoundrel that abandoned her.

No, he would not let her see his vulnerability, not her, not anyone.

He was an idiot.

He strode out of her chamber without a backward glance, his body still aching for release... he was tempted to venture outside and toss himself into the nearest snow bank to cool his raging arousal.

He breathed out a frustrated expletive, "Bloody Hell!"

ONCE A THIEF ALWAYS A THIEF

Hawthorne Manor

JUDITH held her skirts in one hand as she ran through the corridors of Hawthorne Manor, only stopping long enough to grab anything of value she saw and stuff it in her ever-growing satchel. The bag thumped loudly on the stairs as she dragged it down to the foyer. She leaned on the hall table to catch her breath, looking about for anything else that may be light enough to carry.

"Think, Judith!" she yelled out to the empty room, her voice echoing eerily through the halls.

She turned and looked toward the library, catching a glimpse of Isabelle and her creepy brother's portrait in the study. He was not unattractive. Actually, he was quite the opposite, but something was unsettling about the way he looked... something about what the artist had captured in his expression. Well, it did nothing for Judith besides give her the creeps. She turned away, but not before she noticed Isabelle was wearing her jewels in the portrait.

"Ha! Ha! Isabelle," she laughed, filled with giddy excitement. Not wasting another moment, she lifted her skirts high above her ankles again and took off up the curving staircase. She knew she would have to be quick if she was to get the hell out of here before Devlin returned. He was not someone she would wait for again. She may have had some feelings for the man, but after flattening her into the wall and raging at her like a lunatic... well... she didn't sign on for that type of abuse.

He was a bloody idiot and at the rate he was going he was surely going to have his neck stretched while his body danced for the hangman. She may have shared many things with Devlin, but she wasn't going to share his fate, served up from his own stupidity. Certainly not. She was a survivor and knew when to get when the getting was good. How else could she have survived this long, if she had not left when it was prudent?

Luckily, she had the wherewithal to make some emergency arrangements if the little game Devlin and she were playing went awry. She only wished she had more time to collect the items she needed so she could leave with a little less haste.

"Well, there is nothing to be done about that now," she sighed and stuffed the last pieces of jewelry into the drawstring bag. Turning, she was just about to leave the room but stopped. She walked back across the room to the armoire and opened it up. She pulled out Isabelle's favorite ermine-lined, dark green cloak with the hood and matching muff. She rubbed the soft fur against her face and hugged the items closely against her body.

They would certainly keep her warm on a night such as this. An image of Isabelle popped into her mind—she tried to force it away, but it lingered.

"I am not going to feel bad for taking these, Isabelle," she yelled out to the empty room, her voice catching on itself. "Yo... uu... You... shouldn't have been so stingy when I asked for one... Isabelle. But nooo, couldn't get me one, could you?" she asked the empty air. She sighed and snuggled the fine material closer to her body as she made her descent to the foyer.

Once at the bottom, she took one last look around, reminiscing for a moment. Oh, she and Devlin, they did have some good times here. Images of Devlin flitted through her mind. His penetrating gaze, his easy laughter, his longevity in the bedchamber. Oh, he knew how to pleasure a woman. He had proven he was rather good in bed, and Judith had her fair share of bedmates to compare him to. Yes, her Devlin was definitely at the top of the list. "What a damn shame."

"Oh well, I guess it is back to square one." She looked down at the satchel on the floor, filled to bursting, and knew she should leave it. She would travel faster without it, but as always with Judith, her insatiable greed won out. She put on the cloak and grabbed the handles of the heavy satchel anyway. Not looking back, she dragged it and her other newly acquired possessions out the door of Hawthorne Manor and into the snow- filled night.

REGRET LEAVES A BITTER TASTE

Ravenhurst

THE bathroom door creaked open. Katherine stuck her head out and looked around. The room was empty. She wasn't sure what she expected, for obviously Sebastian wouldn't still be here, especially after the way she left him. But in her own defense, what was she supposed to do? Sleep with him after he called her another girl's name. Of course, it wasn't his fault, really.

She tried not to think about what could have been... or how good it probably would have been. Hanging her head, she went over to the bureau, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a fresh gown. It was another pretty thing. All white and ruffled, with flounces at the hemline. It had darling mint-green leaves embroidered down the neckline and on the cuffs. The robe was decorated much the same. It was a sweet ensemble. She pulled it quickly over her head, covering her body completely in an expanse of white, frothy fabric. She walked over to the mirror and made a face. A stranger with overly bright eyes stared back at her. She lifted her hand and touched her lips, reddened from Sebastian's kisses.

She looked wide-eyed, innocent, and naughty all at the same time. She felt sure this was how girls enticed the lords of the estate. Of course, she wouldn't have minded enticing one particular lord.

Oh, how she wished he didn't think she were another. Leaning forward, she fixed a piece of her hair. wondering how she would feel tomorrow if she decided to throw caution to the wind and search him out anyway. He did not even know her name but that in itself was freeing... in a way? There were no rules in this past. There was no one to judge her... and the more Katherine thought about it, the more she talked herself into thinking she may have been a bit too hasty in her original decision.

Perhaps she shouldn't have ended the evening with him. What would it have been like? How would it feel to have him make love to her? She sighed, getting warm and bothered all over again. She placed her cool palms against her flushed face.

Seriously, who would she prefer to be with for the first time? One of her exes? Or a gorgeous man in the past who just left her borrowed room after stealing her breath with his kisses and making her body tingle all over?

She had kissed plenty of toads. Not one of them had ever made her feel the way he did.

She wasn't a child.

No. She was an adult and she was perfectly capable of making her own choices when it came to rolling around in bed. There was no one to judge. Why not?

"Yes... why not, indeed?"

With her new resolve, she grabbed the handle of the door and opened it up. "Well there is no time like the present or in my case... the past." A burst of giddy laughter erupted from her chest as she braced herself to seek Sebastian out for a redo.

A burst of frigid air suddenly poured against her back. It felt like someone had just opened up a window behind her. This of course didn't make any sense. She was headed out the door and the breeze was blowing against her back from inside. And she knew she didn't open up any damn windows.

It felt like she was standing outside in the snow, in a freezer.

It was that cold.

Reflexively, she stepped back. The cold air making her second-guess her decision. Maybe she was being too hasty. Maybe she should find the source of the breeze first and think about throwing caution to the wind a bit longer. Once the deed was done, there was no going back. So she had better be sure.

Methodically, Katherine walked around the room trying to locate where the breeze was coming from. And of course, she ended up right in front of the "you're giving me one hell of a creepy feeling" armoire. Bending down, she looked underneath. It had carved gargoyle talons gripping clear orbs... were those wheels?

"Oh great... perfect..." More gargoyle crap was just what she needed. She stood back up, crossed her arms, and stared at the huge piece of furniture.

It was odd.

She could have sworn it was over to the left more, closer to the mirror. It took her a moment more to figure out what was different about it... it was crooked.

She pushed against the doors.

The armoire moved easily and slammed back against the wall.

"What the hell?"

Turns out it was just like the door to the library... it looked heavy, but it really wasn't. Her hand shook as she reached out and pulled the armoire away from the wall.

"I am an idiot," she told herself, but ended up looking behind it anyway.

"Shit!" She immediately leaned back away from the big hole, freaking out. What really freaked her out was a sudden temptation to investigate. "OH, come on! When did I become a detective?" Of course, she'd seen enough scary movies to know you never, ever, go investigating alone. Seriously, who in the hell did she think she was... Sherlock Holmes or Nancy 'freaking' Drew?

"Please. I am neither." Katherine was a chicken, as in Kentucky Fried. It was black as pitch behind the armoire and so cold her breath turned white in front of her. She held onto the wall and peered into the opening, calling out, "Is anyone there?"

JUSTICE MAKES A CRUEL BEDFELLOW

Somewhere near Ravenhurst

THE wind tore at Devlin, whipping his greatcoat back. He pulled the brim of his hat lower as he rode his horse further into the storm. The snow was falling in earnest now, making it almost impossible to see. He tucked his chin down into his collar and lightly chuckled aloud at the irony of it all.

He was actually lying to the staff when he said a blizzard was approaching. Now he was out in the middle of one. He came upon a lone tree in the middle of the field and halted his mount under the heavy canopy of snow-laden limbs to get his bearings.

The trail he was following had disappeared under another fresh blanket of snow. Reaching into one of the saddlebags, he pulled out the bottle of brandy he took when he left, and dismounted.

Leaning back against the tree, he took a hefty swig of the fiery liquid and held it in his mouth before finally letting it slide down his throat to warm his innards. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he looked across the horizon.

He did not even feel the cold any longer.

Everything suddenly seemed so useless.

What a pity. He had it all so neatly tied up, too, but he let himself become too arrogant and self-assured. Truly, he knew better than to entrust Judith with anything, or anyone, for that matter.

Leaving her with the care of Isabelle had been his second mistake. The first was getting involved with her in the first place. She was an idiot.

Shaking his head, he took another long pull on the bottle, repeating his earlier ritual. No, Devlin had been a complete fool and let his more basic desires control his better judgment, and to what end? Didn't his mother fall into the same trap? She trusted a titled gentleman, hoping he would pull her from the drudgery she had lived in every day, and what did that get her? Nothing, but a life worse than the one she already had. She had foolishly entrusted him with all her wealth and money, and soon became nothing more than a street whore, just like Judith. Of course, his mother did what she could to care for him.

Unfortunately, the only way she found to make a life for herself was to lift her skirts for coin, while waiting in vain for his father to return. She did her best, he supposed. She schooled him to be a gentleman of means, which, she assured him, was his birthright, although he was never as convinced as she was. She had dressed him in finery and had made sure he was educated. She told him he was their equal, the upper class, never once admitting to herself or him that he was no better than the very people they both disdained. She told him repeatedly that his father was a very powerful man and would someday come for them.

But alas, that never happened. He was sure he would soon meet his own mother's fate until the auspicious day he met Isabelle. She was older by at least two decades, but she was attractive and had a way with men, especially younger ones. She so loved younger men. She did not care a whit that he had no money of his own, for she had enough for them both, or so she often told Devlin in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

She was his one-way ticket out of hell. She was even married once and widowed quickly. Devlin never knew what malady took her first husband, and he really didn't care, especially since his demise left her a very wealthy woman.

As an eccentric, she had little use for the rules of society. She openly flaunted many of her younger lovers in front of the Ton, an elite group of her wealthy peers, the upper crust. She would pull him aside at balls and whisper about the harpies, as she called them, but they were really a group of her so-called friends. She would laugh and tell Devlin they were turning green with envy since she was able to bed her choice of virile partners, while they had to bed down with old doddering fools.

Devlin was no fool. He knew she used him in her own way to rebuff the standards society had placed upon her. He couldn't complain, for she was a skilled lover.

He laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all.

Of course, she was skilled—she had a lot of practice. But that never really mattered to him. She was a means to an end, and wealth was what he so readily sought.

They were quite a pair, the two of them, and truthfully, he never minded that she was older for a moment. He was even starting to become quite fond of her and their arrangement. Well, he was, until he met Marguerite, who stole his breath from his chest the very moment he laid eyes on her. She was a beauty beyond compare and in turn, he was smitten at once.

Of course, Isabelle was no fool. She sensed a change in him after he met Marguerite. Isabelle simply could not satisfy Devlin as she once had, and in turn quickly arranged a betrothal between Marguerite and her nephew, Sebastian. It may not have been so bad but Isabelle was not one to let sleeping dogs lie. No, she rubbed salt in the open wound of his heart and constantly droned on and on about what a wonderful man Sebastian had become, and continually reminded Devlin that he, Sebastian, was an earl and had a vast amount of money and lands, and blah, blah, blah.

It made Devlin sick every time he thought about that blasted do-gooder Sebastian, touching any part of Marguerite. He could never appreciate her the way Devlin did. Why was Sebastian allowed to fill his heart's desire, and he, Devlin, was not? It made him ill to think too much about it.

Snorting in disgust, he took another long pull from the bottle. Mayhap that was the actual start of his undoing. Had he not reached beyond his means, or been satisfied with the cards dealt him, perhaps everything would have turned out differently. His life was not so bad, after all. Was it not enough that he had, not one, but two women, begging for his ministrations in bed? Or that he had all the money available to spend that he could ever want or need, if only he asked Isabelle nicely? She was not tight with her purse strings. Actually, she was quite the opposite. She purchased his clothing, bought him the finest horseflesh, and had a carriage made just for him.

He was in the perfect relationship, but he found he wanted more. Was that the way of it? He wondered. Even if he did have Marguerite, would he someday look at her while thinking to himself she was not enough, either?

Mayhap that was why he thought Judith was different. Was he trying in his own way to save her from the same fate as his mother? Could saving Judith from the streets somehow make amends for not saving his mother? He often hoped she could fill the void he found within himself, but she was only a short reprieve as well.

It all seemed so useless at times.

And even now, he no longer knew what drove him to where he found himself. He had everything, but it was still not enough. Now he was close to losing everything he had worked so hard to gain. With Isabelle free, she could have made it to Ravenhurst by now. It was only a short ride away.

He took a heavy breath.

Yes, it would only be a matter of time before he found himself with nothing more than he started with, except this time, he would be sent to the gallows, and that place was so much worse. That realization made him laugh out loud. The sound of his laughter was bitter and hollow. He shook his head and took another pull from the bottle.

How did he not see before?

♦

Judith burrowed her face deeper into the folds of Isabelle's cloak as the horse she took from the stables picked its way through the ever-deepening snow. She was a friendly, docile horse, and they were making good time until the blasted snow started falling in earnest again, making the beast unsure of her whereabouts. Somehow, she got turned around and now had no idea where she was.

"Damn you Devlin," she chattered.

At least Isabelle was good for something. Her cloak kept Judith pretty warm, considering. She amended her previous thought quickly—Isabelle's cloak was good for something, not Isabelle, never Isabelle—she was a mean old bat.

Lulled by the rocking motion of the horse, her thoughts strayed to Devlin. Being astride the horse reminded her of how much she would miss his insatiable prowess in bed. He really did know how to please a woman.

So lost in her thoughts, Judith didn't realize the terrain had become uneven.

The mare stumbled.

Judith pitched forward. She pulled back, regaining her seat. Turning in her seat, she checked on her bag and gasped in horror. The satchel filled with what would turn into her ticket out of this place was sliding off the back of the horse.

Wrenching her body around, she quickly grabbed the handles before it slipped off the back of the horse.

Using every bit of her strength, she struggled to pull the bag back up on the horse. She was able to secure it once again.

So pleased with her accomplishment, she let out a whoop of laughter.

Startled from the sound, the horse reared.

"Bloody Hell!" Judith yelled out and yanked hard on the reins, making the horse dance backwards.

A sharp branch jutted out and cut into the flank of the horse, making the horse buck.

Judith lost her seat completely and flew forward over the neck of the horse, landing face first. The heavy satchel followed, tumbling to the ground, clattering loudly, spurring the horse to take off in a flurry of fur and snow.

Judith groaned and rolled over onto her back. Snow mixed with sleet pelted her in the face. Crawling to her feet, she stood and pulled the hood back up. Wiping the wetness from her face, she tried to get her bearings and see where her horse went.

The wind whipped her cloak, pulling her this way and that. Leaning forward, she grabbed the handles and tried to pick up her satchel. She pulled and pulled, but it was simply too heavy. Trying again, she used both hands. The bag slid on top of the snow as she pulled. The silver made a loud clanking sound as she tried to follow the trail left by her frightened horse.

♦

The invisible noose was tightening on his neck and Devlin was losing all hope of ever finding Isabelle in time. He lingered under the tree, disheartened, drinking every bit of the brandy he took from Hawthorne. Obviously, he would not be indulging in something this fine ever again, so he saw no reason not to partake fully now. Every drink he took burned a path down his gullet.

It felt good.

At least he could still feel something. He could not believe his brilliant plan was crashing down around him, and for what? What had he gained? Nothing, that's what, and now he was at his wits' end. "Where the hell did she go?"

Draining the last of the bottle, he walked over to his horse and put it back into his saddlebag. Reaching out, he balanced himself on the side of his horse, unsteady on his feet. It didn't matter. What little hope he garnered was disappearing with every moment that passed. He climbed up on his horse.

A crash sounded, echoing in the darkness.

The saddle made a creaking sound when he leaned forward. Thick flakes of snow drifted slowly to the ground. In the distance, he could see a shape, no, a person, moving slowly through the drifting snow. "Could it be?" His pulse picked up. Maneuvering his horse out from under the shelter of the tree, he called out in the darkness, "Isabelle!"

Judith froze. Good Lord, did someone just yell Isabelle? No, it couldn't be... her body filled with dread. Her shoulders slumped. She knew who it was... Devlin. She didn't think he would be too happy to see her, especially since he would know she was leaving him. It would be impossible not to notice with most of Hawthorne's valuables shoved in the satchel at her feet. She really had only one choice... run.

She took off across the field, the satchel quickly forgotten. Snow kicked up in her wake as she ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

Devlin was not to be thwarted. Not now, not with the balance of his own freedom hanging loosely by a thread. He dismounted quickly and chased after his quarry.

Judith ran onward through the snow, which wasn't easy, especially in a gown. Her lungs burned, and her legs ached from running, but she kept going. She felt him closing in. She was so intent on getting away from Devlin, she did not realize where she was headed. The dark crevice of the ravine loomed in front of her.

Devlin slowed his pace and stopped, trying to catch his breath. He bent over, braced his hands on his thighs, and watched Isabelle run straight towards the ravine. In just a matter of moments, she would run right off the side. That would certainly be her fate if he did nothing to stop her. He battled an internal conflict. He could be quiet and let her seal her own fate, thereby saving himself or...

"Oh, Bloody Hell!" he swore. He couldn't do it, he couldn't let her die. He yelled, "STOP, DAMN YOU!"

Judith pulled up short, stopping on the very precipice of the ravine, still not seeing her doom that lay right before her. Slowly, she turned and looked directly at Devlin.

Devlin was stunned. Why was Judith in front of him? Dawning came slowly, but when it did, her motives were crystal clear.

"Judith, what in the hell are you doing?" His eyes lowered to her hand. She was holding a bag and not just any bag either. It was one of Isabelle's jewelry bags.

Judith balled up her fists, ready for a fight. "I am running from you, fool," she spat out in disgust.

The wind carried her words towards Devlin, ringing loud and clear. "FOOL?" A bark of laughter split the air. "My God, Judith, you think I am a fool?" he asked and then began to laugh harder, suddenly finding her words hysterical. He shook his head. "Judith you are a bloody idiot. Have you always been this stupid or is this some new proficiency that you have acquired and have finally managed to master it? If so, good work, you are doing one hell of a bang up job."

It took Judith a moment to catch the meaning behind his words. Her face flamed.

"ME, stupid?" she screamed with uncontrolled rage. "How dare you call me stupid? If it were not for me, you would have been forgotten long ago by that doddering old hag you so liked to bed. I saved you from utter monotony. At least I could pleasure you in ways we both know that old woman could never accomplish. And you thanked me how, Devlin?" she asked pointedly. "I'll tell you how. You turned on me... ME!" she screamed out the last, thumping her finger against her chest.

Devlin stood there absorbing every verbal blow she tossed his way and then responded, "Really. I think I may need some clarification on that subject Judith. Who exactly, turned on whom?"

She shook her head, not understanding what he was getting at.

"Oh, I see, you don't understand the question." He shook his head as if saying, see you are stupid. "What is in the bag, Judith?"

Judith's eyes rounded and she clutched the bag closer to her body. "It's mine. I deserve it."

Devlin studied her a moment. "You deserve it? Interesting choice of words, don't you think?" When she said nothing more he added, "I'll bite. Why do you think you deserve a bag full of jewels? That is what you have in the bag, correct? Isabelle's Jewels?"

When Judith didn't answer him directly he had his answer. Unbelievable, she was not only leaving him when he was in dire straits but also robbing him blind as well. He was beginning to see her with a new pair of eyes. "Judith, I asked you a question."

"Fine. Yes, they are her jewels," she said nastily. "Happy now?" She made sour face. "Consider them payment for services rendered."

"Judith, Judith, Judith..." he said while shaking his head back and forth. "I hate to tell you this, but there is no way anyone would pay that much money for your services. You aren't that good in bed."

She blustered and gasped in shock, her mouth dropping open stupidly. And then in an instant, her expression changed and she narrowed her eyes. "That is perfect Devlin, thank you. You think you are so much better? You are no better than me." She pulled the cloak closer to her body.

"Really, how's that Judith?" he had to ask.

"You let some doddering old hag have her way with you for coin. You are no better than I am, so I don't understand why you always pretend like you are. Your proficiency at gaining coin for your ministrations in bed astounds me as well, Devlin."

She took a breath. "Perhaps, you are right, I may not be as skilled of a lover as you, but you cannot fault me for that. You were trained by a Master. I was not."

"Judith, what in the hell are you talking about? What Master?" Devlin yelled out against the raging wind.

Judith swallowed hard, trying to keep her balance and screamed, very loud and clear, "Your mother!"

The wind died down as if someone turned a switch off.

Devlin felt the weight of her cruel words chill him to his core. He looked at her but did not see the girl in front of him now, but saw the one she was so long ago, when he met her. How could he have been so stupid to believe she actually cared for him?

Perhaps she was right, he was stupid. Stupid for believing someone may have cared for him in the first place.

"I misjudged you, Judith. I believe you may be right. I am stupid. Stupid for believing you were worth saving, when it is obvious you are not."

He turned to walk away but paused and looked back over his shoulder at her and said, "Oh by the way Judith, you are standing on the edge of a ravine. Pray tell, who is the stupid one now?" he asked lifting his brow mockingly, then turned on his heel, and began walking away again.

Judith peered over her shoulder.

He was right.

She was standing just a few short feet away from the mouth of the ravine. She scampered forward, watching Devlin stride away as though she were of no consequence. She was so hurt and angry that he could leave her, just like that. She screamed like a crazed lunatic, "DEVLIN!"

He did not turn.

She yelled even louder, splitting the air, "DEVLIN!"

Devlin heard her psychotic screams. He felt numb—he just didn't have the fight in him any longer, so he kept walking.

Judith seethed.

How could he walk away as if she were nothing... NOTHING? She could not stand the way she felt. She had nothing to fight with. She wished she had a gun to shoot him right in his cold-hearted back.

Without thinking, she threw her coveted bag of jewels at him.

The bag slammed into the back of his head.

Devlin staggered forward from the blow. His step faltered but he righted himself and kept right on walking.

Judith's whole body shuddered.

She gasped for breath.

What in the hell was she thinking? She needed those jewels. Of course, rage was controlling her emotions, not common sense.

But he did not even stop... he kept walking away... as if she was nothing... NOTHING!

She covered her mouth to stifle the sobs that were threatening to escape. Having used the only physical weapon she had left, she felt helpless, exposed.

Her whole body shook as she screamed in outrage. "You are a good-for-nothing wastrel! You'll never fit in. NEVER, do you hear me?" she screamed again, her sobs breaking her taunts into disjointed pieces. "You were nothing but Isabelle's bitch! You did her bidding just as you did your mother's!"

Devlin stopped abruptly.

A flash of anger surged through his veins.

That was twice now she made misuse of his mother.

He turned slowly around. Without taking his eyes from her face, he bent down and picked up the velvet purse. He pulled apart the golden braided cords and looked inside. A shimmering array of jewels lay in the bottom. He lifted his face to hers and pulled the cords closed. He smiled coldly at her and started to walk forward, tossing the bag up and down in his hand.

Judith's smile of satisfaction faded as soon as Devlin started to walk toward her. A cold wash of fear poured over her body. "Devlin... I... ah..." she stammered out and looked over her shoulder and took a step back.

Devlin stopped.

They both faced off at the edge of the ravine.

Time seemed to stand still as they stared at one another. He was ready for battle, until the futility of the situation came crashing down around him. What was the point? Conceding the fight, he gave her one, long, last look and then tossed the bag of jewels in her direction.

The bag landed just short of the edge of the ravine.

He took a breath and delivered his last comment with slow deliberation, "Go ahead and take the jewels, Judith. You may have them free and clear. Do not worry about me coming after you either, as I fear they will be all you will ever have."

And with that final statement, Devlin Renquist turned and strode away from Judith, walking a little taller and straighter than he had in a very long time.

Judith watched him walk away, words eluding her for the first time in her life. He did not care about the jewels? How was that possible... she didn't understand. Money is what they schemed for, connived for. This is what she, Judith, had tried to kill for. And yet after all this time he did not care. Not a whit. Did he ever? She had to wonder.

With shaking hands, she pulled the hood of the cloak back up over her head. She gazed over at the bag of jewels, making up her mind. Devlin might believe he turned over a new leaf and become a paragon, but he wasn't.

He was a dimwitted fool.

And even though he was stupid enough to leave the jewels behind, she was not.

She deserved them.

Greed got the best of Judith. It always did. And that greed gave her courage when she may not have had any.

She shuffled forward towards the edge of the ravine where the jewels were. Carefully she bent down in front of the big, black, gaping hole, and grabbed the jewels up.

Excitement overtaking caution, she moved too quickly and stepped on the edge of her cloak, making her pitch forward. She jerked back reflexively and tried to regain her balance, but the weight of the cloak combined with the snow was simply too heavy. Slowly she slid backward in the dark abyss of the ravine.

The last sight Judith Alexandra Beauchamp's eyes beheld was Devlin's silhouette walking away in the distance.

She really wished she had a gun.

IF WALLS COULD TALK

Ravenhurst

KATHERINE held tightly to the heavy metal fireplace poker in her hand. It was her weapon of choice if the need arose.

Suddenly, the wind that was gusting steadily through the hole in the wall stopped.

"Oh, crap!" Cold dread washed over her.

Reflexively, she took a step backward, away from the opening. But that wasn't going to help her find out if someone or something was coming. So she leaned forward, just a bit, listening intently. She was trying to hear if someone was climbing the stairs.

A bone chilling eerie silence was her reward.

Well, at least that answered one of the many questions swirling in her mind. Obviously, something was down there and whatever it was had stopped the air from coming up the stairs. Now, the better question was, who or what had stopped the air and how?

They were all good questions, but she wasn't too sure she wanted to find out any of the answers.

Maybe she should just call it a day and hide under the blankets of her borrowed bed until morning. Right. Then whoever was down in the hole would sneak their gross ass up the stairs and kill her while she slept.

Nope, not gonna happen.

Besides, how could she sleep when she knew there was a big ass hole in her wall? No, she was going to have to find out what was down there. The little voice in her mind taunted her... curiosity killed the cat.

"Oh good Lord! What would stop it from killing me?"

Katherine lifted the poker, feeling the heft in her hand and swung it in the air a few times like a baseball bat. Maybe she should give up being a detective and find Milford or the freakishly strong maid with the rag that tried to kill her earlier. If she got her in the room then at least she could shove her ass down the stairs and find out what was down there.

She groaned out loud.

No, unfortunately shoving the maid down the stairs was not a real option either.

Of course, she could always ask Sebastian.

"Oh, sure, sure, like he would be so happy to help me," she muttered, remembering the look on his face when she ran off in the middle of their heated moment together.

She sighed heavily, accepting her own shortcomings.

The truth of the matter was really simple. She was nothing but a big, ol' chicken. To emphasis the point, she leaned forward and lifted her arms, bending them at the elbows and flapped them a few times while making a bock-bock noise... just like the chicken she was.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she lowered her arms and rolled her eyes. "This place is getting to me."

No, it was probably better to fly solo on this.

Gathering what little courage she had left, she lifted the poker and walked in front of the wardrobe, her body tensed for attack.

"AH HA!" She yanked the doors open.

Imaginary crickets chirped in her mind. Nothing but an exorbitant amount of gowns and rows of shoes on the bottom greeted her. She set the poker on the floor, reached in the wardrobe and pulled out several pairs of shoes.

When she removed the first row of shoes, she had to go for another approach. The gowns were too heavy to push aside and there were too many to take down, so she opted for the dive in headfirst approach.

Holding her breath, she shoved her head into the middle of the gowns, and grabbed up as many shoes as she could without suffocating between crinoline, silk, and taffeta.

Pulling her head back out, she took a big breath, and quickly discarded each pair, tossing them over her shoulder.

It took three dives before she finally found what she was looking for. Leaning back, she examined the pair of sturdy walking boots. They were not nearly as nice as the other shoes but they would work better for what she had in mind....which was run like the dickens if a monster was down in that black hole.

Katherine stood and brushed her hands off.

A shiver of unease raced up her spine and then she shivered again from the coldness in the room.

She looked over at the fire.

It was almost out.

Pulling out the hem of her prissy child gown, with the adult transparency, she decided she better change her clothes as well as her shoes.

She looked back at the dresses crammed together in the armoire. It would take all night if she tried to look at them all, so she decided to try feeling the fabrics instead.

Running her fingers over each one until she found a gown that would at least keep her warm. She stopped when she found one that felt like flannel. Reaching inside, she pulled the gown and yanked it out.

It was a blue plaid.

"Go figure."

She didn't waste any time ditching the flouncy robe and gown, and then yanked the plaid gown over her head and buttoned it up the front.

She felt much warmer immediately.

To be on the safe side, she went to the bottom of the bureau and pulled out one of the heavier shawls. This one looked more like a blanket. A very scratchy, smelly, horse blanket, but at least it was warm.

In the bottom of the drawer, the amulet was lying amidst the other shawls. "Oh hell."

She reached in, lifted it out, and hooked it around her neck.

This time, the clasp opened easily, just like the first time she put it on. Feeling the weight hanging on her chest, she felt much better.

If somehow she ended up somewhere where she didn't want to be, maybe she could switch places with the real Marguerite. That way she would get to dress to the nines in some fancy apartment in the future.

She snorted in derision.

"Yeah, like that would happen."

If the truth of the matter were told, she really had no idea what would happen, but it was a chance she was ready to take. She just hoped she didn't regret her decision.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she threw caution to the wind and grabbed up the little floral porcelain candleholder off the mantle and lit it in the dying flames of the fire and then walked back across the room.

"I hope I am not going to regret this."

She took a breath and squeezed behind the armoire.

It was black as pitch.

Lifting the candle away from her body to light the way, the flame fluttered, revealing a steep set of stairs. With each step she took down the steep incline of stairs, she questioned her sanity.

Tentatively she extended her foot and tapped each step with the toe of her shoe, making sure the stair was secure.

She didn't want to inadvertently fall into a hole... or worse... like awaken the big nasty creature lurking down in the shadows, waiting to devour its next hapless victim...

CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT

Ravenhurst

MILFORD walked briskly through the shadowed corridor toward Marguerite's old chamber. Lifting his hand, he took a breath and knocked on the door.

No answer.

He tried again. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Still no answer.

Reaching down, he turned the handle. At least the door was unlocked. He pulled it open and quickly ducked inside the room and quietly shut the door behind him. He hoped Katherine was still awake. Silently, he walked to the bed and stopped abruptly. It was empty and still made.

A feeling of dread gathered in the pit of his stomach. He looked to his right, towards the water closet. The door was wide open. He crossed the room and looked inside.

It was also empty.

When he turned back around, he noticed all the shoes scattered over the floor.

Katherine was gone.

He had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling.

"Where did you go?"

He walked over to the bureau and looked through the drawers. With shaking hands, he lifted out the box and opened it up. The amulet was gone as well.

He closed his eyes and swallowed past the lump in his throat. Please don't be down there... with him.

Glancing warily at the wardrobe, his body shuddered involuntarily.

Now what was he to do? Leave her to her own devices? And where would that lead Marguerite? And what would he do? Would he tell her?

If Katherine knew what she could do with the help of the amulet, would she still go through with what had been planned so long ago?

He let out a long weary sigh and ran his hands over his face.

Well, if that happened it would be a moot point anyway. Katherine was the only person who could direct their fates now, even as twisted as they may become, and she was also the only one who could untwist those same fates.

He walked over to the door and glanced once again toward the wardrobe. With a heavy heart, he opened the door and slipped out into the shadowy corridor, making his way back to his own room.

Once inside he shut the door and crossed the room. A lone chair stood in front of the fireplace. There was a small table at its side.

He walked over and sat down heavily in the chair, dropping his head into his hands as the full weight of the burden he created so many centuries before settled fully upon him, dragging memories from his past to the forefront of his mind.

MERLIN'S SECRET ROOM♦KING ARTHUR'S REALM

"So my little friend, I see you have made your way back to me. Are you in need of my assistance yet again?" he asked, his deep voice laced with a chilling edge as he spoke.

He turned then, lifting a questioning brow at the boy standing in the doorway. "Ah wait, you went further the last time, did you not, to her, and now you are back. Did my warnings not predict this outcome?" He took a step forward then paused.

"Tell me, did all go the way you wished?" He turned, his icy gaze on the boy, waiting.

"I do not know," young Milford said, his words barely audible. His small frame quaked in the doorway to his room.

"I warned you not to trust her. She is a deceptive girl. She lets envy and jealousy get in the way of what is right and wrong. He does not even want her. He never did, and yet, she will not relinquish her hold, even though it is not her hold to have." His words rushed from his mouth, revealing the truth as he spoke, but he could not lose the hope he had for her, even though he knew it was futile.

"What will happen to the girl?" young Milford asked, wringing his hands.

"The girl, she is gone," he said simply.

"She can not be gone. He is going madder as each day passes." Milford's body began to tremble even more than moments before. "I have to find her. There is no other option. Where do you think she went?" he asked, hoping he would give him the answer he needed.

"Think you she would magically appear after the lengths you went to, to rid the Earth of her human existence?" he asked. He shook his head. "Tsk. Tsk."

Young Milford took a step forward, pleading. "I did not realize what I was doing. My ear was bent to the ranting of an evil, vile creature," he defended himself even though he knew deep down it was all his fault.

"And yet when I warned you, you chose not to heed my warning." Merlin turned away, dragging his fingers across the rough-hewn surface of his worktable. He grabbed a few herbs and tossed them into the kettle hanging over a pile of hot coals in the hearth. The concoction hissed and bubbled, spluttering white puffs of smoke into the air. He walked casually away, brushing his hands off as he strode towards the door.

"Please, wait," young Milford begged, a sob tearing from his throat.

Tears began to fill his eyes, stealing his sight. He was desperate. He needed to fix what he had done.

"Why should I?" he asked frankly, his commanding voice taking on an even sharper edge.

"Because I need you to help me. You are the only one powerful enough."

"Ah, now it is my power you seek?" he inquired darkly.

"I came to you before, but you turned me down," he said defensively.

"And look! Here you are, my little, silly friend." He swept his arm to the room at large. "You have returned to try to fix something that should have never come to pass in the first place." He crossed his arms and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "And now you want my help?"

"Yes, yes, I do. I am begging you to help me, please."

"What are you willing to sacrifice?" he asked.

"Sacrifice...? Anything, anything at all. I will go to any lengths to fix what I have done."

"So be it. It will be done," he said simply with a flick of his wrist, turning back towards the door.

"How long...?" young Milford asked, his lip quivering as tears streamed down his pale, dirty face.

"However long it takes."

"That is not good enough. I can not live forever," he argued desperately.

"Oh, my friend, in this instance, you can, and will. At least until your job is finished, even if it takes an eternity."

"Why can't you simply bring her back?" he probed, not fully understanding.

"It is not that simple."

"But you are so powerful," young Milford persisted.

He laughed at that, it had a bittersweet edge to it. "My foolish, little friend, even I am not that powerful."

♦

Milford's mind returned to the present.

A familiar sadness welled inside of his chest as a tear slipped from his eye.

He dashed it away. He could not, would not, fail. He rose from the chair, crossed the room and opened the door.

He knew what he needed to do.

OUT OF SIGHT DOES NOT = OUT OF MIND

Ravenhurst

SEBASTIAN was back in the library, staring at the same stack of papers. Instead of taking care of them, he was contemplating the hand he was dealt. What in damnation could he do? There was something altogether unsettling about Marguerite's demeanor. She seemed so changed. It was almost as if she were another person altogether.

He shook his head, wondering if the brandy he drank earlier was finally taking hold of his senses and making him addlepated.

He felt out of sorts, unsettled.

What in the hell was the matter with him?

Since when did some chit evoke this kind of reaction in him? No woman ever had this effect on him. He needed to get out of the house. He needed to be alone for a while.

He laughed and ran his hand over his face. "What a ludicrous statement."

It would take days to run into someone in this estate if you chose not to. Regardless, he kept feeling a pull towards the upper floors. Maybe he should just check on her, make sure nothing was amiss.

He stood and walked halfway across the room before stopping himself. Make sure nothing was amiss.

"Bloody Hell!" he swore to the empty room.

She was the one who left him standing in the middle of the room, so close, but so far away, again.

His pride balked. She had her chance, but she turned him down. That realization stung more than he wanted to admit.

STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES

Ravenhurst

KATHERINE was on the verge of putting her borrowed boots to good use and run back up the stairs. What in the hell had she been thinking?

Oh, she knew what she was thinking. She had placed some kind of bent misconception on herself and made herself believe she was some kind of super detective. A detective, she was not.

The further down she went, the air became even more chilled. The shawl kept slipping and she pulled it back on her shoulders.

Spiders and other nasty crawling things bounded away from the flickering candlelight. At least the light from above illuminated the stairwell a little.

As if on cue, the light from above disappeared completely as the secret door at the top of the stairs clicked shut.

She yelped and almost blew out the damn candle.

She was so scared her teeth started to chatter. Clack, clack, clack, the sound of her teeth chattering overrode the pounding of her heart.

Every bit of her bravado from earlier was slipping steadily away. "Oh, why did I come down these damn stairs?" She never did this crap when she was younger. When she heard strange noises, she kept her ass in bed, covering her head with blankets until the morning came.

Now she was stuck.

Of course, she did not think to stick something in the crack to keep the door from shutting.

"Stupid!" She was just asking for something bad to happen to her.

An eerie sense of déjà vu crept over her body.

She froze mid-step—trying to recall what was hovering just out of her grasp. She wanted to bolt back up the stairs, her mind screaming again... run while you can.

Literally forcing herself to take another step, Katherine lifted her foot off the stair and gingerly placed it on the next step. Her foot skidded forward, twisting slightly to the side. She tried to lift her foot back up, but was off balance and the full weight of her body crushed down on whatever it was—it crunched loudly.

"Oh God!" She had a terrible feeling she just rendered some poor mouse lifeless in a matter of seconds from the weight of her body, the tiny bones crushed underfoot. She got her balance and holding the candle with one hand, she braced her other hand on the wall. She bit back sob of remorse and shook off whatever was stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

Thump... thump... thump... it rolled.

"Oh, good Lord!" That was all she needed... a rolling carcass. She covered her mouth, trying not to gag. She refused to throw up, and took another step. She had two more and she would be at the bottom.

Once she made it down the other two stairs, she walked forward in the darkness and came upon a huge door.

Holding her breath, she tried to turn the handle.

It was locked.

A faint light was coming from underneath the door. She leaned down and tried to see under it. She couldn't get close enough, with the stair behind her and she refused to get on the floor. The wall felt disgusting enough.

Now what was she supposed to do?

She set the candle down and the light flickered across the floor onto broken bits of pottery. Moving closer, she noticed a small scroll of paper lying in the midst of the pieces. Reaching down, she lifted the paper and held it in front of the candle. There was a red wax seal. Was that a Raven?

She broke the seal and tried to read the message but the light was too poor, plus the paper kept rolling back up as fast as she unrolled it.

A shuffling noise came from the other side of the door. She freaked. Leaving the candle and her shawl on the stairs, she finally put her borrowed boots to good use.

She turned around and ran her right back up the stairs, hoping the damn door wasn't locked.

IN BETWEEN THERE AND NOW

He waited behind the closed door. He knew it was locked, but it did not stop him from walking forward when he heard her outside. He could see her in his mind's eye, her long hair flowing forward as she reached for the scroll on the floor. So she found it.

He cocked his head to the side, listening. She was running up the stairs to the door. He could hear her heart pounding frantically as she searched for a way out. He smiled to himself and flicked his wrist slightly in the air.

The door in front of her opened.

She fell through it.

"I'm good!" she said jumping up.

Now she was singing... and... dancing. He shook his head. Yes. She was an odd one.

He blinked and the image of her faded from his mind.

♦

Another door creaked open from across the room.

He didn't bother turning. He had been expecting him, after all. "I see you have come once again. To what do I owe this visit?" he asked even though he already knew what his visitor would say.

"She is not there yet."

"Oh I know," he said absently as he walked over to the shelves lined with ancient tomes. He pulled one out and looked at it briefly; then he pushed it back up on the shelf and pulled another out. He ran his long fingers over the top, feeling the hand-molded leather ripple under his skin.

He placed it gently on the rough-hewn worktable and opened it up. Light skittered across the lettering on the pages, illuminating the words he sought.

"So what should I do?"

"Wait," he said absently as he read.

"But what if she interferes?"

He lifted light gray eyes up and looked off in the distance, seeing a place that was not in the room, a time they were not in at present. His eyes focused back on the here and now. "Hmm, that's interesting. I guess we will not know until it happens."

"How can you be so calm about this? Everything hangs in the balance."

"What would be the point in worrying? It will turn out the way it was destined to."

"Are you sure?"

"Well... no, I am not sure. Some things need to be left to chance." He glanced back at the pages, and the words blurred before his eyes.

"Fate."

"What?" he said, trying to focus his eyes, but the words kept eluding him, just as she had done.

"Some things must be left to fate, not chance."

"Oh, right... Fate," he said absently.

"I will leave you to your work then. I thought you should know." He walked back out the way he came.

"I already knew," he said, barely audible even to his own ears. The door closed, taking the light from the room once more. He settled back into the chair behind him, propping his elbows up and rested his chin on his fingertips.

His body tingled.

It would seem the end was near, or was it another beginning.

Yes, another beginning was better.

He chuckled lightly.

Oh, what he would give to see her face when she realizes her little plan went awry!

Would she try again?

Images of the girl that tormented his soul eclipsed his mind. She was so unattainable. The mere sight of her stole his breath. Feeling the familiar tightening in his chest, he shook the image of her lovely face from his mind and let out a heavy sigh.

It didn't matter, she could try, but she would fail. Of that, he was certain.

This time he would change fate, or be damned trying.

SALVATION

Radcliff Manor

GRAYSON Radcliff was an imposing man with a scar that started at his brow and continued down the side of his face, until it just barely touched the corner of his mouth. He was a loner by society's standards, but they accepted him as they did anyone with a title in what they viewed as an elitist group.

He knew they held him in disdain, but not one of the fools would ever dare give him the cut directly. Invitations piled up on the silver salver in the hall, requesting his attendance at long weekend parties and many soirees. They, as a group, did not like him, but that did not stop them from shoving their simpering daughters in his face with high hopes that one of them might end up wearing the shoes of a duchess. He wanted no part of their daughters and no part of marriage. Well, if he were to be honest, that had been the case, until recently...

EARLIER IN THE DAY ♦ LONDON TOWNHOUSE

Grayson climbed the stairs to the Townhouse he had rented for his Mistress.

A few flurries of snow had already started to fall and he pulled the collar of his greatcoat up with one hand while holding a bundle of flowers in the other.

Normally he didn't bother with such frivolities but it was a special day and he wanted to surprise her. He wasn't supposed to arrive until the following day.

Turns out, he was the one who had gotten a surprise. When he walked in... Bliss was bent over a table while another titled lord (one he could not stand) slammed into her repeatedly from behind. She was wearing the peignoir he had given her, a light green, frothy confection. Her cries of pleasure filled the room as she neared climax.

Grayson stood there... watching. Her face flushed, her eyes closed in pleasure, her breasts swinging back and forth against the hard surface of the table.

It was obvious she was enjoying herself immensely. He tried to remember if she had ever reacted to his lovemaking with as much enthusiasm.

He thought not.

She screamed out once more with her intense climax as her gaze caught his. Her expression of pleasure evaporated and was replaced by a look of pain as she watched her lover and protector walk from the room and out of her life forever.

♦

Grayson's mind came back to the present.

Things had a way of turning out exactly as fate planned, he supposed. If his mistress had not betrayed him with that pathetic popinjay, he would not have left London when he did and his houseguest would surely have met a far worse fate than the one she had now. With his arms laden with food, he walked slowly back to his room. The broth sloshed over the rim of the bowl onto the bread that he had prepared. His staff was not due back until the storm passed.

He was all alone with his winter princess and found he did not mind his current predicament, not one bit.

SECOND THOUGHTS

Ravenhurst

DEVLIN made it to Ravenhurst, but was not sure why he went there. He should have been on a ship to a faraway place by now, but an unforeseen force pulled him back. He did not want to think about what or who was really behind his motives, not when he was about to make the final move to seal his fate.

Pausing, he looked heavenward, contemplating what his next move would be.

A loud bang sounded behind him.

He turned.

A woman flew right past him, her long flowing cloak trailing out like wings behind her. The hood slipped, revealing a mass of dark hair that whipped around her head in the wind as she ran further out into the darkness of the night.

Devlin stared after her his mouth agape.

Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

Surely not.

He realized this must be a sign. The one from above, the one he was waiting for.

He turned away from Ravenhurst, leaving its occupants and his good intentions behind as he followed the mystery woman into the darkness.

He now had a new purpose.

CAPTIVITY BE DAMNED

Radcliff Manor

ISABELLE was finished being a captive.

She wondered what in the hell the world was coming to?

First, she was stuck in her own cellar, thanks to her poor choice of a husband. She barely escaped, only to find herself now, somewhere else entirely.

At least she was warm and felt clean. That was something, she supposed. Which brought on another barrage of questions?

How did she get clean? Why was she in a bed? And who took her and why? Surely, it was a man by the looks of the room she was in—a wealthy one at that.

She knew he could not be conspiring with Devlin, although Devlin was, in her mind, a sorry excuse for a human being. He would never willingly let another share his joy of keeping her captive without some word of derision from his trollop.

No, her Devlin would be happy keeping her in the pits of hell as long as it served his loathsome purpose.

Isabelle knew she should be thankful for the respite, but this was getting utterly ridiculous. The way her luck was running, there was no end in sight either.

She heard the door scraping against the floor and quickly closed her eyes, feigning sleep once more.

PLANS GONE AWRY

Ravenhurst

MILFORD quietly walked into the library. The fire crackled and hissed in the hearth. Spotting Sebastian in a chair, Milford took a breath and straightened his waistcoat. Oh, he was not looking forward to this one bit.

Thinking he may as well get this ruse set in motion, he cleared his throat, drawing Sebastian's attention.

With weary bloodshot eyes, Sebastian looked up from the fire. "Yes, Milford what is it?"

"She is gone," he said tonelessly.

"Who is gone?" he questioned warily, as his heart began pounding erratically.

Milford shifted on his feet. Not able to keep direct eye contact, he stared at the ground and let Sebastian fill in the blank.

In an instant, Sebastian was on his feet. "How long?"

Milford shrugged his shoulders. It was the most non- committal answer he could give, not wanting to lie outright.

Sebastian strode past him to the foyer, grabbed his coat and then came back to stand just inside the library door. "What are you waiting for, man? We have no time to dally!" He slung his greatcoat on, went back to the front door, and then opened it up.

A harsh cold wind blew against him. Putting on his hat, he pulled the brim down and ventured out into the elements.

Milford rolled his eyes and trailed behind slower than necessary. He did not want to leave the warmth of the house to search in vain outdoors. It was freezing outside, but he saw no other alternative.

He knew if Sebastian went to her room, which he would eventually, he would find the secret passage and unlike Katherine, he would break the door down and all would have been for naught.

He could not see what was in that room, not yet at least.

Milford donned his coat and accepted his fate, following Sebastian into the dark, cold night.

TIME LAPSE

Ravenhurst

KATHERINE had no idea how much time had passed when she finally fell back into her borrowed room from the secret passageway.

"Woo Hoo!" She did a little happy dance, squealing in delight that she was out of the dreaded pit and in one piece.

She had her doubts for a while.

Slamming the doors shut, she shoved her butt up against them and pushed backward.

The armoire slowly moved back against the wall. The forgotten poker sat on the floor right where she had left it. She didn't even realize she left it behind until this very moment. "Unbelievable! I am an idiot."

She shook her head, grabbed it off the floor, and wedged it under one of the claw feet.

Once finished, she brushed her hands off and stood back to inspect her handiwork. At least, that would stop whomever or whatever had been trying to come in. At least, she hoped it would.

There was a distinct chill in the room, she glanced towards the fire—the embers were black. Apparently, she had been down in the pit for a while. Her stomach growled, another reminder of how long she had been gone.

She lifted her hand to her hair, something moved. She batted her head like a crazy person.

A large spider landed at her feet.

"Gross. Gross. Gross," she screamed and jumped on top of it, mashing the furry body under her boot.

She hated bugs, spiders especially. She felt like her skin was crawling.

"That's it!" She lifted the hem of her gown and yanked it over her head. The rolled-up parchment fell from the folds. She leaned down, picked it up, and read the barely legible scrawl...

Find the key so she may return to me... I beg of you... please!

CAPTIVITY MAY NOT BE SO BAD

Radcliff Manor

ISABELLE quickly shut her eyes as her captor entered the room. She listened intently, trying to picture mentally what he was doing. She smelled food... warm, delicious food. Her mouth watered and her stomach groaned with pains.

She was starving.

The last time she ate was when Judith dumped her food on the floor, if you could call it food after she got finished with it. Bitch.

Isabelle barely lifted her lashes—she had to peek. A large man walked carefully into the room. He was holding a tray, or at least, trying to. There was a delicate bowl placed in the center. The contents spilled over the sides as he slowly made his way over to the small table in front of the fire.

He tried to keep the tray balanced in his hands, but when it spilled, once again he cursed under his breath.

Isabelle smiled. She couldn't help herself. He did not look the way she thought he would have looked. Her mind had conjured a different image entirely. At least he didn't look like a troll. She caught glimpses of his movements as he set the tray down. Once he finished he turned and looked over his shoulder at her briefly.

She quickly shut her eyes, only opening them again when she heard him stoking the fire. She could see his profile perfectly now.

His face was not the fresh face of a young man barely beginning his life, but one of a man. He had light brown hair with a smattering of gray at the temples. It was full and curled up at the ends as it brushed against his collar. His jaw was strong, chiseled, with full lips. There was a jagged, reddish mark down the side of his face, marring the perfection of his strong profile.

Instantly, anger flared within her.

What a horrible injustice to mar such perfection.

Normally, Isabelle found herself drawn to younger men, ones who had yet to bloom fully. They were more pliable that way. She wondered if he too would be pliable... or was he the one in charge?

Looking at him now, stoking the fire with his shirtsleeves rolled up, she focused on his strong forearms and the way his muscles bunched under the back of his shirt. She could clearly see he was more of a take-charge kind of man. She let her gaze travel lower, watching him lean back onto his haunches, the muscles in his thighs straining against the fabric of his breeches. She saw quite clearly the fabric straining in another area as well. Goodness.

She was getting warmer just looking at him and decided quickly her predicament was not as bad as she originally thought.

Her situation could be worse—he could be some toothless heathen from the wilds. She was smart enough to see her blessings when they were placed before her. And this, she admitted, was one of them.

Isabelle admired any man who commanded attention, no matter where he was, and this man kneeling in front of the fire certainly did.

Why she ever settled for Devlin was something she would need to write off as a very poor judgment call on her part. She closed her eyes tightly again as he rose to his feet. She could hear his heavy steps closing the distance between them. She dared not open her eyes, but could feel him standing right beside her.

Grayson lifted his hand and gently smoothed a wayward curl away from her face. He had thought she would have awakened by now. He glanced over at the tray he prepared for her and acknowledged it could wait. She really needed rest.

Reaching out, he pulled the blankets up around her more, making sure she was warm enough and then he leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead. "Sweetest of dreams to you, my winter princess."

Isabelle listened to his rich baritone voice—it was deep, strong, and very manly.

She shivered inwardly, but not from the cold.

A few moments later when she heard the door close, she couldn't help smiling to herself.

Perhaps she should thank Devlin for being the worst kind of wastrel, since the result seemed not to be such a bad thing after all.

TOO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS

Ravenhurst

WATER sloshed over the sides of the tub onto the tiles of the bathroom floor as Katherine jumped in. She scrubbed herself diligently and washed her hair twice.

She wondered what the note meant. Who wrote it? Was it the knight, or someone else? There were too many unanswered questions swirling in her mind.

She submerged her head under the water, rinsing the soap and any bugs that may have jumped into it while she was in the hidden passage.

Once finished, she climbed quickly from the tub and ran naked across the room. She forgot to bring a robe with her. Shivering, she opened up the wardrobe and pulled a different dress out.

This one was a simple muslin gown.

The color wasn't the best but at least it felt like it would be warm. Once she buttoned it up the front, she grabbed a small linen towel from where she left it earlier and used it to grab the necklace off the floor. She set it down in the towel on the floor and then went over to relight the fire. She tossed in a few smaller pieces of wood so it would kick out more heat.

Still shivering, she walked over to the bureau and pulled out one of the larger shawls so she could sit on it in front of the fire.

Holding on to each end, she spread the heavy shawl out in front of the fire and then sat down.

The necklace sparkled in the firelight on the floor, drawing her to it once more. She reached out, lifted it, and placed it in her lap. Running her fingertips over the stone, a jolt skittered along her arm.

Thick, swirling, white mist instantly clouded her mind, stealing her sight. Once her vision cleared, a scene appeared before her.

FLASH ♦NEW YORK CITY ♦ PRESENT DAY

A large bedroom came into focus. The girl with awesome clothes was lying in the middle of a huge bed with a tufted headboard, asleep. Katherine now knew, it had to be Marguerite. She tried to see what she was wearing this time. Her eyes zeroed in. Of course, she was in a sweet pair of silk pajamas. They were black and white polka dotted. Oh, she loved silk pajamas. They certainly beat the hell out of the little girl, flouncy gowns she was stuck wearing to bed.

Marguerite looked pretty, too.

Katherine wished she looked that good sleeping.

Marguerite rolled over, making her hair fan out across one of the fluffy pillows on the bed. How was that even possible? Her hair even looked good while she slept.

It was just not fair.

Disgusted, Katherine turned her attention to the rest of the room. A flat screen television was at the bottom of the bed. A movie was playing on the screen. A thrill of excitement rushed through her.

How she missed television, she adored a good movie. Up until recently, it had been about her only pastime. She focused her mind... hearing a shrill cry...

FLASH ♦LONDON, EAST END 1888

"White Chapel, another 'orrible murder!"

The picture became clearer.

A newsboy stood on the edge of a wet cobbled street, holding papers in his hand. Covered hansom cabs clamored by, horses pulling them, barely missing the boy and splashing him with dirty water from the street. He cussed and wiped the water from his face, shaking his little fist in the air.

Gaslight lanterns hung from metal carriage hooks on poles that lined the street, each casting out yellowish hues. Prostitutes gathered under them bedecked in their tawdriest finery while others leaned against the walls of the buildings. A cloaked figure emerged from a darkened alleyway. Women called out to him, promising pleasures of their bodies in exchange for coin. The cloaked figure ignored them, pulling the brim of his top hat down low and his cloak collar higher.

He stopped under a gaslight, his face hidden from view. He pulled something from the bag he carried—a doctor's bag. It was a knife, the steel blade glinting under the streetlight.

Katherine realized who he must be... Jack the Ripper!

She was elated. Unwittingly, she held the amulet tighter, willing to see even more. It was one of her all-time favorite movies. She concentrated on the scene, ready to settle down and amuse herself for a while.

Another jolt coursed through her body, sending tingling sensations throughout as another flash of white stole her sight...

A door slammed.

She jumped and her mind instantly returned back to the present.

The necklace thudded onto the carpet as she stood and ran over to the door. She stuck her head out, peering around the corner. The hallway was dark and gloomy. The same way it always looked. She pulled back inside the door a bit and listened for any other sounds, but it was quiet as a tomb. She waited another moment... still nothing. The door made an eerie creaking sound as she closed it partway, reminding her of a haunted house, which freaked her out even more.

Shaking herself, she walked over to the pitcher on the table near the bed and poured some water. She took a sip and made a sour face—the water still tasted nasty. She was going to need to find something else to drink soon or else she was going to get dehydrated.

She looked around.

Nothing seemed amiss.

Walking back across the room, she sat back down front of the fire and lifted the necklace again.

Another jolt coursed through her body, stealing her sight once more.

She reopened her eyes in another time.

FLASH ♦ LONDON, EAST END 1888

Fog slowly rolled across a large body of water. A lone girl sat on the edge of an embankment. Boats creaked and bobbed as water pushed them back and forth against the dock of a waterfront.

Katherine caught a whiff of some foul odor. Was that from the river?

Gross.

It must be the river Thames. She heard it stunk, but this was terrible.

She lifted the ruffled collar of her gown and tucked her nose down into it. It didn't work very well. She could still smell the vile odor.

She heard the shrill cry of the small newsboy again...

"White Chapel"...the rest was drowned out by foghorns blowing from some distant place on the water.

The girl came into focus again. Her face was buried in her knees, rocking back and forth... her arms wrapped around her legs. She lifted her head and appeared to be speaking to herself, her lips moving a mile a minute, but then she buried her face again into her legs.

Katherine tried to make out the mumbled words and concentrated as hard as she could, but a dull ache started pressing out from behind her eyes.

"Please, please, please... take me out of this hell hole," the girl cried.

Katherine could feel the girl's fear gripping her as she was pulled closer to the scene...

The caped figure appeared again. He was headed straight toward her, his boots scraping across the wet cobbled street. A knife held in his hand.

Oh shit, was he going to kill her? Katherine didn't remember this scene from the movie at all.

Then the girl lifted her head. Shock and terror coursed through Katherine's body. Oh no, the girl was, is, Marguerite, still wearing her sweet, silk black and white polka dot pajamas, except now, she looked like death itself was stalking her.

Katherine shut her eyes. The vision did not go away. She yelled out a warning to Marguerite, "Run!"

Marguerite looked up as if she heard Katherine speak.

Katherine screamed again, "RUN! HE IS GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Tears slid down Marguerite's face as she shook her head back and forth, but still did not move.

Katherine was getting pissed.

What the hell?

Was she an idiot?

The least she could do was make a break for it. Katherine's mind raced. Her breath hitched in her throat as she tried to get Marguerite to move.

"Don't just sit there. Run!" Katherine screamed once more. She couldn't believe it. What in the hell was going on?

She concentrated as hard as she could, her head aching in response as she tried to envision the apartment again. The bed... the television... oh no, not the television... he was almost to her now...

Katherine pressed her mind as hard as she could, trying to picture the bed again... the black tufted headboard, the silver and blue damask comforter, the mirrored end tables, the silver lamps adorned with crystal prisms that dangled from underneath black silk shades...

Finally, after she felt like her head was going to explode, another jolt coursed through her, stealing her sight once more. She held the necklace so tightly, her hands hurt. Slowly, the pain ebbed from her mind as the white swirling curtain of fog lifted once again and her vision cleared.

Marguerite was once more in the apartment. She was hugging her knees, rocking back and forth in the center of the bed as sobs tore from her throat.

Katherine dropped the necklace. It thudded onto the floor and she scurried away from it, stumbling to stand. Her entire body shook, and she felt sick to her stomach. She grabbed the towel and lifted the chain of the necklace, holding it away from her body. She ran across the room, pulled open the drawer, and tossed the necklace inside.

She kicked the drawer closed with her foot.

The entire dresser shook, rattling bottles on the top. She backed away from the dresser.

"Holy Shit!"

"I almost killed Marguerite."

THE PRICE OF LIES

Somewhere near Ravenhurst

MILFORD was freezing his backside off and he had no one to blame but himself for his discomfort. Had he the wherewithal to leave things as they were he would not have found himself in his current predicament. He shivered again, making his teeth chatter so hard he thought they were going to pop out of his mouth at any moment.

Sebastian was relentless in his pursuit of Marguerite, who wasn't really Marguerite at all. Of course, Sebastian knew nothing about that at this time but Milford was sure it would dawn on him soon enough. He couldn't help but wonder what Sebastian would do when he found out? Would he still force her hand in marriage so he could get his hands on Ravenhurst?

Of course, there was a lot more to it than keeping his fortune but Sebastian didn't know that, yet. He was just another pawn to be used in a much larger game that had started a very long time ago. Still, either both of their actions could bring the legend closer to being resolved or it may ruin all that Milford worked so hard and long to rectify. He let out a chattering sigh, pulling his collar up and tugged down on the brim of his hat to stop the wind from taking it.

He shook off his dark thoughts.

It was too soon to lose hope.

All would work out. It simply had to. He owed Darias that much.

Milford pulled back on the reins of his horse, slowing down to round another sharp turn.

The snow was falling in earnest now. He could barely make out the dark outline of the ravine. He was afraid they would go too close. Hell, he could hardly see his horse's head. If Sebastian had not known the trail so well, they may have fallen to their deaths in that damnable hole from hell. It was the very same that Sebastian's father's life had ended in. Milford's body shuddered violently. He pulled his coat back over his legs as they continued with their vain search. Milford could only hope Sebastian would give up before they both froze to death.

Sebastian was not faring much better. He knew they needed to stop—it was getting too dangerous to continue. He was nearly frozen too, but he was reluctant to stop looking. He tried to tell himself it was simply because he did not want her escaping his grasp, again, before he got what he needed from her—which was a bride. But deep down he knew there was a bit more to it than that.

He pulled on the length of his greatcoat, pulling it back over his frozen thighs. It would seem the only warmth he could bring into his body came from thoughts of Marguerite. His mind replaying every moment he spent with her since she returned.

She was so changed, so different than he remembered. He thought of the way she smiled, how it reached up to her eyes. A rare smile lit his face as he thought of how she held her breath when he was near. How she responded to his kisses with such enthusiasm, warmth, and passion. A chuckle slipped out as he thought of how her deep blue eyes blazed with indignation when he told her he was leaving Ravenhurst to go to London after they were wed. No, she did not seem very pleased with that bit of information.

Hell, he thought she would have been ecstatic, but she wasn't. Actually, she seemed a bit put out, maybe even a bit sad by the news. So why did she leave him? An image of her deep blue eyes flashing with anger flitted through his mind. Abruptly he pulled his mount to a halt and lifted his gloved hand in the air for Milford to do the same.

"Bloody Hell!" That cannot be right. He envisioned her face once more and shook his head to clear his mind.

"No, no, no! This can not be right." His mind shouted what his heart already knew.

Marguerite's eyes were not blue, nor did she have a freckle just above her brow. Nor had Marguerite ever made Sebastian insane with desire.... No, this woman, the one he was falling for...he shook his head, who in the hell was he kidding, had already fallen for, was not Marguerite at all. And if she was not Marguerite, then who in the hell was she?

Why did she leave him just as Marguerite had?

He closed his eyes against the storm raging outside and the one from within.

Icy pellets of snow beat against his body as a feeling of desolation spread through him, snatching away all hope of ever finding true happiness.

JUST DESSERTS

Ravenhurst Dungeon

BLACKNESS surrounded him on all sides. The smell of death robbed the air of any freshness.

Yes, Devlin Renquist was getting a good dose of his own medicine. By all accounts, he was stuck in some stinking hole without water or food, and both of his arms tied above his head.

There was something terribly wrong with his leg. It was bent in an awkward position. He just knew it was broken.

Surprisingly, he did not feel the pain as he knew he should, which was a blessing in itself he supposed.

Had he not been so hell-bent on chasing after the woman, he may have kept some of his wits about him. But no, not Devlin. He was chasing a fantasy.

He remembered seeing Sebastian, the blasted do-gooder, and his man, Milford, running out of the front of the house towards the stables. At first, he thought they were following her as well. He was prepared to stop them if necessary. Obviously, she was fleeing from them both.

Devlin stayed in the shadows 'til they were out of sight. They were headed in the wrong direction. He did not correct them, either. He knew in which direction she had run and circled around the back of the house as well. He continued to look for the woman whom he thought at the time was Marguerite...what a mistake that was.

Unfortunately, the last thing he remembered was rounding the corner and entering Ravenhurst from a hidden door. He thought himself so clever at the time, so careful.

He was wrong.

He was hit with such force, he stumbled. He turned, shaken, not comprehending what was happening.

His attacker walked closer, arm raised, ready to strike him again. He knew he should run, or at least put up some kind of fight, but he found he could not. The look in her eyes was his undoing. It froze him to his core. The woman was without a doubt quite simply... insane.

His body shuddered involuntarily from the recollection, sending splinters of pain throughout his body.

He welcomed the blackness this time.

WHEN YOU OPEN THE WRONG DOOR

Ravenhurst

KATHERINE was super jumpy since her last vision and with good reason, too. She was pretty sure she had almost, albeit inadvertently, gotten Marguerite killed—by Jack the Ripper, no less.

"What a horrific way to go." Her body was still trembling and she had a pounding headache.

Rubbing her aching forehead, she decided it would be in her best interest to leave the necklace hidden away in the drawer until she could talk to Milford about it. And boy, did he have some explaining to do.

Replaying the scene over in her mind, she couldn't quite wrap her head around how that was even possible.

Granted there were a lot of things recently that really couldn't be possible, but sending another person to the dregs of London with Jack the Ripper...that was really out there. And if she could really send people to their demises early, on a whim, wouldn't Milford have made it a point to give her the heads-up about that little piece of pertinent information?

No doubt about it, she was going to give him a ton of crap when she found him, but that was the hard part. She couldn't find him, Sebastian, or anyone else for that matter, since she returned from the pit beneath her room.

Already, she had been searching for at least an hour and there was no sign of anyone.

The house appeared to be completely empty.

Katherine even tried the glass thing again, lifting it in the air for her refill, but that was a bust. She had to fill it herself.

After the incident with Marguerite, she needed to take the edge off. She carried it with her as she looked for another live body. No one was around, which really was freaking her out. And that wasn't even the worst part. She felt like she was being watched the entire time.

Now she was back where she started, refilling her glass once more, and had to wonder if she entered another dimension or something. Really, how long was she down in the freaking pit?

Seriously, it couldn't have been that long.

Granted, the house was HUMONGOUS, but really, how could there not be one person in the house besides her? Goosebumps rose on her arms as her mind began to spin...she was all alone... in a big house....

Luckily, her stomach growled, stopping her freak-out. The need for food overrode her fear momentarily.

She was starving.

Grabbing up her glass off the table, she headed down the hall towards the back of the house where the kitchen was located. Maybe everyone was eating... right...

"Or they were being eaten."

♦

Having survived the kitchen creatures, Katherine glumly walked back out into the hall. There was no food to speak of inside except a lone biscuit. She took a bite. It was stale and hard. Lifting her drink, she thought about dunking it directly into her wine, to soften it up a bit...

A door slammed from somewhere, echoing through the hall.

Katherine jumped and her lone biscuit fell to the floor. She groaned and looked down at where her biscuit was now residing. Her stomach growled angrily. Damn.

Maybe she should try the five-second rule and pick it up really fast? It couldn't be that dirty...

Another loud bang sounded behind her in the kitchens.

She knew no one was in there since she just left.

Screw the biscuit.

She kicked it out of the way as she grabbed up her skirts and took off down the hall. Full speed, she ran all the way back to the library, skidding to a halt just inside the doors. Quickly, she slid them shut and turned the key to lock it.

"What the hell was that?"

She looked down at her now-empty glass and set it on the table. Making her way over to the fireplace, she looked for something to use as a weapon. The embers of the fire were more black than red. She bent down, threw in another log, lifted the poker up, and jabbed at the coals inside.

Her hand shook uncontrollably, making the poker bounce up and down. Pulling it back out of the fire, she set it up on the side of the fireplace where she could easily grab it if she needed it.

What she really needed to do was calm down, but her mind was having none of that.

Granted it was just a door slam, probably from the wind...right...the wind.

Oh, she knew she was being a chicken...again.

Maybe it was Sebastian or a lone servant left behind?

Of course, she did not see or hear any of them when she was calling out earlier, or when she searched the house. So if they weren't in the house, then who in the hell made the noise?

Her entire body filled with fear, making her skin prickle. She glanced over at the sparkling decanter in the corner. It was filled with a hefty amount of liquid courage. She didn't even need to think about this one. She walked over, poured herself a huge glass, and downed it, trying to kick-start her false sense of bravado.

It seemed to be working.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hair away from her face and pressed her shoulders back like a soldier ready to do battle.

She marched across the library, opened the door, and kept right on marching down the hall. She made a right, and clomped up another set of stairs.

Once she made it to the top of the stairs however, her false sense of bravado started to dwindle.

Apparently, fear was kicking liquid courage's ass.

Suits of armor lined either side of the wall. There was a tall window at the end. Each step she took sent her mind back to an alternate existence...to the future, when she was wandering about in this same place.

She knew what she would find at the end.

Even though she didn't really want to go in the direction she was headed, she was pulled that way just the same. Stopping at the end of the hall, she shivered. It seemed to have gotten even colder than moments before. When she exhaled, her breath filled the air around her head like cigarette smoke.

It was that cold.

The sound of her borrowed boots hitting the parquet tiles rang out in the darkness as she stepped through the archway and into the gallery.

This time there was no music, nor the feeling of giddiness from too much champagne. No, this time she felt completely alone and really scared, and yet, she still walked further inside.

"Oh my God, what is wrong with me?"

Obviously, she had lost her freaking mind. She made it a point to stay away from the portraits, and instead, walked across the room to a door that was mostly hidden by a large curtain.

There was a faint light coming from underneath.

Pulling the curtain away, her palms were suddenly damp, although it was freezing. She wiped them on the folds of her dress and then reached out and turned the knob.

The door swung open easily.

She waffled on the threshold, not wanting to go inside the room but she lifted her foot and took a step inside anyway.

The room stunk.

She immediately covered her nose and mouth with her hand. She couldn't take a breath. The smell made her sick. It reminded her of something from her childhood—she hated the smell, and yet, she still kept right on walking into the room.

"I must be crazy."

The room looked long forgotten. Large pieces of fabric covered the furniture, which really looked like sheets from a bed.

The further she went into the room the smell did not seem nearly as bad as when she opened the door. She bent down and lifted the edge of one of the sheets. Underneath were the gilded legs of several chairs and a sheet-music stand.

To her left was a piano, its outline unmistakable under the fabric. She lifted another one and found a harp.

Obviously, this was a music room. She looked up to the domed ceiling, painted in light shades, depicting another gang of cherubs floating amidst the clouds.

"What is with these people?"

She didn't know which were worse, the gargoyles or the fat-bellied cherubs. She dropped her gaze and it settled on a much larger object draped in yards of white fabric in the corner.

The hair on the nape of her neck stood up.

She forced herself forward, somehow needing to see what was under it. She took a deep breath, lifted the edge, and yanked the fabric off in one swift movement.

She felt like a magician, except she wasn't saying Ta-Da. White, powdery dust floated in the air, filling her nostrils, making her sneeze and cough. She wiped the wetness from her eyes with her sleeves, her vision finally clearing as she looked at what she'd uncovered.

It was another painting.

She gasped and covered her mouth, wishing she had kept it covered.

It was of a woman, her face horribly disfigured.

Pity filled her. How awful! What sicko would paint something like that?

Her question was answered rather quickly.

The woman in the painting smiled.

Katherine gaped in shock, not able to process what she was seeing, and realized too late that it was not a painting at all, but a mirror.

The smile on the woman's face was not a welcoming smile either.

It scared the hell out of her.

Something glinted in her hand.

An image of Jack the Ripper flashed in her mind and she quickly turned around but she was not fast enough.

A searing pain shot through her head, she staggered forward, her vision turning blurry. Warm blood slipped through her fingers and splattered onto the floral carpet, turning the little white flowers red. Her body gave out and she fell to the floor.

Her last thought was of Sebastian...he would think she left him too.

REGRETS

Ravenhurst

SEBASTIAN, with Milford trailing behind, made it back to Ravenhurst before they both froze to death. He was still battling with the idea that Marguerite was not Marguerite. It was more of a feeling than an actuality. But if she wasn't Marguerite, who was she then? And why did she have such an uncanny resemblance to Marguerite? Could they be related? They had to be. But if so, why did she come to Ravenhurst pretending to be Marguerite?

The only thing he seemed to know for certain was that she did not leave him of her own accord. He had no idea how he knew this.

Perhaps his pride would not let him admit another woman had left him. Either way, whoever she was, he had to find her. He just had to.

Milford pushed open the front door, and dragged himself into the foyer, welcoming the warmth of the house. He peeled his frozen coat from his body, shook the clumps of snow off, and hung it up to dry. Jerking on his gloves, he removed them from his frozen fingers and dropped them on the hall table. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he tried to blow the feeling back into them.

His gaze slanted up the stairs. Something felt very wrong.

Sebastian enter the house behind him.

Milford looked back over his shoulder at Sebastian as he removed his own coat and hat. Snow had painted his brows and the ends of his dark hair white. It hung in heavy clumps.

Sebastian looked past Milford, up the stairs.

Milford wondered if he felt it, too. She was not here. Oh, good Lord, what had he done?

Sebastian brushed past Milford and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He raced down the hall, his heart plummeting a little more with each step he took.

He pushed on the door to her room.

It slammed open, straining against its hinges.

He walked inside. Shoes were all over the floor and a plaid gown was thrown over one of the wingback chairs. There was a small towel lying on the rug. He picked it up. It was damp. He looked in the bath. It was empty, but the floor still had pools of water on the tiles. He didn't know why this surprised him. He had just gone out on a vain search to find her. But he had felt for sure she would be at Ravenhurst when he returned. But she really was gone. He felt it down to his bones. That simple fact did not stop him from looking in every room, just the same.

It was another vain search.

Milford trailed behind him, looking for any signs of what may have befallen her. He even snuck away and looked in the room that was locked.

She was not there either.

She had vanished.

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS

Ravenhurst

THE following day, a gust of wind blew through the front doors of Ravenhurst as Isabelle swept into the foyer with Grayson right behind.

"Thank you," she said, smiling widely as she hurried past him to shut the door. Isabelle's body practically purred when he was near. They had been spending almost every waking moment together since he brought her back from her winter's slumber. Slow was not a word one would often find in Isabelle's vocabulary. Life was just too damn short.

Sebastian heard the commotion in the front hall and jumped from the chair he had been in since the evening before and ran to the doorway. He pulled up short. Rubbing his hands over his face, he groaned.

"Goodness dear, is that any way to treat your elusive Aunty?" Isabelle pulled a long, black, kidskin glove from her hand, one finger at a time. "I can guarantee if you knew what has happened to me lately, you would be wrapping your arms about me and thanking the heavens for my return."

Sebastian walked forward and dutifully gave his aunt a kiss on her cheek and a brief hug. She was chilled from the cold, reminding him of his own search not so long ago.

"My boy, what is it?" she questioned, sensing something was wrong. Leaning closer to his face, she reached forward and took his chin in her hand.

"Tell me what is troubling you," she implored, releasing his face.

Sebastian ran his hand through his hair and then dropped it at his side. "She's gone," he said tonelessly.

"Who is gone?" she asked, her brow creasing. Dawning took hold. "You are speaking of Marguerite, aren't you?"

"No, I wish I were," he answered despondently.

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

"My goodness Sebastian, what a terrible thing to say.... Take it back this instant," she warned.

He let out a breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean it but I can't seem to help myself." He turned away, walked back into the library, and sat back into the chair.

Grayson stood away, watching the entire exchange. It was obvious something was troubling the young man. He wondered what could be so dire.

Isabelle turned towards the door, spotting Milford coming down the stairs. Her dark blue velvet-riding ensemble made a gentle swishing sound on the rug as she walked back into the foyer.

"Milford, dear, please tell me what has gotten into my nephew?" She tugged off her remaining glove.

Milford glanced in Sebastian's direction and then cleared his throat. "I think this may take a while. Would you care to join me in the kitchen for some tea?" he asked, noting the stunned look on Isabelle's face.

"We decided to send the servants home to be with their families during the storm," he added quickly, explaining the staff's absence.

Isabelle frowned. Frankly, she was more than a bit surprised by that statement. Normally, she would have said as much to Milford, but since Grayson had done the very same thing with his servants, she kept her opinions to herself.

Besides, it had certainly worked out to her advantage with the servants gone. Her cheeks filled with color, thinking about how nice it was to be all alone in his big house. They could be as loud as they wanted and there were so many interesting places to have romantic interludes.

"That is a wonderful idea," she gushed excitedly, remembering one of her and Grayson's previous interludes which made her response come out more exuberant than necessary.

"Oh goodness me, where are my manners?" She turned back toward the library. "Sebastian, may I introduce you to the Duke of Radcliff, Grayson. He owns the bordering property to yours and mine."

"Hello." Sebastian barely looked up, giving Grayson a brief nod of acknowledgement.

Milford pursed his lips in disapproval and straightened his waistcoat. He tried to be sympathetic but couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"Shall we?" he inquired, extending his arms behind Isabelle and the Duke, herding them both from the room so Sebastian could mope in silence.

Once in the kitchen, he directed them to the table, and set about boiling water for tea and getting some biscuits from the larder. After he finished, he settled at the table, poured them each a cup of steaming tea, and relayed what had transpired thus far. He obviously left the largest parts out.

After he finished his tale, Milford stood up from the table and pressed his fingertips on the wood. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to check on something." Milford lifted his cup and saucer from the table and set it into the sink, then quickly rushed from the room.

"I wonder who lit a fire under his backside," Isabelle exclaimed, watching Milford exit the room.

Grayson smiled. "It did seem strange."

Isabelle shook her head, making her blonde curls dance. She brought her gaze back to Grayson. His hair was falling forward—he looked so devilishly handsome. She stood and walked behind his chair, wrapping her arms around his neck, and leaned into him from behind. "I can tell something is troubling you. What is on your mind?" she whispered into his ear.

Grayson turned towards her, looking thoughtful.

"From what I have heard, it does not make sense that this woman, who may or may not be Marguerite, would have actually left the house. Why would she? If she is a stranger, not familiar with her surroundings, what purpose would it serve to leave the creature comforts of this house, and journey out into the elements."

"I don't know."

"It just doesn't make sense, unless she was desperate with no other alternatives or did someone drive her out?" Grayson said the last looking into Isabelle's lovely green eyes. They reminded him of emeralds. A few pieces of her blonde hair had fallen from her coiffure.

Lifting his hand, he tucked a piece behind her ear. She smiled at him in such a way, all cohesive thought left his mind. He pulled her around the back of his chair and settled her onto his lap. She smiled at him with that insatiable look that drove him crazy. He groaned. It was a feral sound, coming from deep within as his mouth seized hers in a hungry kiss.

Isabelle kissed him back.

She loved the way he took command of her body. What he demanded, she gave all too willingly. She was no shy miss. She was a woman. She deftly unfastened his breeches as Grayson lifted her gown out of the way and pulled aside her undergarments. His strong hands gripped her hips as he settled her in his lap.

"Oh, yes..." she cried as Grayson slid his hands under her buttocks gripping them, and then thrust deeply inside.

"My God woman, where have you been all my life?" he murmured huskily, as his lips seized hers hungrily, using his tongue to tease, he licked one of her erogenous zones.

Isabelle moaned in response, not able to form a coherent thought. He filled her so completely, so perfectly, moving in and out of her body, faster, and then slowing down. He was driving her into a frenzy of wild abandon.

"Next door to you...apparently," she panted out, and then gasped in pleasure as his lips found her taut nipple.

He laughed, not able to help himself. The sound vibrated his chest.

"You are..." He trailed off and then groaned in satisfaction as she tightened around him. He went even deeper, and her body tensed around him even more as they both neared climax. Finally, with one last thrust he pushed them both quickly over the edge.

Grayson held onto Isabelle in the aftermath of their lovemaking, rubbing her back as their breathing returned to normal. He leaned forward, kissed Isabelle's forehead, and smoothed her hair away from her face.

Isabelle smiled and snuggled against his chest, wrapping her arms around him even more and then suddenly leaned back. "I am what?" she asked, a frown creasing her brow.

"Hmmm, I can't seem to recall."

Isabelle swatted at his chest playfully. "Yes you do. Now tell me what you were going to say," she insisted, giving him a wounded look.

He chuckled and then pulled her close and nuzzled her neck. "I was going to say that you are...absolutely perfect."

Isabelle pulled back and looked at his handsome face, trailing her finger down across the scar on the side. "Well I think you are absolutely perfect as well."

Grayson gave her a heavy lidded stare, his heart missing a beat with her sweet words.

Isabelle took his face in both of her hands and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"For saving my life."

"Now Isabelle, I told you..."

"Shhh," she said, and placed her finger on his lips. "I am serious, Grayson. You saved me from the worst possible predicament and instead turned it into some of the best moments of my life."

He gave her another genuine, heartwarming smile. "You have done the same for me as well," he said, with every bit of sincerity he was feeling.

Isabelle smiled at him, feeling very vulnerable suddenly and then wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders, nestling her head just below his chin.

Grayson closed his eyes and smiled, resting his chin on her head as he held on to her just as tightly. After a few moments of silence he said, "You know, someone may have taken her."

"Who, Marguerite?" Isabelle questioned, lifting her head a bit.

"Yes. But who and why, is the question we have to ask ourselves."

After a few moments of silence, they both looked at one another and in unison, said, "Devlin!"

"If he has her, he did not go far. He does not have enough upper body strength to carry her," Isabelle said, making a face. "Besides, there are a few hiding places within these very walls that Sebastian has no knowledge of. We should try those first."

She stood, putting her skirts back in order.

"That is, we should investigate after I freshen up a bit," she said, smiling at him like a smitten schoolgirl before turning and running off to do just that.

Grayson smiled to himself and refastened his breeches. He felt like a strapping lad, fresh from the schoolroom, enamored by his first crush.

Later, when Isabelle returned, she said nary a word. Instead, she crooked her finger at Grayson and beckoned him to follow.

Grayson chuckled and stood, gladly following her anywhere she wanted to go.

WIT'S END

Ravenhurst

SEBASTIAN sighed heavily and let the curtain slip from his grasp, the same as the mysterious girl had done. He shook his head at the irony of it all and threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling it back away from his face. He had already searched the house three times. He had hoped, no, he prayed there would be some clue as to her whereabouts but he found none.

Now he was back in the library with no one but his thoughts for company. The inactivity was driving him to distraction. Would Ravenhurst ever belong to him or would it always be dangling just out of his reach? Just like his ever elusive would-be bride. Now there were two would-be brides he had lost within a matter of months. Had he lost them or had they both run? Was he that terrible? Sebastian barked out a self-deprecating laugh.

"It would seem so."

He dropped his hands and began to pace the room. Back and forth, he walked until he caught sight of Milford standing in the doorway. "I've been thinking Milford," Sebastian said coming to a halt in front of the library doors.

Milford eyed him warily, taking in his disheveled appearance and the slightly crazed look in his eye. "Yes, and what have you been thinking about, Sir?'

"I have been thinking about the girl who claims she is Marguerite, although I know she is not."

Milford schooled his features. "What?" he asked with just the right amount feigned surprise. "Surely you are mistaken. Who else could she be if not Marguerite?"

"I don't know who she is. I just know she is not Marguerite." There was no need to tell him that Marguerite couldn't make him insane with desire even if she were to run naked in front of him, like the mysterious girl could with no more than a simple smile. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense anymore.

Frankly, Milford was surprised to see that Sebastian was so astute. He didn't think he would have figured out the differences between Marguerite and Katherine for quite some time. Not that he thought Sebastian was a dullard or anything remotely close. However, the man had been in a constant state of inebriation since Marguerite had vanished.

In fact, Milford had even begun to speculate that Sebastian must have cared a lot more for Marguerite than he originally let on, which was yet another complication in a long line of them.

He noticed Sebastian staring at him with a peculiar look on his face.

Milford cleared his throat and took on an authoritative posture. "Very well. Let us consider this for a moment, shall we? If she is not Marguerite, but another person pretending to be Marguerite, what possible purpose could it serve for her to do such a thing?" He wondered if this bit of information would help or hinder his cause. Time would tell, he supposed.

Sebastian didn't know. If he had the answer to that question, he wouldn't be so infuriated right now. "I know," he piped in. "We should go to Hawthorne and see if Devlin knows anything."

Milford shifted awkwardly. He did not expect that. His eyes widened. "What?" He remembered all too well their futile attempts searching in the frigid weather the previous evening.

"Are you sure we should leave? What if she returns and you are not here?" Milford asked, hoping he might change his mind. His damn toe was still frozen.

"I can't very well sit here and do nothing, man," Sebastian railed, and then began pacing once more.

The crazed look materialized in Sebastian's eyes once again, prompting Milford to concede. "You are right," he acknowledged, watching him cautiously.

"Perhaps he can be of some help." Of course, Milford had serious doubts that would be the case, but refrained from saying so.

It was obvious Sebastian needed a diversion.

WHAT IS BEHIND DOOR # 3

Ravenhurst Dungeon

KATHERINE opened her eyes and instantly wished she had kept them closed. It was so dark, she couldn't see.

She was instantly terrified.

Sitting up quickly, she groaned in pain and then promptly started to gag. There was a terrible stink in the air.

It smelled like something was decomposing.

Where in the hell am I? she wondered.

For a moment, she thought she was down in the pit under her borrowed room but quickly came to the realization she was somewhere even worse, once her mind synced up with itself. An image of the room draped in white fabric flashed in her mind and then the hideous woman who attacked her with a knife.

Knife? "Oh no!"

She instantly ran her hands over her body, looking for any stab wounds and let out a sigh of relief when she found none. She lifted her hand to brush her hair from her face and the tips of her fingers hit a sticky wetness. She poked at it with her finger.

"Ow," she whined, pulling her finger away.

What did that crazy bitch do? Stab her in her head? Was that even possible? Wouldn't her skull break the knife? She fingered around the wetness, ignoring the sharp pain it caused. She touched the area more. It didn't feel that deep and the bleeding had stopped. She pulled her fingers away. Her head hurt like hell and poking it with her finger wasn't helping.

The room had a closed, airless quality to it. She lifted part of her gown and used it as a filter. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to ward off a panic attack. If she didn't try to ward it off now, she would start to hyperventilate and she needed to focus to get her bearings so she could get out of here, fast.

She crawled up and tried to stand.

Her head smacked into something that jangled above her head. She reached out a shaky hand and grabbed hold. Feeling it with her fingers, she tried to figure out what it was. Her fingers slid through oblong holes, hooked together. It felt like metal.

"Okay, just a chain."

A chain!

What in the hell was a chain doing hanging from the ceiling. She cringed away from it and lowered herself back to the ground. "Think, think, think..."

Why would there be chains hanging from the ceiling? Of course, she automatically envisioned the worst possible scenario. Her entire body shook with fear as tears sprang to her eyes. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face.

An image of Marguerite doing the same thing flashed in her mind, the look of defeat and acceptance on her face. She reached up around her neck reflexively. Oh, crap!

She left the necklace in the room.

Stupid! Now she was going to have to use her wits to get out of here instead of a magical necklace—which sucked because she wasn't very good at accepting crappy hands dealt to her. Still, she would be damned if she was going to be a victim. She would figure a way out of this pit if it was the last thing she did. She immediately rejected that shortsighted thought. No, she was going to get out of here and then beat that bitch to a pulp that shoved her down here.

Fine, maybe she would just run in the other direction. The woman had a crazy look in her eye and her disfigured face really freaked her out. But why did the woman hit her and dump her down here? What did she want?

"For God sake Katherine, how stupid are you?" she muttered to herself.

Crazy people don't need reasons, they are just blissfully insane. Her head hurt, her mind was tired of sorting through questions for which she could find no ready answers. It was useless anyway.

This wasn't a movie, where the villain tells the captive why they are going to kill them.

No, this wasn't a movie. It was her delusional reality. She gave up trying to figure out where she was and tried to stand once more.

The ceiling was low so she couldn't stand fully. Trying another way, she lowered herself back to the ground and got into a crawling position. Slowly, she began to crawl across the floor. The ground felt like wet clay and moved slightly each time she brought her hands down.

As she groped her way across the ground, she hoped it was mud. Her hand flattened against something furry that caved and oozed under her fingers. She lifted her hand and started to gag.

It smelled vile, like a rotting carcass.

"Oh God," she cried out, trying to wipe her hand on another part of the floor. It slid into something sticky this time. She coughed, fighting the urge to gag again. She wanted to scream, but had no idea where the crazy woman was that attacked her, and she didn't want her to know she was awake.

It was probably a futile effort on her part. For all she knew, the Looney Tune dumped her body here because she thought she would rot, just like whatever animal or animals she was sticking her hands in.

Katherine forced herself to move, picking up speed and crawled further across the floor, away from the poor rotting animal's lifeless, tiny, decomposing body. At least she hoped that was what was decomposing and not something bigger.

Oh, no, if it were something bigger, what killed it? Her body shuddered with fear and dread.

Oh good Lord, she was going to pass out.

She forced the awful visions from her mind and continued onward. She was halfway across the valley of dead when her head butted up against something hard, making her neck snap back. Whatever she hit moaned mournfully—like a ghost.

"Ahhhhhhhhh," she screamed, falling backward onto the floor and kept right on moving until her body hit the wall and stopped her escape. Barely breathing, she stayed perfectly still, terrified of making a noise.

She wasn't sure how much time passed before she mustered enough courage to say something. The moan did sound human after all. "Hello," she whispered into the darkness.

There was no answer.

She tried again, louder this time. "Hello?"

Devlin jerked his head in the direction of the voice, which immediately sent a ripple of pain through his body. His jaw tensed but he kept quiet. He had been hearing too many voices since he was brought to this place.

They were all mad.

He heard the faint voice again. At least this voice sounded sane. "Hello," he finally answered. His voice came out as more of a moan than a reply.

Katherine unclenched her fists as relief flooded her. At least, she wasn't alone. She took a breath. Her lungs filled with the rotten smell of the room, making her cough and gag again.

Devlin stared intently towards the direction of the sound, hoping he wasn't hearing things.

Katherine finally stopped gagging. She tried to talk again, her voice coming out just above a whisper this time. "Who are you?"

Devlin dropped his head forward, his chin touching his chest. Thank God, he was not alone. "I am Devlin Renquist, the Lord of Hawthorne Manor," he said, biting back another wave of pain that splintered up his leg.

"Are you all right?" she asked, speaking louder this time.

Devlin gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain. "No. I do not believe I am all right. I think I may have a broken leg."

Katherine quickly remembered who he was. Oh freaking perfect. This was just getting better and better. She could only hope she was wrong in her earlier assumption, maybe he wasn't that bad. At least he was better than the Lizzie Borden bitch.

"Are you still there?" he asked, sounding desperate to his own ears.

"Great," he laughed—it was a hollow, emotion-less sound. "Now I am going quite mad as well," he mumbled bitterly to the darkness.

"It would serve you right, Devlin," he said darkly to himself, and then began laughing even harder.

Katherine felt bad.

Poor guy. He sounded crazy.

She couldn't blame him. She had only been awake in this disgusting pit for a few minutes, and she found she was starting to freak out as well. She felt even worse when he started to cry and laugh at the same time. She couldn't take it. He may have given her the creeps before, but obviously, he was hurt and scared. "Devlin, please stop. You are not crazy. I am here with you. You aren't imagining me."

Devlin stopped sob-laughing. "Are you really here?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, unfortunately I am," she said, and then sighed. "How could I not be?" she grumbled. "It seems I am as stuck as you are."

"You poor dear, are you chained as well?" He tugged on the chains above his head, making them jangle loudly.

"Chained?" Why was he chained? What was Crazy afraid of?

"Yes, I am chained. My arms are above my head and I have lost all feeling in them," he complained.

Perfect. "I am on my way, so keep talking, okay?"

"You must be an angel," he said in a faraway voice.

Katherine laughed, she couldn't help it. "Oh no, I am no angel." Far from it, she thought.

"Who are you?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation going to keep his mind off the pain in his leg.

"Um...I am, uh...Marguerite," she lied.

He was quiet a moment. "You are not Marguerite."

Katherine skidded to a halt. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I know you are not Marguerite."

"How would you know that?" she asked. Sebastian, her so-called betrothed, had no idea she wasn't Marguerite, so how would he? "Did you do something to her?" she asked, really not expecting him to answer.

"Not recently," he said with an audible sigh. Why should he lie? It would all be out in the open soon enough. And if he died here, he wanted a clear conscience.

"What do you mean... not recently?" she asked, almost afraid to hear what he would say.

"I promise to tell you if you answer two questions for me."

Katherine chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking about it. Well hell, what could it hurt? "Okay."

Devlin was surprised she did not deny him. "Who are you, really?"

Well, wasn't this just peachy? She continued to pick her way over towards the sound of his voice.

Why should she lie, there was really nothing to lose at this point. Besides she was tired of keeping secrets, she was never good at it anyway. For once, she was thankful for the darkness, it would be easier to tell the truth if she didn't have to see his face afterwards. "Here goes nothing," she mumbled to herself. "My name is Katherine Nicole Jamison."

"I knew it," he whooped loudly, the action caused his body to move and he groaned out in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes and no," he answered indecisively.

Katherine could hear him more clearly. She was getting close. "So which is it Devlin?"

He chuckled at that and then sucked in his breath as another wave of pain assailed him. "I am fine," he lied.

"Okay." She didn't believe him but decided to keep his mind on something other than the pain he was obviously in. "So, how did you know I am not Marguerite?"

"I am not sure really, the resemblance you have for one another is uncanny but there are distinct differences as well. Needless to say it didn't take me very long to figure it out."

Well, he sounded quite pleased with himself, she thought. Maybe she should really blow his mind and tell him she was from the future, here to fix a wrong done to some knight.

On second thought, maybe not, since she didn't even know what she was doing here, so telling him wouldn't be as mind-blowing as she would have wanted. "So what landed you in this pit?"

He was silent so long she thought he might have passed out again.

Devlin finally answered. "My arrogance, I suppose." He paused a moment and then asked a question of his own, "How about you? The do-gooder toss you down here?"

"No!" she snapped.

He chuckled, suddenly amused. "A man could hope."

"What's with you two, anyway?" she asked, just as her head rammed into his gut.

"Oh God, sorry," she said, lifting her hands trying to hold him in place.

Devlin's entire body tensed. He pulled against his restraints, trying to alter his weight. "I am all right."

"You don't sound all right."

"Well, I am as good as can be expected under the circumstances."

"There is that," she agreed. "Okay, so this will hurt so..."

"Just do it...please."

"Here goes nothing." She stood up, reached out, and missed. "Damn."

"What's the matter?"

"I keep missing you. Hold on a sec." She took a tentative step forward. This time she hit him full on with her body. "Oh God, sorry."

Devlin wasn't sure how long he would be able to bear her attempts at rescue. His jaw tensed. "It's fine. Try again."

Katherine felt terrible. "Okay, but I am sure this will hurt a bit."

"I am sure it will too," Devlin readily agreed, laughing lightly even though he was in pain.

"Smarty Pants," she said, but smiled into the darkness. At least he had a sense of humor. She lifted her hand and made contact with him this time. She ran her hands up his chest and followed his arm up to one of the restraints.

Devlin closed his eyes again and let his head fall against the soft curve of her breast.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," he said, but still did not move.

Katherine diligently worked on the screws to the cuffs, ignoring his face mushed up against her right boob. "You know, you never did answer me before."

"What was the question?"

"What is with you and Sebastian?"

"Oh, that."

"Why do you say it like that?" She unhinged one of his hands and draped it over her shoulder, trying to use her body to hold him up. "Just a couple more minutes and I'll have you out of this."

He nodded his head, fighting another wave of pain. Once it passed he answered, "That is a long story."

"It looks like we have some time."

"Maybe you could ask me another question."

Katherine wanted the answer to that one but asked another. "So what is your deal? What are you about?"

"Pardon?"

Oh crap, she forgot he was a Victorian. "I guess I mean, who are you, really, down deep and why?" she asked, not sure if he would get what she was trying to ask.

He chuckled lightly. "Another difficult question." He sighed heavily. "I suppose I am never satisfied."

"Why's that?"

"I find I am always looking for something that is just out of reach," he said with sincerity, realizing suddenly how true it was.

"What are you doing with Sebastian?" he asked, sounding bewildered by the concept.

Katherine laughed at that, even though it was not funny. Why was she with Sebastian? Um, maybe it was because she had no choice. Maybe it was because she needed to fix this thing for the knight. But she couldn't bring herself to say either.

Instead, she said what she felt. "I belong with him," she stated, just now realizing how true it was.

Devlin felt his chest tighten in response to her words. He did not know why, he had only just met her.

"It's your turn to tell me something again."

"I will try."

"How did you know I was not Marguerite?"

He laughed. It was a short, brittle sound. "Oh, it was just a feeling, really. You two may look alike, but there are very distinct things about you that differ from her. And of course, you confirmed what I already suspected. Does he even realize you are not Marguerite?" The disdain he felt for Sebastian was evident in his voice.

Katherine thought about that for a moment and then shrugged. "I guess not."

He laughed. "I knew it."

She froze, remembering how Sebastian called her Marguerite and also remembering how she ran away. She sighed and began working the screws again. "What did you know?"

Devlin noticed her tone. "Pray forgive me, Katherine, I did not mean to upset you."

"Well, you are right. He has no idea I am not this Marguerite girl.

"You know, Katherine, you must be related to Marguerite," Devlin said offhandedly.

"Why is that?" she asked, curious.

"You two are very much alike, and not only in looks."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Let me guess, we are both in love with Sebastian?" she said with a deadpan voice and then instantly cringed. She couldn't believe she just said that.

Devlin sucked in his breath. That hurt and it had nothing to do with his leg. "No, I believe you are the only one who has those feelings towards the do-gooder."

"What then?" she asked, suddenly relieved.

"You are both indisputably unavailable."

Katherine's heart lurched a bit from the sadness behind his words. She finished releasing his arms. He fell forward, his weight pushed her back to the ground. She tried to push him off, but couldn't budge him.

He was heavier than he looked.

"Are you all right?" Devlin tried to push himself up so he would not crush her with his weight.

"Yeah, I'm good," she squeaked out, feeling his body press against her own.

The silence between them grew, his face hovered above hers, and for a brief moment, she wondered what his lips would feel like pressed against her own.

Devlin knew he could take advantage of the situation. He noticed she was not protesting and normally would have tested the waters, but after a few moments' deliberation, he decided he did not want to, at least not like this. He eased off her slowly, moaning in pain. He hated to admit to himself that it probably had more to do with his heart than his leg.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, leaning over him.

"Now I am," he said laughingly.

She moved away quickly. "Are you always such a pig?"

"Pig, as in the animal? Or pig, as in wastrel?" he replied, smiling to himself.

"I guess wastrel."

"I believe I am. A wastrel, that is," he said with conviction.

Well, at least he was honest. "Can you move?"

"Not well, why?"

"We need to get out of here." Since her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she was finally able to see a faint light off in the distance.

"You should go ahead without me." He pushed himself up to a sitting position and leaned back so his weight wasn't on his bad leg as much.

"I will not," she replied harshly. She didn't mean for it to come out so forcefully but she would not leave him alone in this stinking pit if she could help it.

Devlin smiled in the darkness. Perhaps there was some redemption left for him after all. "Well, if you are going to take that tone with me, your wish is my command."

"You have a smart mouth, you know that?"

"So I've been told," he said, not elaborating on what else he had been told his mouth was good for. "Thank you."

"For what?" She tried to stand once more. Frankly, she was surprised that she was able to stand fully without hitting something with her head. Leaning down, she grabbed him under his arms and tried to pull him up gently from the floor. It was difficult but she managed to get him up to standing.

Devlin staggered up and hopped on one foot, biting back another moan of pain as he shifted his weight. "I'm all right."

Katherine couldn't help cringing to the pain in his voice. "Who did this to you?"

"I am not sure who it was," he said, fighting another wave of pain. "There may have been more than one of them," he added in a stilted voice, gritting his teeth. "Earlier, when I was coming in and out of consciousness, I could swear I heard two people arguing with one another." He lowered his voice. "They sounded insane."

She shivered again not able to help herself. She didn't know what crazy sounded like, but she sure as hell knew firsthand what crazy looked like.

Devlin felt her shiver. He reached forward, and pulled her into his embrace, hugging her briefly.

His hug surprised her and not in a bad way either. She rested her face against his muscled chest, letting him hold her closely. He was tall, and muscular like Sebastian, but not as broad. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder.

An awkward silence filled the charged air between them.

Devlin savored the moment but then slowly disentangled himself from her, setting her away. "We better go."

Katherine swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close his body was to her own. "Yeah..." She cleared her throat and stepped forward. Wrapping her arm around his waist, she tried to hold most of his weight on her shoulders as they both made their way towards the light.

DESPERATE MEASURES

Hawthorne Manor – The Estate Grounds

THE two riders were perfectly silhouetted in the afternoon sun as they approached Hawthorne Manor.

If Sebastian were not in such a hurry, he would have stopped for a moment to admire its beauty. It was built during the Greek revival period. He always appreciated the simplicity of this house, with its understated elegance.

Ravenhurst was the opposite: huge and imposing. It seemed to him even garish at times. Especially with its gargoyles sneering down upon everyone who entered its massive doors.

Yes, this house was much more to his liking. Out back, behind the house, there was a lovely garden and the remnants of a cookhouse with a cellar underneath. It burned down at some point through the years, but he could not remember when.

The only thing that remained was the staircase leading under the ground, with a small cellar that was still used to store potatoes and such.

Sebastian reined his horse in and dismounted quickly. He ran up the front steps, lifted the knocker, slammed it down and then waited.

There was no answer.

Lifting his fist, he pounded on the door and then tried the handle. It was locked. He looked up at the windows. "Hello!" he called out.

Still, no one answered.

The hopelessness of the situation began to close in on him. Suddenly he couldn't catch a breath. He felt like he was suffocating. He ran his gloved hands over his face and leaned against the door. What was he to do now? He had no other ideas.

Milford adjusted his seat, watching Sebastian struggle with his inner demons. He had never seen him so despondent, not even when Marguerite vanished.

At the time, he seemed almost relieved she was gone. That entire situation never did set too well with Milford. And even though he did feel Sebastian deserved this in a way, especially for the callous manner in which he treated Marguerite, he couldn't help trying to alleviate some of his obvious distress.

Without thinking, he blurted out, "Perhaps we should check the trail near the ravine again?"

Suddenly there was a spark of hope in Sebastian's eyes once again.

"Yes, you are right Milford. That would make sense. We will be able to see more clearly, especially now that the storm has passed." He trotted back down the stairs, took his horse from Milford, and easily swung up into the saddle. He gave the horse a gentle squeeze with his thighs and clicked his tongue.

The horse took off.

Milford followed his lead, regretting his decision as soon as they were off.

♦

As the sun sank further into the horizon, dark shadows loomed in front of them, darkening further the closer they came to the precipice of the dreaded ravine.

Sebastian dismounted at the highest point, anchoring his horse's reins around a boulder and skated down towards the edge. He slid into a large rock that jutted up from the top. It was impossible to see the bottom of the ravine from this vantage point.

Shaking out the snow from his greatcoat, he walked back towards Milford. His boots crunched loudly on the crust of the snow as he struggled to remain upright.

Milford let out the pent-up breath he had been holding. He was relieved Sebastian had made it back in one piece. Now they could get the hell out of here and go back home. He envisioned a nice steaming cup of tea and one of cook's biscuits he had stashed away in the larder. His fantasy was short lived.

"Milford, I know what must be done," Sebastian said as he grabbed a rope from his saddle.

Milford quirked a brow at him in question. "Wh..." he swallowed hard, and then finished his sentence, "What must be done?"

"You will have to look over the edge."

Milford nearly toppled from his horse in shock. "WH—Why me?" he stammered out.

"There is no other way," Sebastian said, ignoring Milford's horrified expression. "It is just too slippery. If I try it alone, I may fall," he said as if stating the obvious.

Milford's eyes widened. "What, pray tell, is going to stop me from falling?" he asked indignantly.

"I will hold your feet," he replied easily looping the rope around his arm.

"Hold my feet!" Milford squeaked loudly. "How will we not both fall in?" he asked, his voice rising higher on each word. "And why can I not hold your feet?" he asked in a huff of air.

Sebastian frowned at him. "I am stronger than you," he said with a definitive tone, putting an end to any discussion on the subject. He walked the rest of the way up to his horse, looped part of the rope through the saddle, and then turned back towards Milford. "See, we will be tied to the horse," he said as he held the rope aloft.

"What if the horse slips as well?" Milford hedged.

Sebastian shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous, man. Now let's not dally, we are running out of light."

Milford was sick to his stomach, but he dismounted and followed Sebastian down to the ledge just the same, slipping and sliding the entire time.

"Now lay on your stomach and I will brace myself back here while you lean over the edge."

"How are you to stop me from falling in?" he asked nervously, feeling faint.

"I will be holding on to your boots."

"WH-what if they fall off my feet, they are not the best fit you know? Wait, I have a tighter pair back..." Milford never got to finish the sentence, Sebastian cut him off.

"They won't."

"How do you know?" Milford asked anxiously.

"I just know. Now come on man, we are losing the light," he repeated.

"Well, I may be losing my life, so forgive me for dawdling," Milford said, with a disgruntled tone.

Sebastian sighed heavily. "You know, you may have missed your calling...you could have been an actor. I had no idea you were so melodramatic."

Milford narrowed his eyes with indignation. "Easy for you to say," he mumbled angrily under his breath but lay down on his stomach anyway.

He looked back at Sebastian. "You do have a good hold on me, correct?"

"Yes, Milford," Sebastian sighed again.

Milford closed his eyes and said a silent prayer.

Sebastian pulled on the rope, checking the tautness and then tied it around his waist. Satisfied it was secure...he grabbed hold of Milford's ankles and began to push him forward on the ice towards the edge.

A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

Ravenhurst Dungeon

ESCAPE was in their sight. There was a light in the distance. That had to be the way out. Devlin's injury made their progress slow, but Katherine refused to leave him behind. She stopped abruptly.

Devlin's step faltered. He fell forward, groaning in pain once again.

Katherine lifted out her hand to steady him.

"Someone is coming," she whispered hotly in his ear.

Devlin grabbed hold of her shoulders and tried to push her back.

They struggled with one another until Katherine shook away from him. "Stop!"

"I will not. They are crazy. I will divert them so you may run," Devlin argued.

"I am not leaving you here."

"Yes, you must. You can get help," he urged.

"I said I am not leaving you, so just get over it already."

He tried to push her behind him.

Even though he was hurt, he was still too strong.

She gave up trying to overpower him and did the only thing she could think of to silence him. She reached forward, grabbed his face, and then kissed him soundly on the lips.

Devlin was stunned at first but quickly acclimated himself to the change of circumstance. He pressed his own lips more firmly against hers, kissing her back as he gathered her pliable body closer to his own. His tongue teased her lips until she opened her mouth for him. He delved deeper, tasting her sweetness, savoring the moment...

A shadow raced past the entrance before disappearing farther down the passageway.

The kiss was soft, sweet...absolutely perfect. Devlin pulled away.

Katherine opened her eyes, dazed.

She completely forgot what they were even doing. She almost ducked back in for another kiss before remembering where they were. She bit her lip. The kiss was not what she expected in the least. He was no Sebastian, but he did have something. That thought left her a bit unnerved.

"Sorry," she whispered lamely.

"No problem," he whispered back.

"I needed you to be quiet, so don't think there was anything to that, okay?"

"I know," he said, but smiled into the darkness nonetheless.

Katherine leaned against him again, put her arm around his waist, and began to head out towards the light.

She stopped abruptly.

Devlin groaned once more.

She cringed, hating herself for causing him undue pain. This time, instead of kissing him she lifted her finger to silence him.

There were two distinct voices echoing in the darkened tunnel. Devlin was right. She reached down and felt around for anything to use as a weapon. Her hand touched a rock and she picked it up from the dirt floor while using her other hand to keep Devlin behind her.

Devlin didn't fight her this time. He was in too much pain. Katherine pressed back against the wall until she saw the flickering torchlight pass just enough, and then she struck out with the rock with all her might.

Whatever she hit fell to the ground, thudding loudly.

Someone screamed.

Katherine jumped back against Devlin.

Devlin moaned, in agony once more.

Katherine looked at Devlin, his face ashen in the flickering firelight.

He nodded his head and squeezed hold of her hand.

She leaned around the corner.

A woman was bent over a man.

She was sobbing as she rocked him back and forth, uttering sweet words to him as she brushed his hair away from his face.

Katherine's stomach clenched at the sight. Oh, what had she done? It wasn't the Looney tune from earlier. No, this was someone altogether different.

Devlin pushed past the pain in his leg, and leaned forward, trying to see around Katherine as he listened to someone sobbing uncontrollably and proclaiming love and devotion to the room at large.

How did he know that voice? Dawning hit him like a ton of bricks. Bloody Hell, it was Isabelle!

The 'why' of what she was doing down here was not something he wanted to ponder at the moment. He was getting an earful of her declarations of love for whoever was in her lap.

Good Lord, that was quick. Wasn't she just saying the same to him? She was certainly a capricious wench. Then he remembered that was before he locked her down in her cellar. Apparently, that did not slow her much though. He leaned against the back of Katherine and peered around her shoulder, watching Isabelle coddle the man in her lap. He rolled his eyes. "My God, woman, leave off. The man is not dead."

Isabelle gasped in surprise. "Devlin!" she narrowed her eyes, "You fiend! What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"May I say the same to you?" he asked.

Isabelle finally noticed the girl beside Devlin. "Marguerite, dear child, what are you doing with him?" she asked acerbically. "I hope you know Sebastian is insane with worry. And here you are with him. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"My God, Isabelle, there you go again. Blathering on and on about that blasted do-gooder. Where is he, Isabelle, if he is so worried about her?"

"Let me guess...he is in his library trying to drink himself into a stupor. Has he finished his brandy then? And moved on to his scotch?" Devlin asked, his ire rising.

Isabelle gasped. "Devlin, you know that is a horrible thing to say about Sebastian."

"Well it's true. That is what he does, isn't it? Blames everyone but himself—the poor, tortured soul," Devlin said mockingly.

"And this is not Marguerite, Isabelle," he added for good measure.

"Devlin, you are such a liar. I know Marguerite. I am looking at her right now. What game are you playing?"

"Look again, Isabelle. Obviously, your eyes aren't what they once were, when you were younger. But of course, I wouldn't know about that, would I?" he scathed.

Isabelle visibly flinched.

Devlin's sarcasm hit its intended mark.

She ignored him. "So that is the way of it then. You are with him now?" she questioned accusingly.

Katherine watched as the woman on the floor looked her up and down, like Amelia had done, except her expression revealed a bit more loathing.

At first, she didn't know what to say. Listening to the woman and Devlin argue as though they knew one another intimately and then she turned her vehemence on her. It took a moment but she found her voice, buried somewhere under a pile of apprehension and shock.

"No, I am not with him. He is hurt. We were escaping," she tried to explain.

Isabelle looked doubtful. "Ridiculous. There is no one down here. Why are you lying for him?"

Devlin rubbed his forehead. "Isabelle, do you truly think we would be down here had that not been the case?"

"Well, with you, Devlin, one never knows," she snapped. "You did lock me in my own cellar. And if she is not Marguerite, as you say, then what did you and Judith do with her?"

"Who is Judith?" Katherine asked, looking back and forth between the two. Neither seemed to hear her, they were too busy arguing with one another.

"Where is your trollop, Devlin?" Isabelle kept on. "Oh my, Devlin, did your little whore lock you down here?" She laughed. "Now, that would certainly be poetic justice. You do so readily deserve that and more, you know?" Isabelle glared up at them both.

Katherine had lost track of their conversation. Sebastian was looking for her? Was it because he actually cared or was it because he needed a bride?

The bickering grew louder and finally Katherine couldn't take it. "Are you two kidding me with this?"

"Your leg is broken," she said, pointing down at Devlin's leg. "And you," she said, glaring at the woman named Isabelle. "The man you apparently love is passed out, bleeding. We're still stuck in a pit, and if you are not the ones that put us here, then there is still someone out there who did." When she finished her rant, they both stared at her like reprimanded children.

Devlin felt the truth of her words weighing down upon him. "You are right," he sighed.

"Isabelle, I deserve everything you have said and more." He looked at her imploringly, hoping she could see how sorry he was. "I am sorry, Isabelle. I do hope someday you will be able to forgive me," he said with sincerity. He took a deep breath, and for once the constant tightness in his chest subsided a little.

Isabelle turned her head away and wiped a stray tear from her face. She was quiet for a moment. If he hadn't put her in the cellar she would have never run off into the night. Nor would she have ever met Grayson. Could she find forgiveness in that?

She looked at Grayson once more, her heart nearly bursting with love. She took an unsteady breath. "I may not be able to forgive you for all you have done, but I will call a truce for now. Is that acceptable?"

Devlin couldn't believe it. She didn't hate him, or think he was a monster. All the contempt he felt for her began to disappear. Taking another breath, he hadn't realized how angry he was at her for the way she treated him, until this very moment. "Of course, it is all right," he supplied eagerly. "A truce then?" he asked, lifting his brow in question.

"A truce...for now," she agreed.

"I will take it," he smiled meekly at Isabelle.

Katherine let out an exasperated sigh. "Great, now that you two have cleared the air, why don't we get out of here while we still can?"

Isabelle leaned over Grayson as he started waking, moaning softly. She lifted her hand and caressed his brow. "I am going to get you out of here. Can you stand my love?" she asked, leaning down, cradling his face in her hands and kissed him lightly where his brow furrowed.

Katherine could hear Devlin mumbling behind her back and elbowed him gently in his stomach.

He gasped in mock horror, making her turn around.

Their eyes met and for a breathless moment, everything else fell away.

"I could use some help," Isabelle called out from behind, breaking the spell.

Katherine smiled at Devlin. "Can you stand alone for a moment?"

He gave her a beatific smile. "Of course, go on. Help her please, before she starts screaming." He rolled his eyes and inflated his cheeks, making a face.

"You..." she said laughingly and then stepped forward to help Isabelle.

Then they all headed out of the hellhole and into the light.

IF LOOKS COULD KILL

The Dreaded Ravine

SEBASTIAN pulled Milford back from the edge.

"I told you there was no one down there!" Milford seethed, brushing snow from his overcoat and jerking it back in place.

Sebastian leaned over and braced his hands on his knees, pulling large gulps of air into his lungs. "I had to be sure she was not down there."

Milford gave him a sidelong glare. He wasn't that damn heavy. Even if he was, it wasn't his fault...well, at least not completely. He did suggest they check for her at the ravine. However, at the time, he thought it would be a simple ride, and once Sebastian was satisfied the girl wasn't here they could turn around and go back to Ravenhurst.

Sebastian was overcome with relief at not finding her in the ravine... He did not know what he expected. In his heart, he had already given up hope. What did that say about him? Was he so afraid of being hurt that he would readily conjure up such dark thoughts? Would he truly rather kill her off in his mind than to have her leave him of her own accord?

He looked across the horizon. In another hour, the light would be gone from the sky, completely replaced by darkness. He found the same effect was happening within himself.

He straightened and turned away from the ravine, walking back towards his horse. Bending down, he untied the rope from the boulder, and fastened it back to his saddle. He looked over his shoulder at Milford. "Come on man, the light's fading fast and everything will begin to freeze again."

Milford opened his mouth and shut it again. What was the point? He climbed up the steep incline, purposefully digging his heels into the snow with each step. He didn't want to risk sliding back into the pit from hell he had just been hanging over.

Once he made it to the top, he climbed onto his horse and shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.

"Comfortable?" Sebastian asked acerbically.

Milford glared at him. "No, I am not." He fought the urge not to roll his eyes, and then clicked his reins, following Sebastian back to Ravenhurst.

ARE YOU HAPPY TO SEE ME

Ravenhurst

THE hidden door groaned in protest as the group shoved their way back into Ravenhurst's formidable walls.

Katherine was so relieved to be out of the pit, she nearly fell down on her knees and kissed the very floor she was standing on. Of course, she couldn't since she was holding Devlin up.

The house was stoically silent as they made their way through the kitchen, down the hall, and finally ended up in the library where she managed to get Devlin situated on the settee.

"He needs his leg set soon." Grayson nodded his head towards Devlin.

"Who is going to do that?" Katherine asked.

"I have some experience with that sort of thing from my time in the military. I can do it."

Isabelle cut in, "Not before I tend your wounds."

Grayson smiled at her warmly. "Your wish is my command." He extended out his hand.

Isabelle reached out, clasped his hand, and then led Grayson off to the kitchen to take care of his head.

Katherine watched them leave the room, smiling. It was hard to believe they were not man and wife. They seemed so perfect for one another.

Walking across the room to the sideboard, she lifted the bottle and poured a hefty amount of Sebastian's brandy in a glass.

She glanced over at Devlin. He had his eyes shut and his head pushed back on the cushions. Lifting her drink, she downed it in one gulp. The burn felt good this time.

Her eyes went back to Devlin. He looked so young suddenly. His sandy-blonde hair had fallen back from his face, revealing his profile. Dark lashes were in contrast to his pale complexion, casting shadows across his cheeks. She now knew firsthand that although he was thin, he also had muscle. His chest rose and fell with his breathing and as she continued to watch him and she was surprised to realize he was extremely handsome he was as well.

Her heart went out to him.

She had an overwhelming urge to protect him. The feeling made no sense—it was crazy. She should seek protection from him instead of protecting him but he seemed to be a lost soul. There was no one to look out for him, no light in his life. He needed someone to be his beacon.

Devlin adjusted his weight and closed his eyes, hoping the darkness would take him back to oblivion, but instead unanswered questions paraded through his mind. Isabelle had agreed to his truce down in the pit but what would she do now that they were not in it any longer. He knew he deserved whatever fate was meted out to him, but he was not looking forward to it. And just who exactly was this Katherine? Why did she look so much like Marguerite? Why was she here? She was just another reminder of what he could not have.

The pain he was feeling now was much worse than the pain in his leg. It would not go away...ever.

♦

A short time later, Grayson strode back into the library with Isabelle right by his side.

Devlin slanted open one eye and glanced over at them. He closed it quickly. He was not looking forward to what was about to be done to his person. He was not sure he could take it. A cool hand slid into his. He opened his eyes and stared at an angel.

"Here, drink this." Katherine handed him a glass.

Devlin took the drink and downed it, not losing sight of her lovely visage the entire time. Once he finished, he noticed Grayson looming over her shoulder and the moment vanished.

Grayson reached down and used a knife to slice open Devlin's pant leg. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it out to Devlin. "This is going to hurt," Grayson said.

And hurt it did—Devlin screamed out in agony as the excruciating pain brought the darkness upon him once again.

BETRAYAL

Ravenhurst

THE night had turned cold and bleak. The full moon seemed to be peering down on them from its lofty perch in the sky. Icicles clung to branches of trees, wanting to fall, but not quite able.

Sebastian normally found some beauty in the night's bleakness, but not tonight. Instead, a bone chilling numbness spread throughout his body, threatening to shatter his very soul.

Milford stood idly by holding the reins of his horse, waiting for Sebastian to dismount so he could take his horse to the stable with his own. Sebastian looked so forlorn in that moment. He reminded Milford of Darias, his liege, how he looked so long ago when he was battling his own demons. He shook his head and stepped forward as Sebastian finally dismounted. "I will see to the horses."

Reaching out, he took the reins from Sebastian, and led the horses away.

Sebastian climbed the stairs to Ravenhurst. The crisp air stole his breath as the weight of the day closed in on him.

A sudden earsplitting scream shattered the stillness of the night.

His heart slammed against his ribcage and he took the stairs two at time, running through the front door as quickly as his feet would carry him. He was halfway through the library doors when he came to an abrupt halt. His breath rushed from his lungs in broken gasps and his chest heaved. A sickening feeling landed in the pit of his stomach.

The woman he had been searching for was right before his eyes, not twenty feet in front of him. He took a step forward and then stopped just as suddenly. In agony he watched the woman who had tormented his thoughts lean over Devlin on the settee.

She was holding his hand.

Katherine felt him. She did not need to look to know he was there. Her heart slammed in her chest. She let her fingers slip from Devlin's grasp and stood. She kept her eyes cast to the ground, her head hanging low. She felt so ashamed, even though she really had done nothing wrong, well, except kiss Devlin. She felt sick.

"Oh thank goodness, Sebastian, you have returned safe and sound," Isabelle gushed. "And look who Grayson and I found in our search..." she trailed off.

Sebastian brushed past her and walked directly in front of the woman who was not Marguerite.

Katherine barely had a chance to turn before he was standing right there, in front of her. He was a hair's breadth away from her body. She could smell the crisp night air on him and feel the cold coming off his clothes. She stared at his snow-covered boots, not wanting to look up for fear of what she might see.

He stayed there, not moving, not saying anything.

She lifted her eyes, first to his chest, and then his chin, his lips...they were unsmiling. No dimples in sight. She forced her eyes to his and froze. He was looking at her with such intensity, she wanted to take a step back, but forced herself to stay. She knew that somehow he needed her not to move...not an inch.

Devlin moaned.

Katherine turned her head reflexively to look at Devlin, realizing instantly that she just made one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She quickly turned back to Sebastian.

The spell was broken.

She searched his eyes for some recognition of the person she saw only moments before.

He was gone. Whoever had taken his place was cold, unfeeling.

She shuddered.

A MOMENT LOST

Ravenhurst

KATHERINE found herself back in her room shortly after her encounter with Sebastian in the library. She did not have the warm, fuzzy feeling this time when she left him.

No, quite the opposite...her heart was heavy in her chest, squeezing the very air from her lungs. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Cry until all her tears were spent.

When Milford returned from the stables, he told them what transpired on their journey.

Katherine felt terrible. She had no idea they were looking for her. She also had no notion of the pain she apparently caused Sebastian. She was sorry for that as well.

Isabelle tried to make him stay, to tell him what happened, but Sebastian was having none of it.

He brushed past them all without a word, took a bottle from the sideboard, and disappeared from the room almost as quickly as he entered it.

After he left, Katherine couldn't take the questioning glances or the accusing stares. So she made her excuses and quickly ran from the library towards the only place she could go. She ran back to her borrowed room, with her borrowed necklace inside. She had somehow ruined everything. She sat heavily upon the bed and looked over to where she kept the necklace hidden... loathing it.

♦

Sebastian stepped out of the now cold bath and donned his robe. He sat in front of the fire and drank directly from the bottle he took from the library earlier.

The liquid sloshed in the bottom as he twirled the bottle in his hand. He took another long pull, welcoming the burn and then leaned his head back against the cushion. His wet hair dampened the brocade fabric but that was the least of his worries.

A throbbing pain gathered behind his eyes. Lifting his hand, he rubbed the crease between his brows. Well, at least he knew her name now. He had heard Isabelle say it name before he made his hasty exit from the room. That didn't help his mood, however. He felt like a bloody fool. Lifting the bottle, he took another long pull from the neck.

He was not only a fool but a coward as well. He would not even listen to what happened to her. He couldn't. At least not now. The mere thought of her with Devlin was wreaking havoc on his emotions.

He needed to put some distance between himself and her for a while. He didn't trust himself to be near her just yet. He was too angry.

It felt as though the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. Reaching up, he rubbed the stiffness from the back of his neck. He was suddenly so very tired. And even though he knew he had to figure out what to do now, exhaustion finally won out and he drifted off to sleep.

He dreamt of a beguiling woman with sapphire eyes. Her name was Katherine.

♦

The air was thick and heavy with steam as Katherine stepped into the bath once more. She scrubbed her body until all the filth was gone from the place where she was held with Devlin. Scrapes were on the palms and cuts were on her knees. She couldn't bring herself to climb out of the bath until the water went icy which matched her feelings perfectly. She did not bother to put on the childlike nightgown but instead slid the heavy brocade robe on with nothing underneath.

Crossing the room, she walked to the bed. Pulling the heavy blankets back, she climbed underneath.

Tears slid down her cheeks, wetting the pillow under her head. Frustrated, she rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and grabbed a different pillow. She punched it a few times and stuffed it under her head. That didn't help much. The tears still slipped from her eyes until she drifted off to sleep. Her slumber was plagued by the most unsettling dreams.

♦

Grayson, with the help of Milford and Isabelle, carried a still-unconscious Devlin into a room at the top of the stairs and settled him into the small bed that was pushed against the far wall.

"Should I stay with him," Milford inquired.

Grayson shook his head. "No, we will be in the adjoining chamber. If he awakens and needs tending, I will take care of him."

"Are you sure?" Milford suddenly felt very tired.

"Yes, quite. Now go get some rest in case I need your assistance later."

Milford backed from the room before the Duke had a change of heart. "I will be right down the hall if you need me." And with that, he was gone.

Isabelle leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. "Do you think a fever will take hold?"

Grayson placed the back of his hand on Devlin's brow. "It hasn't yet, so that is a good sign," he said as he straightened once more.

"We will leave the door ajar though, just in case." He gave Isabelle a reassuring smile, closed the distance between them, and pulled her into his embrace.

"I am not sleepy," Isabelle said, leaning back to look at his handsome face.

"I am sure I can think of something to tire you out." He lifted his brow flirtatiously.

"What of Devlin?" She smiled up at him wickedly.

Grayson chuckled and pulled her closer. He leaned forward and kissed her soundly. "I am sure he will be out for quite some time."

Grabbing her hand, he led her into the adjoining chamber. All thoughts of Devlin were quickly forgotten.

♦

Milford walked down the darkened corridors with only his thoughts for company. He could not believe how muddled everything had become.

.

SWEET MISERY

Ravenhurst

THE door slid open silently. A cool breeze wafted through the room, gliding over her naked body. Katherine shivered and tried to pull the blankets up more snugly. Her hand landed on something hard and unmoving.

Her eyes flew open.

Sebastian was lying beside her with his eyes open, staring vacantly at the ceiling above.

A knife jutted from his chest.

She screamed.

♦

Devlin's eyes snapped open.

"Katherine!" he yelled, trying to climb from the bed. Pain shot up his leg and he fell back, helpless.

"Someone, anyone, help...her!" he yelled brokenly, fighting the searing pain in his leg. His body shivered uncontrollably, making his teeth chatter. He tried to move once again but the pain overrode his good intentions.

♦

Grayson ran through the adjoining door. His hair was standing on end, his chest was bare, and his trousers were open. He had a gun in his hand.

Isabelle was right behind him, her hair in wild disarray, and her robe hung loosely about her shoulders.

"My God man, what is wrong?" Grayson demanded, turning on the lights in the room.

Devlin's eyes were wild.

"I think the fever has him," he told Isabelle.

Devlin was barely intelligible. "It's Katherine. Go check on Katherine," he said, and tried to climb from the bed once more. It was a futile attempt. He collapsed in agony.

Grayson looked questioningly at Isabelle and then brushed past her and ran into the hall towards Katherine's room.

"What is it?" she asked, trailing behind Grayson.

"I am not sure," Grayson said over his shoulder, making his way down the hall and then stopped outside of the chamber Katherine was staying in.

He reached out and tried to turn the handle.

It was locked.

"What is happening?" Milford was suddenly by his side.

Isabelle pulled her robe closed. "I don't know."

Grayson handed his gun to Milford, took a step back, and ran forward, ramming the door with his shoulder.

The door did not budge.

Milford handed the gun to Isabelle and took an unsteady breath. Then he lifted his foot and tried to kick the door, but it still would not give.

Isabelle stood away from them both, the gun in her hand, giving Grayson and Milford a wide berth. When neither was successful in opening the door, she handed the gun back to Milford, walked over to the door, and turned the handle.

It swung open easily.

Grayson and Milford looked at one another, their astonishment clear. They both looked at Isabelle.

She shrugged her shoulders and stepped aside.

Frigid air blew from the room. The sight that greeted them was not one they expected.

♦

"It was a bad dream," Sebastian said to the group of startled faces that loomed just inside the doorway. He held Katherine tightly in his arms, her body shaking from the last dregs of her nightmare.

Grayson wrapped his arm around Isabelle. "I think Sebastian has everything under control."

"I believe you may be right," she agreed and grabbed hold of his hand, letting him pull her from the room.

Milford looked down at the gun in his hand and then glanced back at Sebastian. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I think she is all right now," Sebastian said.

"I will be right down the hall if you have need of my assistance," Milford said and turned to leave.

"Milford," Sebastian called out.

Milford stopped and turned back towards Sebastian. "Yes."

"Thank you."

Milford pressed his shoulders back. "You are quite welcome, Sir." And with that, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, never once seeing the knife on the floor as it was pulled slowly back under the bed.

♦

Devlin swore under his breath and tried to adjust himself on the narrow bed. He felt completely worthless. If something untoward happened to Katherine, he would never be able to forgive himself.

It was strange, he barely knew her, but he had somehow formed a bond with her while they were down in the pit. They seemed to be kindred spirits.

His thoughts were broken by the appearance of Grayson in the doorway. "Is she..."

Grayson cut him off, "She is fine. It was merely a bad dream."

Devlin breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing his hands over his face. "Thank God."

"Have you known her long?" Grayson asked, a curious look on his face.

Devlin lowered his hands and smiled ruefully. "Actually, no I haven't but... Oh never mind. Thank you for telling me," he said sincerely.

Grayson tilted his head. "You are quite welcome," he said. Then he turned and quietly shut the door.

Lying back on the pillows, Devlin closed his eyes, but he did not find sleep.
.

A NEW DAY

Ravenhurst

KATHERINE rolled over. Bright shafts of light poured into the chamber, dispelling all gloom and taking with it the ghastly creatures that lurked around the edges of her mind—remnants from her disturbing dream. She opened her eyes. It took her a moment to remember where she was. She was not in her own room but in another room altogether.

This one had a very masculine quality to it. And then she remembered. She was in Sebastian's room.

After her horrendous dream, she couldn't shut her eyes without having a terrible feeling something awful was going to happen to Sebastian. When she had told him of her fears, he had suggested she sleep in his room.

Unfortunately, he did not sleep in the bed with her like she had hoped. No, he took the chair beside the bed and propped his feet on the bottom.

Surprisingly, she had thought it would have been a while before she fell asleep, if she could have slept at all, but once she shut her eyes, she was out.

Stretching lazily, she lifted her arms above her head. The bed was a dark reddish-brown wood, carved with lion head adornments. Reaching up, she touched one. The tooth was sharp.

Over to her left, much like her borrowed room was a large bank of windows, the curtains pulled wide apart. Crawling from the bed, she stood and looked out the windows. White wispy clouds swirled across the expanse of a blue sky. The ground was covered entirely in a fresh blanket of glistening snow that shimmered like diamonds in the sun. Small animal tracks were the only thing marring its perfection.

She turned away from the window and ran her hand over the heavy brocade fabric of the coverlet on his bed. It was a dark red color, which pulled the hazy dregs of her nightmare to the forefront of her mind, making her envision her own blankets covered in the dark wet stain of Sebastian's blood. Rubbing the chill from her arms, she quickly left the room.

Once in the hall, she shut the door and padded barefoot to her own borrowed room. Not wasting anytime, she made quick work of getting dressed and making herself presentable.

She chose another gown from the armoire. This one was a light blue color with white piping. Giving her appearance the once over in the mirror, she smoothed her hands down the front of the gown.

Dark circles loomed under her eyes, making her face look paler than usual. She pinched her cheeks, wishing for some makeup. She glanced over at the dressing table. There was some lip salve and powder but she was reluctant to use any since Ned had once told her that the Victorians actually put arsenic in face powder to make their complexions pallid. Of course, they had no idea they were slowly poisoning themselves. Thank goodness, Ned filled her in on that one.

She flipped her head upside down and flipped it back up after a few seconds. Her cheeks were flamed red. Well it was better than nothing.

Katherine grabbed up her skirts and quickly left the room. Sconces flickered eerily on the wall as she hurried past several closed doors, giving them a wide berth. She was afraid Crazy was hiding behind one, waiting to do her in. One lone door stood open at the end of the hall, near the stairway. Unable to resist, she peered inside.

The room was small, but pretty, done in light shades with floral accents. A narrow bed was pushed against the far wall. Devlin was lying in the middle with his eyes closed. His leg was propped on a stack of pillows.

He looked uncomfortable.

She stood in the doorway, wanting to ask if he needed anything, but was suddenly unsure if she should. She did not want to ruin what strides she had made with Sebastian. The last thing she needed was for him to see her and assume the worst.

Still, she couldn't quite turn away either. He seemed so...alone...vulnerable.

Devlin cracked one eye open. He felt her standing there. "Good morning," he said cheerily.

"Oh!" Startled, Katherine jumped, banging her elbow on the doorframe.

"Are you all right?" he asked, a smile brightening his face.

"Yes," she sighed and rubbed the sore spot. "How are you?"

"I feel much better... now." He gave her a rakish smile.

Color bloomed to her cheeks. "I am relieved to hear that."

"You know, you may come in. I promise I will not bite," he said, raising his brow flirtatiously.

Katherine hugged the doorframe. "I would... but, uh...I really should get downstairs and eat."

He smiled a knowing smile. "Famished are we?"

Katherine blinked and then made a face. She was so busted. What a stupid thing to say, obviously he knew she was lying. "Uh..."

"It's all right Katherine. You need to eat. Go on."

She felt terrible. He knew she was lying. "I can get you something. I mean, that is what I was going to do..." She cringed. She could tell by the look on his face he knew exactly what she was doing. She was running away from him because she was afraid Sebastian would catch her with him and assume the worst. She was being ridiculous.

"I understand," he said with meaning.

"I will be back shortly. I promise," she said with sincerity. "Is there anything you need before I go?"

"A glass of water would be nice," he said and glanced over at the pitcher on the bedside table.

Katherine peered over her shoulder down the hall and then down the stairs.

The coast was clear.

Rushing into the room, she quickly grabbed up the heavy cut glass pitcher, and poured a glass of water. Water sloshed over the rim of the glass as she shakily held it out for him.

A pained look crossed his face. He could not seem to extend his arm far enough to grasp the glass.

"Let me help you." She moved closer to the bed and put the glass to his lips. He could not seem to lift his head either. She had to wonder at his sudden weakness, since she could swear his head was lifted just fine moments before. Placing her hand behind his head, she helped him drink.

Devlin sipped the water slowly, his heavy lidded gaze locking on hers over the rim.

A rush of heat flamed her face again under his close perusal. She began to feel antsy. The room was closing in on her as images of their shared kiss flitted into her mind, making her stomach flip over on itself.

Devlin seemed to take an exceedingly long time to drink his fill. Once he finished daintily drinking up every last drop of water, she put the glass back on the bedside table, and turned to flee the room.

She pulled up short.

Sebastian leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her every move.

She gulped reflexively, her heart lurching in her chest at the expression on his face. It would seem luck was not with her this time, either.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything?" he said tonelessly.

"No. Not at all," she squeaked out in a pitch too high. She felt like she was caught doing something bad instead of merely helping an invalid drink some water. Of course, the invalid was the same man she had kissed the evening before. Double crap.

"I was just giving Devlin some water. He was thirsty and not able to get it himself," she explained further, sounding guilty even to her own ears.

"Devlin how is your leg?" Sebastian asked, pushing off the doorframe. "Funny, I was not aware your arms were broken as well," he added with an icy edge.

Devlin settled back on the pillows. "How astute of you," he said with a smirk. "You are right, my arms are not broken, but sudden movements do cause me undue pain."

"How thoughtless of me," Sebastian added in feigned concern. "Would you like me to help you with anything?"

"No, Katherine has already helped me," Devlin said sweetly.

Katherine darted her eyes back and forth between the two. "Oh my, I am starving. Is there any food downstairs?"

"I believe there are a few biscuits left in the kitchen."

Katherine felt so guilty she couldn't stand it. "Well, I will um, go get one, if that is all right?"

"I say, a biscuit sounds appetizing. Might I have one as well?" Devlin piped in.

"If there are any left after Katherine has eaten," Sebastian answered.

"Of course there will be some left," she said defensively. "I will bring you one up directly," she told Devlin and walked over to the door.

Sebastian blocked her way out. "No, you won't," he said, grasping her arm.

"Yes, I will, he is hurt." Katherine shook his hand loose and pushed past him. The bottom of her skirts rustled against the stairs as she quickly descended them and made her way towards the kitchen.

The smell of fresh coffee hit her as soon as she opened the door. There was no one inside the quaint room. A pot of coffee sat in the center of a serviceable wooden table with delicate porcelain cups and a small plate of biscuits beside it.

Katherine poured coffee in one of the cups and held it between her frozen fingers. She sipped the contents, wishing for cream and sugar and then grabbed one of the biscuits. She took a bite. Just like last time, it was dry and didn't have much taste, but it was better than nothing. She took another sip of her coffee to wash it down.

Once finished, she set the cup back on the table and went to look for a tray to carry a cup of coffee and biscuit back to Devlin. She didn't care if Sebastian got mad or not. He didn't own her.

What was with Victorian men?

Better question to self, what was with all men? Janice always said the reason Katherine never had dates was because she was too accessible. She said she might as well have a neon sign hanging over her head, flashing that she was desperate for a date and that was why no one asked her out.

Janice was big on analogies. She said Katherine's restaurant parking lot was empty whereas Janice's lot was always full with a line of men out front, clamoring to get inside.

It was true.

Janice always had a date but Katherine had always assumed it was because the doors to Janice's restaurant tended to stay propped open all night.

She inflated her cheeks and blew out a long slow shaky breath.

Now she had a dilemma. It looked like she had more than one car in her lot with two very different men clamoring to get inside. The problem was she didn't think either one was interested in buying the meal.

She laughed out loud and shook her head.

Good lord, what was she thinking? There was too much talk about savory meals and restaurants. And since when did people start using food analogies to describe sex? Thinking about that made her realize she was suddenly starving. She wasn't sure it was from all the food analogies or if it was because she was actually hungry. She eyed the last biscuit, tempted to take another nibble, but forced herself to get a plate from the cupboard instead.

Crossing the room, she opened several cabinets, looking for a small tray. She finally found one. It was not very large, but certainly big enough to carry a cup of coffee and a biscuit. She poured another cup of coffee and set it in the middle of the tray beside the small saucer that held the remaining biscuit.

It was not much of a breakfast, but at least it was something. It would have to do for the moment. Katherine bumped her hip against the door, holding the tray as she made her way slowly out of the kitchen, trying not to spill the coffee.

Once in the hall, she screeched to a halt. The coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup and onto the little plate.

Sebastian was at the bottom of the stairs speaking in hushed tones to Milford.

She was about to turn around and go back in the kitchen but Milford spotted her and lifted his brows, making Sebastian turn and look at her over his shoulder.

Katherine took another step and promptly stumbled forward.

Sebastian was beside her in an instant, saving the tray from tumbling to the floor.

She looked up into his eyes and froze. She couldn't catch her breath. Would it always be this way? she wondered.

He held tightly to her arm and singlehandedly handed the tray off to Milford. "Take this to Devlin, please."

"Of course." Milford looked worriedly over at Katherine.

Katherine gulped. The way Milford looked at her, she knew this wasn't going to be good.

"We need to talk," Sebastian said, guiding her towards the library.

Katherine followed him. He didn't really leave her any choice.

"Sit down, please."

Katherine plopped down into the chair. Nervously, she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt, and then began plucking at the fabric. She chanced a look at his face and realized he did not look happy. His jaw was tense.

She couldn't help wondering what she did wrong this time. He seriously could not be angry because she got Devlin some food, could he? Her stomach flipped over on itself. She felt incredibly self-conscious.

He took the chair opposite from hers and focused his gaze directly on her.

She looked down and picked at her fingernail, fidgeting. She wanted to scream...Stop looking at me, but she said nothing.

Finally, she couldn't take his empty stare any longer and turned towards the fire.

Sebastian crossed one leg over the other and rubbed his knee absently, scrutinizing her. She turned away from him, watching the fire with a faraway look on her face.

He wondered what she was thinking. Was she trying to spin more lies to tell him? His heart tightened at the thought. He noticed her eyes were swollen from her tears the evening before. But she still looked beautiful. He caught her glancing over at him like a nervous child, waiting to be punished for some wrongful deed. He smiled a bit, not able to help himself and decided to get this over with, sooner rather than later.

Clearing his throat, he leaned forward. "Well, would you like to tell me who you are?"

Katherine's throat constricted and her eyes widened. "Who am I?" This was not the conversation she wanted to have right now, or ever, for that matter.

"Yes, who are you?" He braced his arms on his thighs and clasped his hands.

"I am not Marguerite," she mumbled just above a whisper. She had a sudden urge to run from the room but she was sure he would stop her if she tried. Visions of him tackling her to the ground flew into her mind.

"I know," he responded in a deadpan voice.

"You do?" Her eyes flew to his. She instantly regretted it. His face was hard, unyielding. "My name is Katherine."

"I know that as well," he stated simply.

"You do?" Her eyes flashed to his once more. Again, she saw nothing. His face was an unreadable mask. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage. Was she to tell him everything? Or just the parts she thought he would believe? Suddenly, she found it hard to take a full breath. She felt like she was suffocating. She tried to take another deep breath but it wasn't helping. She still could not get enough air into her lungs. Freaking out, she jumped from the chair.

He stood quickly as well.

Visions of him tackling her to the ground ran through her mind once more. She laughed out loud. It wasn't a pretty laugh. It was filled with derision and defeat.

He took a step forward.

She lifted her hand to stay him, and instead, walked over to the sideboard. Lifting the heavy crystal decanter, she poured a glass. In one gulp, she tossed back the contents. It burned all the way down. She didn't care. She glanced over her shoulder. He was still watching her every move.

Well, she thought darkly, if he wanted to watch, she might as well give him something to see, so she refilled the glass and drank another down for good measure.

Once she finished, she set the heavy glass down and turned to face him. She gave him a small smile, and extended her arm towards the chair. "Please take a seat. This may take a while."

Never taking his eyes from her, he moved back in front of the chair he had been sitting in and sat back down.

Katherine dragged her feet against the carpet, making her way slowly back across the room and then sat heavily into the opposite chair. She felt sick. This was not going to be easy. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem." He rested his ankle on his knee and leaned back into the chair.

Katherine waited. She was hoping Milford would show up and cause a scene like before. But there was no sign of him. Apparently, she had to wing this on her own. Damn the man.

Nervously, she cleared her throat.

"Um...uh...you stated earlier you know I am not Marguerite. And you are aware that my real name is Katherine?"

"Yes."

"So, I guess I will just start from the beginning."

"That would seem to be the most sensible solution," he said in agreement.

She inflated her cheeks and blew out another stream of air. "This isn't as easy as I thought it would be."

"The truth never is."

"Right, well, as I said before when I first met you here the other day. Well, what I said was true. I was here with another man, but not like a date or anything, we both worked at the same place and there was a party here."

"Go on," he urged, his jaw starting to tense again.

"Anyway, I know this is going to sound really out there but I borrowed this necklace from my work and came to a party, or you would call it a soiree, I guess. Anyway, I somehow ended up in this time, here, not my time, here. Are you following me?"

"I am trying to."

Katherine could see the confusion on his face but plodded onward. "Anyway, I came here but it was uh..."

"Yes, you said you came here already. So you are here and then what happened?"

"Well, I drank too much and at some point I must have passed out and when I woke up I was here, in this time, with you."

"Yes you already said you were here." He frowned.

"You're not listening," she complained.

"Yes I am," he sounded exasperated.

"Well you aren't getting what I am trying to tell you."

"You're not telling me anything."

Her cheeks flamed. She was getting tired of beating around the bush. "You are not listening to me," she complained, repeating herself again.

"I am listening, Marguerite...uh... I mean. Oh bloody hell, what is your name?"

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Katherine. My name is Katherine," she said the last on a whisper. Her name hung in the air as hot tears filled the rims of her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. She brushed them away with her fingertips.

"I traveled back in time," she nearly yelled. Once the words were out of her mouth, there was no going back.

He stared at her in disbelief. Lifting his hand to his ear he pressed his finger against it. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you just say you traveled back in time?"

"Yes." She sniffed and then laughed a little. It came out sounding strained and forced. "See why I didn't want to tell you. You think I am crazy, don't you?"

Why yes, yes I do. He didn't say that out loud though. "Why are you here?"

She sniffed back her tears again. "Oh, apparently I have to fix some wrong done to a knight or by a knight. I don't know. The story is a little out there." The damn broke and she began to cry in earnest.

The story is a little out there. "You what?"

"I said..."

He dashed his hand through the air, cutting her off. "Bloody hell!" he exhaled shakily. Apparently, she was a raving lunatic, spouting gibberish about traveling into the past from the future for some knight.

Sebastian blinked a few times. He ran his hands back and forth over his thighs and then stood. He gave her another look of incredulous disbelief and then started pacing back and forth in front of the fire.

♦

Milford stood in a darkened corner of the room. He snuck in unnoticed while Katherine was pouring the liquid courage down her throat, again. He could see things were not going as well as he hoped. Sebastian's look of disbelief was apparent. Would he think she was insane?

The story Milford relayed to Katherine was far more a curse than a legend. His heart went out to her as she started to cry softly. He forced himself to stay hidden, knowing if he interfered now, his true liege's soul would be forever lost to the darkness.

♦

It took Sebastian three glasses of his finest and a good deal of time pacing back and forth before he could finally make himself sit back down in front of her once more. He was trying his best to absorb the fantastic tale she was relaying to him while he continued to pace. He stopped a few times and gawked at her, unable to find words. He was not sure how to respond. He had a terrible time trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying. Her tears flowed freely from her eyes, maybe too freely.

He knew many women used tears to wrap lesser men around their fingers. He was not one of those men, or so he told himself.

♦

Katherine wiped her tears away, hiccupping. She lifted her tear soaked face to his. "So, you see how difficult this has been for me?" she asked, sniffing loudly, trying to keep from crying again.

"How can I fix something I have no real knowledge of?"

Sebastian still had no words. He watched her struggling and his heart felt heavy. He wanted to believe what she told him, he really did. His mind, however, couldn't quite grasp hold of it. What she was saying was complete and utter insanity. There was no wiggle room there. He did not want to believe that though, not now, not ever. What in the hell was he to do? Send her off to Bedlam? Believe her? Which was worse?

He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to find answers to the many questions spiraling through his mind. He had none.

They both sat in silence.

♦

Devlin could hear her cries wafting up from below. He wanted to give Katherine some sort of comfort. He knew the clod, Sebastian, was probably passing judgment on her at this very instant. He was helpless to do anything. Grayson made sure of that.

Devlin tried to climb from the bed earlier, but as soon as his foot hit the floor, Grayson was in the doorway, watching him. Although Grayson did not say a word, Devlin knew he couldn't interfere, so he simply closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the pillows until he could no longer hear her cries. For that, he was grateful.

♦

Grayson pushed off from the door when her cries had finally faded away and went to join Isabelle in the connecting room.

Isabelle's face told Grayson that she was keeping her own set of secrets at bay. He only hoped in time, she would choose to reveal them to him, and let him help carry the burden.

♦

Sebastian was not sure how much time had passed. He rubbed his hand over his forehead, listening to her hiccup and sniffle. She sounded pitiful. He searched his brain, trying to find a plausible explanation for all she told him.

Obviously, she believed what she was saying. His mind was shouting, it could not be so, but his heart told him something very different.

He knew some things were real, even though you could not see them. He was aware of many such wonders he'd had to accept in life thus far.

Had someone told him of the possibility of steam engines as a form of transportation a hundred years ago, would he have thought them insane as well?

Yes, he admitted to himself, he probably would.

So that being the case, if this was something that happens in say, another hundred years, could it mean what she told him may very well be possible too?

His heart thought so.

His mind did not.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was staring at the floor, but slowly, she lifted her eyes to his. Her blue eyes glistened with more unshed tears and time was forgotten for a breathless moment as his heart battled his mind. He was torn in two: part of him wanted to believe her, but the sensible part balked at the absurdity of it all.

In the end, did it really matter what he believed?

Something gave inside.

A part of the wall he had built so firmly around his heart crumbled. A part of him wanted to believe her, no matter how insane she sounded. He might possibly be sealing his own fate. It didn't matter. It felt, for lack of a better word...right.

He stood then and reached out, pulling her up from the chair. The top of her head barely reached the top of his shoulder as he lifted his hand and pressed her face against his chest. He held her tightly in his embrace.

Leaning back, he looked at her. Her face was wet with the tears she had cried. He lifted his hands and used his thumbs to brush them away.

"I don't think..." He stared down at her, his stormy gray eyes filled with uncertainty and something else.

"It's okay." She cast her eyes down to his chest, the once pristine fabric now splotched with wetness from her tears. She let out a shaky breath, waiting for the inevitable...

Sebastian slid his thumb over the pillowy softness of her lips and finally gave up trying to figure everything out now. It would come in time...or not. Right now, he didn't care. Instead of thinking, he gave his heart full reign—for once, he would take a chance on fate.

Leaning down, he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her with all the pent-up emotions he was feeling. He tasted the saltiness from her tears and pulled her even closer. Her body melded perfectly to his own as if she belonged there.

They stayed wrapped in each other's embrace, holding onto one another as if their lives depended on it.

♦

A small smile tugged at the corners of Milford's mouth. It was bittersweet.

He slipped from the room as quietly as he had entered it.

♦

The room was now empty except for Katherine and Sebastian. It was as it should be...as if he, Milford, had never been there in the first place.
.

YOU SHOULDN'T PLAY WITH FIRE

Ravenhurst

KATHERINE emitted a breathy sigh and peeled off the gown she had been wearing earlier for "the conversation" in the library. She still couldn't believe it had gone as well as it did.

Sebastian, after his initial shock, had seemed to take the story she told him in stride. She wasn't sure she would have been as receptive if she was in his shoes. She would have thought she was a hop, skip, and a jump away from Crazyville. But he had held her, kissed her, and made her feel like he truly wanted to believe what she told him.

Things were looking up.

At least he didn't kick her out of the house, or worse, lock her back down in the disgusting dungeon.

She glanced out of the window. It was already dark and she was supposed to be getting ready for dinner. Food was the last thing on her mind right now though. She lifted her fingertips and touched her lips. They still felt swollen and tender from his kisses. She lowered her hand, stepped out of the gown, and tossed it on the chair on top of the plaid one she had been wearing in the black hole.

It was a good thing Marguerite had so many gowns or she would have been stuck wearing the same thing again. She glanced over toward the bureau, wondering why he never asked to see the infamous necklace. It was just as well. She hoped he never would ask.

She walked over to the armoire, checking to see if it was still against the wall.

It was.

She looked behind the curtains and under the bed as well, just in case the crazed woman found another way in. She was positive that was who was in her room that first day and couldn't help but wonder what she wanted. Did crazy people need reasons for doing crazy things? Somehow, the topic of the woman in question didn't come up, which was strange as well. She supposed that was going to be a topic for discussion once everyone was together in one room again. At least, she assumed they would, since they would need to compare stories to try to figure out who the woman was, or at the very least, what she wanted.

Devlin mentioned there were at least two. She only saw one. So where was the other person?

Katherine shook her head, not finding any answers. She guessed that was something she would need to figure out later, after she got ready.

Opening one of the drawers in the bureau, she pulled out another chemise. A cold gust of air skittered across the room. She looked over her shoulder towards the armoire. It still had the poker wedged underneath. Still, she couldn't quite shake the eerie feeling she had. Just in case, she ran over into the bathroom, and locked herself inside.

Fifteen minutes later, she unlocked the door and peered out into her borrowed room. The further she pushed open the door the louder it creaked. Note to self: Bring a weapon in the damn bathroom next time.

Luckily, no one was in the room, but she still moved pretty fast, making a dash for the armoire.

Once in front, she pulled open the door, grabbed the first gown she laid her fingers on, and ran back to the bathroom, locking herself inside once more.

She looked at the dress in her hands. Typical. It was an ugly green color with little leaves sewn onto the neckline and sleeves. It was far from pretty, but right now, she didn't care.

Once she was all buttoned up, she felt much better. At least, she was warm, clean, and clothed.

Again, she cautiously opened the door and peeked out.

The room was empty.

"Stop being ridiculous." She gave herself a good shake and walked over to the dressing table and picked up Marguerite's lip salve. Hesitating, she twisted the metal lid back and forth. Did this have some lethal ingredient in it as well, like the powder...?

She just wasn't sure.

Instead of using it, she chucked it back on the dressing table and picked up the brush and dragged it through her hair. That didn't work out as well as she hoped—the bristles were too soft.

Giving up, she set the brush back down and walked back over to the bureau. She pulled open the drawer with the ribbons. Digging around inside, she found one that semi-matched the gown she was wearing and then shut the drawer.

Pulling her hair up off her neck, she walked back to the dressing table. She looped the ribbon around her hair and tied a big bow on the top.

"Stupid!" She yanked out the ribbon and smoothed down her hair again with her hands.

Chewing on her lip, she frowned. Her hair didn't look great down but it was better than with the little- kid ribbon. The gown, even though she had thought it ugly moments before, did have some definite perks. It made her waist look impressively small and gave her boobs a good lift, making them appear more substantial than they really were. The color wasn't as bad as she originally thought either. It made her coloring look pretty good, even though she would have preferred to forgo the gown in exchange for some nice comfy sweats. Sweats would have been awesome but then again sweats were your enemy if you were trying to lose weight. The damn things gave too much.

At least with jeans they squeezed your belly if you tried to eat too much. Thinking about twentieth century clothing or lack thereof made her think of her skinnier twin Marguerite. She wondered how she was faring after her encounter with Jack.

Every time she thought about what she may have done to her accidentally, it gave her the willies, even though it could have been so much worse.

Or would it have been?

Did she really have the ability to move Marguerite through time? Or was it just a coincidence?

Her eyes slid over to the bureau...and then over to the clock...she had time. Should she try again just to see if she could really send her places? Of course, she would make sure she was careful this time and not think of anything gruesome. Yes, that would work, she told herself.

Before she could change her mind, she leaned down, opened the drawer, and pulled out the amulet. She held the chain in the folds of her gown and walked over to the door. She opened it just enough so she would be able to hear if someone was coming down the hall to get her for dinner.

Once she adjusted the door to her satisfaction, she walked back over to the fireplace and sat down in one of the chairs. She cleared her mind and placed her hand on top of the stone, concentrating only on Marguerite.

Instantly, a sharp jolt shot up her arm and like before, a flash of white stole her sight. As her vision cleared, she was once again a spectator in another time...

FLASH ♦ NEW YORK CITY ♦ PRESENT DAY

Marguerite paced back and forth across the expanse of the high-rise apartment. She was wearing a new pair of pajamas, her long wet hair hanging down her back. She sat down on the patterned carpet abruptly and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She rested her chin on her knees, staring off into space, her expression forlorn.

Why was she on the floor? Katherine was instantly irritated. There was a rather nice looking sofa with tons of pillows piled on the top. "Oh come on, sit on the damn sofa," she complained aloud.

Marguerite jerked her face up, looking around her sumptuous apartment, and scrambled to her feet, looking about frantically and then she ran over and sat on the edge of the sofa.

Hmm, interesting. Katherine wondered if she actually heard her or was it simply another coincidence.

Well, that really did not prove anything, she thought. Then she saw a book on the coffee table, and without really thinking about what she was doing, she focused on the book. It was entitled The French Revolution: The Downfall of a Monarchy. She instantly remembered the rumor spread about Marie Antoinette. "Let them eat cake," it was a terrible thing to say to people who were starving...

Katherine had always wondered if the saying were actually true or merely a rumor. She guessed no one would ever know for sure. The scene jiggled and then blurred out of focus. She couldn't see anything and then another tingling shock slid up her arm, jolting her.

A door slammed in the distance.

Shit.

Someone was walking down the hall.

Katherine dropped the necklace, ripping her mind back to the present, and stood. She ran over to the door and poked her head out. Eerie shadows slid down the walls, growing in length with the darkness. Straining her ears, she waited for a sound or movement. There was none. Huh? She pulled her head back in her room and rubbed her arms to ward off the chill. "Damn this place sure is creepy at night."

Well, it was actually creepy all the time, but at night, it was even creepier. She ran her hands absently down the length of the gown. She wondered what was taking Sebastian so long to get her. She looked back at the clock. It was seven thirty. Oh well, maybe he got tied up doing something. She paced back and forth for a minute debating whether to go downstairs alone and then remembered the necklace.

Oh no!

She ran back across the room and picked it up off the floor. As soon as she wrapped her fingers around the stone, her mind flashed to another place, making her once again a spectator in another time.

FLASH ♦October 16, 1793, Place de la Concorde

Early morning mist clung to the earth like a shroud. In the distance was the outline of a massive structure, and in front of it was a guillotine. Its ropes tethered at the side, the blade shone brightly, glinting in the early morning sun.

A crowd of filthy people gathered down at the base of the structure...waiting.

Katherine lifted her hand to shield her eyes against the morning light.

A shadowy form climbed the stairs. The heavy thud of footsteps on the wooden planks vibrated in her ears. A shiver of dread swept over her as a huge man wearing a black hood came up, dragging his hapless victim by a rope, their arms tied behind their back with a dark cloth covering their face.

The crowd jeered as the man pulled the cloth away revealing a woman. Her dark hair was tangled with dirt and filth and covered most of her face. The executioner pushed her down to her knees and pressed her forward, until her neck lay inside the blood-soaked groove of the guillotine.

The girl gazed listlessly at the screaming crowd below.

Katherine's heart thumped against her ribcage as a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Whoever she was, she seemed to be in full acceptance of her fate.

Indignation filled her. What could have possibly happened to a person to make her not want to struggle to breathe for at least one moment more? How could she give up so easily? Although she was appalled by what she was seeing, she could not look away.

The girl lifted her face once more, her neck covered in blood, dripping down its length as she cast her eyes towards the sky.

Katherine suddenly realized who was about to be decapitated. Covering her mouth with her hand, she felt like she was going to pass out or be sick, she didn't know which. Her mind reeled, the girl about to get her head separated from her body was, is...Marguerite. She was still wearing her fancy pajamas and staring right at Katherine.

"OH MY GOD!"

Oh no! No, no, not her, not here!

Katherine squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sight and force another one in her mind instead. She tried to envision the apartment, the one Marguerite was in before she sent her to get her head chopped off. She stomped her feet against the floor while squeezing the stone as hard as she could. Her fingers burned, she didn't care. She shook the necklace. "Why aren't you working?"

The blade glinted in the sun, and the executioner was about to release the rope.

The crowd jeered louder.

"Oh Good Lord, please, NO!"

Katherine pressed her mind as hard as she could, but the morbidity of the situation was foremost in her mind, making her panic. She could not grasp anything tangible. Random things flitted through her mind.

The executioner released the blade.

Katherine tried again, straining to envision the sumptuous décor, the rug. She held her breath. Another flash came and she staggered backward from the force. Her head felt like it was going to split in two. Finally, she opened her eyes once more.

"Thank God!" she breathed in relief and dropped to her knees, covering her face with her hands.

She opened her eyes again, and again Marguerite was back in the apartment, but this time she was screaming at the top of her lungs. The sound hurt her ears, but she didn't care. At least it was better than the alternative. Tears slid down Katherine's face as Marguerite stormed through the apartment, yelling to no one in particular, shaking her fist in the air, covered from head to toe in filth and blood.

Of course, Katherine could not make out all of what she was saying, but she had a good idea. She had a feeling Marguerite was going to look at her any minute now and accuse Katherine of sending her to hell...again. This really wasn't too far off the mark.

"I am so sorry," Katherine whispered and released the necklace.

The vision dissolved.

That was it.

Katherine kept every thought from her mind and ran the amulet back to the bureau, tossed it inside, and kicked the drawer closed. She backed away, wrapping her arms around herself. Her body shook uncontrollably.

"Holy Shit"!

"I almost killed Marguerite...again."

THIS TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE

Ravenhurst

AFTER the necklace debacle, Katherine decided it was best not to be left alone for a while. Apparently, she couldn't be trusted to her own devices. This was two times now that she had almost killed Marguerite.

Obviously, she had her answer now. She could send the poor girl through time. This knowledge should have eased her mind a bit, but no, it made her even more afraid to be alone. She didn't trust herself not to do something else stupid, so she decided to go downstairs whether anyone would be there or not.

With her skirts held firmly in her grasp, she took off down the hall and did not bother to slow down when she hit the stairs.

Once at the bottom she made a hard right and nearly took down one of the gargoyles in the process.

"Damn it, Joey, stay put," she whispered fiercely. Joey was the name she dubbed the gargoyle to make it seem less threatening.

The massive doors of the library stood open, and as she walked closer she could hear voices. She stopped just outside the doors. Everyone was already there. Isabelle and Grayson were talking quietly in a far corner of the room.

Obviously, they were in love. They couldn't keep their hands off one another. She instantly wished Sebastian acted the same towards her...and then her gaze settled on Sebastian. Her stomach flipped over on itself and she pressed against it with her hand.

He was leaning on the mantel, gazing into the flames, his profile even more handsome than she remembered. She wished she knew how he felt about the story she told him, or how he felt about her. Everything was such a mess.

Devlin was sitting up on the settee with his leg propped up. He turned and once he saw her, he gave her a big, broad smile.

A rush of heat climb to her face as she instinctively smiled back at him. She was so relieved he was not in pain any longer. There was something about him that made her instantly feel more at ease. She wasn't sure if it was his boyish charm or something altogether different.

Prickles of awareness made her pull her gaze from Devlin. Sebastian was looking directly at her with an unreadable expression on his gorgeous face.

Damn! She was busted, again.

A wave of dread passed over her. Sebastian did not look happy, not one bit. She finally cast her eyes to the carpet, not able to take another minute of his unrelenting stare.

Sebastian pressed the tip of his finger onto his brow and rubbed the crease between his eyes. What in the hell was between them? Oh, he had seen that little exchange. He felt the all too familiar sting and his blood began to boil. He was pissed and rightly so. It was the same song and dance with Devlin and Marguerite. The way her eyes followed Devlin as she watched him from afar. Sebastian ignored it, or tried to. Was he a fool all along? Was there something between Marguerite and Devlin, and was he trying to woo Katherine now as well?

Sebastian had to shake himself. He was being bloody ridiculous. If he did not watch himself, he would end up pushing her directly into Devlin's waiting arms. That was not an option.

He pushed off the mantel, closing the distance between them quickly, and stopped directly in front of her.

Katherine held her ground, not moving an inch as he slipped his finger gently under her chin, lifting it upward. She slowly raised her eyes to his, the stormy depths pulling her further in with every second that ticked by. She didn't know what to expect. She wasn't sure if he was mad or happy...

Then he smiled. It was brief, but enough to flash his irresistible dimples.

Sebastian leaned towards her, watching her lashes flutter downward. He wanted to kiss her, taste her, but he wanted her to look at him...see him. He leaned forward...

Katherine knew without a doubt he was going to kiss her. She waited expectantly...and waited...and waited...and then he...kissed her forehead.

What kind of buildup was that? Crap. It was crap. She felt stupid and deflated all at the same time.

Sebastian watched her face ignite. Her eyes were nearly crossed, she was so upset, and yes, it made him feel so much better. He was glad he did that. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

Leaning forward, he lifted his hand to push a piece of her hair off her shoulder. "What took you so long?"

"What took me so long?" Her entire body tensed again. Hmm, I was sending Marguerite, your real betrothed, off to the guillotine...

Nope, wouldn't say that.

Maybe she should say, waiting for you, which she was, because he told her to...but she said neither.

Instead, she simply shrugged her shoulders indifferently, trying to act nonchalant, which didn't work either.

Sebastian lifted his hand and trailed his fingers down the front of her gown.

She shivered. It felt delicious. Leaning forward she tried to get closer. The urge to rub her hands over his muscled chest was almost overwhelming. He looked even better than he did earlier. His muscles strained under the pristine fabric of his white shirt. Chewing on her bottom lip, she wondered what he would look like without his shirt.

"Ahem." Someone cleared his or her throat loudly.

Her fantasy skidded to a halt. Cringing with embarrassment, she remembered they were not alone and deliberately took a step back, her face flaming red. Still her eyes quickly drifted back to his fine form.

Sebastian angled his body to block the others in the room. "Careful love, if you keep that up I may have to take you right back up those stairs and have my way with you.

Katherine's eyes jumped to his gorgeous face.

Sebastian's features were schooled. "Would you care for a drink before we start?"

"Huh?"

He laughed and lifted his hand to touch her cheek and then absently dropped it back to his side. "I asked if you would care for a drink."

She exhaled and lifted her shaking hand to brush a wayward curl from her face. "Yes, I would love you, I mean, uh, thank you."

Sebastian froze.

Did she just say...I would love you? Surely, it was a mix of words, she meant nothing by them, and yet he couldn't stop the warm feeling from invading his heart, making the wall crumble just a bit more. He was wary though, he couldn't be sure what kind of game she was playing. At times, she seemed so young, utterly clueless to the effect she had on him. He had to wonder which was true. Either way, he wanted to test that notion just a bit more.

Reaching out, he took her elbow.

"Say, de Winter, I'll take one as well," Devlin called out.

Sebastian clenched his jaw and released her arm. "I did not ask you." Another wave of tension assailed his shoulder blades as the familiar voice of his Aunt cut in, giving her unwelcome opinion on the matter.

"Now dear, he is injured," she said, reminding Sebastian, as if he could forget.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Fine." He leaned forward. "We will continue this conversation later."

Seeing no other alternative, Katherine crossed the room and sat down in the chair facing the settee. She tried not to look at Devlin, but he was right in front of her. The last thing she needed was to get caught smiling at Devlin again. But staring into the fire made her drowsy. Lifting her eyes, she ended up looking directly at Devlin anyway.

His head was turned and he was smirking at Sebastian's back, like a spoiled little kid.

She had a sudden urge to laugh, but pushed it down. That wouldn't do well for her or Devlin if she started laughing. Devlin was pushing his luck though. He was at Sebastian's mercy now and he should really be careful not to try his patience.

Devlin tore his gaze from Sebastian's back, seeing no use in tossing eye daggers any longer. Besides, his shoulders were growing before his very eyes. The last thing Devlin needed was to look at Sebastian's incredible physique. He turned his head, and smiled at Katherine.

She was giving him an incredulous stare.

Devlin adjusted himself on the settee, trying to ignore the look she was giving him, like he was ungrateful, or something comparable. Therefore, he did the only thing he could think of, he shrugged his shoulders indifferently and crossed his arms over his chest, letting her know he could care less, even though he kind-of did.

A hand holding a glass blocked her silent exchange with Devlin.

She jerked her eyes up to see Sebastian's unsmiling face. "Thank you." She took the glass, smiling sweetly.

He ignored her and walked directly over to Devlin and held out the other glass.

"Thank you." Devlin reached for the glass.

Sebastian released the drink before he could grab hold.

Devlin was quicker. He snatched the glass from the air, and took a sip. "Thanks de Winter." He smiled and lifted his glass in the air, giving Sebastian a look filled with smug satisfaction.

"You're not welcome." Sebastian clenched his hand, wanting nothing more than to punch Devlin right in his smug face. Instead, he walked over and retrieved his own drink, then resumed his silent vigil in front of the fire.

Grayson was a patient man, but even he found he could not tolerate much more of their childlike antics. Normally, he would let them have a go at each other, but Devlin was injured, and well, Sebastian was not in the right frame of mind. Just watching them, he could tell Sebastian might very well wring Devlin's neck before the night was through. He knew that would upset Isabelle and that was not an option at this point.

"Let's get to this, shall we, gentlemen?" His booming voice commanded attention.

Taking a breath, Sebastian reined in his temper. There were more important matters at hand than choking the life from Devlin, although he wouldn't mind doing that, either. "Yes, Grayson, we should. Thank you," he said, casting a glance over at Katherine. She had her body pushed as far back into the cushions of the chair as she could manage. He smiled in spite of the irritation he felt.

Grayson inclined his head toward Sebastian and grabbed hold of Isabelle's hand. He caressed it lovingly, twining his fingers through hers.

"What do we know?" Sebastian asked the room at large, watching the exchange between Grayson and Isabelle. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation. He chose to ignore it.

Devlin narrowed his eyes at Isabelle. She was making a spectacle of herself, petting and kissing the Duke's hand.

He frowned at her.

Could the woman not wait until she and Grayson were alone? He did not remember her acting that way towards him in public. He rolled his eyes. "What are you speaking of, exactly?"

"Good Lord, man." Sebastian frowned at Devlin. "I am talking about the person that took you both."

"Oh, that," Devlin said with feigned disinterest, and plucked a piece of lint from his trouser leg.

"Yes, that." Sebastian widened his eyes.

Devlin bit back a smile and waited. Once he was sure he had everyone's undivided attention he said, "There had to be at least two of them. Had there only been one, I would not have found myself in that pit, chained, and with a broken leg."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure," Devlin huffed indignantly.

"Well, Katherine, what do you have to say?" Isabelle asked.

Katherine spluttered out her drink. "Me? Ah, well, I only saw one." She shivered as her face came into her mind. "It was a woman...she was disfigured."

"Are you sure it was a woman?" Isabelle asked.

Devlin cut in, "Yes, that is what she said. Good Lord woman, can't you hear?"

"Oh." Isabelle sat back in her chair, her face drained of all color.

Grayson noticed Isabelle's demeanor had changed the instant Katherine mentioned the disfigured woman. "Enough!" he bellowed.

"We have established there was a woman, at least. Obviously, she wants something. What could she want?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Devlin shrugged.

"I have no idea," Katherine supplied helplessly.

"I do not know." Sebastian was stumped.

"Fine, let's stick to the facts," Grayson said. "Katherine, where did you see her?"

"I was in a room off the gallery. I was looking for Sebastian," Katherine said a bit defensively. "No one was here."

Sebastian jerked his head around. "I was looking for you outdoors. I checked all the rooms several times before Milford and I finally decided to look outside." He narrowed his eyes at her. "If you were inside the entire time, why didn't you answer me when I called out for you?"

Katherine gulped reflexively. What to say? Oh right, I was hanging out in a secret passageway while you were out freezing your ass off looking for me? "Um, well...ah, I may have been in the bathroom, maybe..." She shrugged stupidly. Oh my GOD! Seriously the bathroom. Most embarrassing answer ever.

"The bathroom?" Sebastian gaped at her. "Really?" he asked, his disbelief apparent.

"I am sure Katherine was simply wandering around another part of the house," Milford blurted.

Katherine jumped in. "Of course, that must be it," she said, recovering quickly. Perhaps too quickly, judging by the strange look Sebastian gave her.

Sebastian tossed back the rest of his drink. What in the hell was Milford doing? The man had just given her a viable excuse. He couldn't help wondering if Milford was somehow involved in this debauchery as well.

"What is this, a trial?" Devlin asked indignantly. "Sebastian, are you now the judge as well as the jury?"

"Leave it," Grayson bellowed. "We are not getting anywhere with these accusations." He rubbed his forehead. He was getting a bloody headache. "Sebastian, you and Milford were outdoors. Katherine, you were off looking for Sebastian, and he was looking for you. We know what you were both doing, but Devlin, what were you doing when you were taken?"

"Huh?" Devlin tore his gaze from Katherine. "Oh right, I was on my way inside here but then I saw a woman fleeing from the house. I thought Katherine was trying to get away from you." He glared at Sebastian. "At the time I had no idea that was her name." He beamed at Katherine. "Of course, I had already realized she was not Marguerite," he boasted. "I do have very good investigative abilities, you know."

He paused for effect.

"Although, I will admit it did take some time to realize the obvious differences between the two but I was not fooled for long." He crossed his arms and flicked his gaze in Sebastian's direction. "I am of course, a quick-witted person so it did not take as long to figure it out as I am sure it would have most people."

He lifted his brow. "Say, Sebastian, how long did it take you to figure out she was not Marguerite?"

"I knew she was not Marguerite when I returned." Sebastian glared at Devlin.

Katherine's fingers tightened on the arms of the chair. He had known that long and he kept looking. She stared at him until his gaze slid back to hers. "Thank you," she mouthed and then smiled.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "You're welcome," Sebastian mouthed back.

Devlin darted glances back and forth between the two of them. A surge of irritation flared as he watched Sebastian make googly eyes at Katherine. He balled up his fist, wanting to punch the dimples off the do-gooder's face. Damn.

"Devlin, where is Judith?" Isabelle asked, forcing her mind back to present.

"Judith?" Devlin squawked out her name, the pitch of his voice far too high. "How would I know?" he added defensively. "The last time I saw her, she was running off with your cloak and jewels."

"What?" Isabelle yelled out in shock.

"Oh, right...sorry..." He made a face. "I was looking for you and instead happened upon Judith. We had words, and then I left," Devlin said offhandedly.

"You left her where?" Isabelle queried.

"I left her at the ravine," Devlin said.

Milford and Sebastian looked at one another in surprise, their eyes round.

Devlin didn't notice. "I was done being a pawn in her games. I had no idea she was such a scheming whore."

Isabelle scoffed. "Oh please, you expect me to believe you had no knowledge of what kind of person she was?"

"Well, perhaps a little," Devlin amended. "You know Isabelle, everyone deserves a bit of redemption." Devlin's chest tightened. "You are no paragon of virtue either, you know. You have not always stayed on the righteous path," he snapped, feeling guilty. "We all make some mistakes once in a while."

"Not as many as you!" Isabelle yelled.

Devlin flinched. He didn't deal well with screaming women. She was so like Judith in that way. She never knew when to shut the hell up. "I did what I needed to survive!" he argued. "What, pray tell, was your excuse? Do not try to act the innocent with me, Isabelle! You knew what I was when you met me!"

"Yes, I knew what you were!" Isabelle said, her defeat evident. "What of it, Devlin?"

"Cease, both of you, please!" Grayson put a stop to the bickering. "Where is Judith now? Is it possible she was the one that took you Katherine, or you Devlin?"

"I have no idea who Judith is," Katherine answered weakly. No one was listening.

Devlin shook his head. "No, it was not Judith. Judith may be a lot of things, but she is not a lunatic..." he trailed off to ponder that for a moment. "Well, maybe she is a bit mad, but no, I know it was not her," he said finally.

"That settles that. It was not Judith. What about the legend?" Grayson asked. He realized he must have spoken the magic word, for all eyes were suddenly riveted on him.

"Legend," Katherine squeaked and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Yes, the legend of Ravenhurst," he said as though it had been told a hundred times. "I heard the tale some time ago. I remembered being especially intrigued since my property borders yours, Sebastian, and yours as well, Isabelle," he said in a matter of fact tone, like it was known by all.

"I do believe it went something like this..." he said. " Locked within for all time, no other will be allowed peace of mind...until the key is found."

Devlin piped in, "Ah, yes, the legend. I always wondered about that. Now what are they looking for?"

Katherine gaped at Devlin and Grayson like they both sprouted three heads. How in the hell did they know about the Legend? Wasn't it supposed to be a secret?

"What legend are you speaking of?" Sebastian questioned in confusion.

"Are you kidding me de Winter?" Devlin snorted. "You don't know the Legend? It's about your ancestor." He gave Sebastian a look of disbelief. "Good Lord man, did no one tell you of your family's history?" Devlin shook his head, wondering how Sebastian could be so clueless. Or was he hiding something?

"Apparently I do not," he said, bewildered by the prospect. He had no idea what Devlin was speaking of and he felt suddenly foolish. Why had he been kept in the dark?

He turned away and went to get another drink.

"Well, I can't speak for Grayson, but I originally heard the tale from a hag selling her wares on the street. She had all sorts of little baubles and trinkets. I thought about getting something for Isabelle at the time, but found I was a bit short of coin and could not spare any on her wares."

Isabelle snorted.

Devlin shot Isabelle a scathing look.

"What was she trying to sell you?" Katherine asked, her voice barely audible.

Devlin furrowed his brow, thinking. "Right. I remember now. It was a necklace. Yes, yes it was a necklace. It was rather large, though, and the red reminded me of blood, and the sight of blood turns my stomach." He shuddered. "I decided to leave it and went on my way."

"Yes, I believe I had a similar experience myself," Grayson interjected.

"How long ago was that?" Sebastian asked.

"I think a few months ago." Grayson said. "Why do you ask? Do you think this has something to do with this woman?"

"I am not sure," said Sebastian. "But wasn't that about the same time Marguerite disappeared?"

"I do not know." Isabelle looked contrite.

"Devlin, what say you? You think it was that long, or was it less?" Sebastian asked.

"What? Oh, it could be," Devlin stated simply, brushing his sleeve off.

"Well? Do you think it was or not?" Sebastian persisted.

"Fine. Yes, it was." He widened his eyes at Sebastian. "It was all Judith's idea, by the way."

"What was Judith's idea?" Sebastian queried, once again completely in the dark.

Devlin cleared his throat. "She was trying to get rid of Marguerite. Obviously she did not succeed." He pulled at his cravat nervously.

"When did this happen?" Sebastian demanded.

"On your wedding day...she was in the gallery. I thought Isabelle knew and would have told you by now," Devlin said, staring at his foot, afraid to see how everyone took his confession.

Isabelle's face showed her shock. Horrible thoughts of failure filled her mind. How could she have not known? Sebastian looked her way for an answer. She shook her head back and forth. "I did not know."

"What are you saying?" Sebastian demanded and turned back towards Devlin.

Devlin sighed. "Aren't you listening to me? I told you, she was in the gallery the day of your wedding. Judith apparently tried to do her in, but she failed. Someone was calling for Marguerite, so Judith left in case she was found out. When she went back to finish the deed, our lovely Marguerite was gone. Remember? I helped you search for her?"

"Yes, I remember you helped me search for her, but I, in no way, knew someone tried to kill her. I thought she left me."

"She did leave you," Devlin stated. "She was not in the gallery when Judith went back remember? She could have stayed and told you what happened."

"Did she know it was Judith that hit her?" Sebastian asked, disgust resonating in his voice.

"My best guess would be no. Judith would have snuck up from behind," Devlin said. "She is a sneaky girl."

"Devlin, you can't be serious," Sebastian said, feeling sick.

"I am completely serious." Devlin lifted his brows, giving Sebastian a look like he was stupid.

"Devlin, did it ever occur to you that she may have thought I was the one who hit her?" Sebastian felt like he had been the one hit. "She may have run, afraid if she stayed I would finish the job," he said, and then rubbed his hands over his face. He was in shock. He wanted to kill Devlin, really he did. But at the same time, he kept thinking that if Judith had not tried to get rid of Marguerite, would he be married to her now? Would he have ever met Katherine?

He looked at Katherine, seeing her clearly for the first time. She and Marguerite shared distinct similarities but there were apparent differences as well. Katherine had a sweet demeanor and Marguerite's was acerbic. They really were complete opposites.

Katherine wasn't sure what to make of the conversation. Marguerite was in the gallery too...was that the connection they shared? What of the legend everyone seemed to know about? Even Devlin had heard of it. And what of Sebastian? She had seen the expression on his face change when Devlin recounted what had really happened to Marguerite. She could see how upset he was. Were his feelings stronger for Marguerite than he had originally realized? Something tightened around her heart...she knew what it was...dread.

Milford lifted a shaky hand and steadied himself against the wall. If he didn't he may well fall on his face. How could this be? Bloody Hell, what was going on? And then he remembered...

Devlin noticed Milford in the corner looking a bit pale and decidedly pounced. "Good Lord, man, what is the matter? You look as though someone has just walked on your grave."

Milford pushed off the wall, straightened his waistcoat, and walked from the room, completely ignoring Devlin in the process.

Devlin shrugged indifferently and turned his attention back to Katherine. She looked quite peaked as well. He leaned forward. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

"Yes, of course," Katherine said, trying to process everything. "I am just hungry, I guess." She looked away quickly, wanting to scream. Food and the bathroom? Really? Seriously, those were the only excuses she could think of. She pressed her palms to her face to cool her burning cheeks. It did no good.

Devlin did not think she was merely hungry. And he was sure she wasn't in the bathroom when Sebastian was looking for her either. But why would she lie? And why were Milford and her both white as ghosts when the legend was mentioned? Unlike Sebastian, they both knew something. He could see it on their faces plain as day. The problem was, he didn't know what. He smiled suddenly. He had almost forgotten about his uncanny deductive abilities. It shouldn't take him long to figure it all out, no, it shouldn't take very long at all.

Sebastian braced his palms against the mantel, staring down into the flames as a million what if's tumbled through his mind. The problem was, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers to any of them, at least not yet. He was completely oblivious of the effect his reaction had on Katherine or the fact that Milford had slipped silently from the room.

He walked over to the sideboard and poured another drink. He had a lot to process.

WHAT LURKS IN SHADOWS

Ravenhurst

MILFORD crouched awkwardly in the cramped alcove with only a suit of armor for company.

He elbowed the armor.

A sharp pain shot up his arm.

Rubbing his sore elbow, he looked towards the chamber Grayson and Isabelle were in.

Devlin's room was beside theirs.

Milford had no idea why he was watching their doors, but Sebastian was adamant that he, Milford, stay in the alcove, out of sight. Sebastian and Katherine were down at the end of the hall.

Apparently, after he left the library earlier, the group volunteered him to take the first watch for the night, just in case the lunatic decided to come back. That is what he got for leaving the room.

He wondered why anyone would take Devlin. Perhaps he got in the way. But Katherine as well? It was almost as if a much larger force were at play here.

His stomach rumbled in the darkness, pulling him from his thoughts. He was hungry and his right foot had lost the feeling in it. Using the suit of armor, he pulled himself back to standing. It felt like tiny needles were poking the bottom of his foot.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, he thumped his foot on the runner to muffle the sound. While he was trying to be quiet, it seemed Isabelle and Grayson had other ideas. Someone growled in the darkness and then a loud howl of laughter followed, accompanied by a moan of pleasure.

Milford poked his fingers in his ears and turned his face away from the door, but unfortunately, it did nothing to quiet the noise. He did not need to stretch his imagination very far to figure out what Isabelle and Grayson were doing to pass the time.

Milford smothered a groan of his own when he heard another moan...followed by a "Yes... yes...yes!"

He tried to rid his mind of the visuals he was getting. Good Lord, if he had to hear one more moan about the Duke's prowess in bed, he would be sick. He felt like yelling at the top of his lungs..."Have some regard for who may be stuck outside your damn doors listening! At least try to keep it down!"

Even though he doubted Katherine and Sebastian could hear—but Devlin was in the adjoining room. And if it was that loud for Milford, just think how loud it must have been for him.

But then again, perhaps the scoundrel deserved at least a little of what he was getting, especially after the atrocious way he'd treated Isabelle. By God, the man had locked the poor woman in her very own cellar. Oh well, perhaps Devlin should hear their love play, but he didn't need to.

Disgusted, he glared at the door. His stomach rumbled again. He was famished. Unlike the others, Milford had no opportunity to eat anything for dinner earlier.

He cast a wary glance down the hall and then back towards the stairwell, pressing his hand against his rumbling stomach. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he decided to run down to the kitchens for a quick bite.

His excuse to himself was that there was so much noise coming from across the hall it would likely scare the hell out of any assailant anyway. He shook his head and cautiously stepped out of his hiding place, past his armored buddy. He gave the door across the hall one last look of derision before turning and descending the stairs to the kitchens.

Unfortunately, in his haste, he never saw the cloaked figure emerge silently from the shadows.

♦

The fire in the hearth burned down, leaving only reddish-orange embers that cast a dim glow about the chamber. The dark blue bed hangings were pulled back on one side. Grayson gently caressed Isabelle's bare shoulder. Her arm was draped across his chest and her long shapely legs tangled around his own under the blankets. They had only just found their mutual release moments before.

A chill swept into the room, bringing life to the dying embers in the fireplace. Grayson tightened his hold on Isabelle and lowered his lashes, feigning sleep.

A shadow slid eerily over the bed as a figure moved through the room to the adjoining chamber. The door opened silently and then the figure slipped inside.

♦

This room was empty. Advancement was easier this way. Another door opened soundlessly into yet another room.

This one was not empty.

The cloaked figure's eyes filled with a fiendish gleam as it espied its target. Directly in the middle of the massive bed was the girl. She was curled up on her side with her knees pulled up to her chest.

The figure cocked its head to the side, watching mutely, recalling another time, with another person looking much the same. A sad, bitter wave coursed through its body, accompanied by a severe pain throbbing from within as another pair of eyes opened and filled with rage.

The shadowy form turned away from the bed, reassessing the room. The current Lord of Ravenhurst was sleeping in a chair in front of the fire with his back facing the door.

The satisfaction they had been craving for so long would finally be theirs for the taking. A barely contained jubilance spread through the assailant's body, bringing painful memories to the forefront of their mind.

Gliding silently across the room, its gnarled hands pulled a long, steely blade from the folds of their cloak, moving even closer. The hands shook with emotion.

After all these long years of waiting, they would finally have their vengeance. Vanquish all opposition in one swift maneuver. The steely blade glinted in the firelight as they prepared to plunge the blade into the blackened heart of their foe. Only then would they be free once and for all.

♦

Silently, Grayson climbed from his bed. Hastening to pull on his trousers and shirt, he followed the shadowy form out of the room and into the next. The cold steel of his pistol was pressed firmly in his hand as he kept to the shadows, following his quarry.

Grayson stepped into the next room, his eyes barely adjusting to the dimness as a blood-curdling scream split the air. The steely blade of the knife plunged deeply into the chest of the hapless victim on the chair.

Grayson took aim and pulled the trigger, firing a shot into the darkened room.

He missed.

Fumbling to dispense the second bullet, another blood-curdling scream split the air. The shadowy figure lifted the knife again and brought it down forcefully, plunging the blade even deeper.

Grayson lifted his arm, raising the gun once again, and fired.

This time he did not miss his target.

♦

Milford ran into the chamber when the second shot rang out. He stumbled back, his ears ringing. Thoughts of failure wreaked havoc in his mind. Not only had he failed Sebastian, but all the others involved in the legend as well. His entire purpose for being here was for naught. The legend would never be brought to fruition. The sight before him crushed all hope from his heart.

Katherine lay on the floor, soaked in blood as Sebastian leaned across her motionless body.

Slowly, Milford walked towards the devastating scene. Tears rolled down his face, blurring his vision. He grabbed a chair for support. His chest tightened. Another Katherine moved from the shadows across the room. Her mouth was moving, but he could hear no words as she leaned down next to her own lifeless body.

A pool of blood seeped across the stone floor, soaking into the edge of the carpet.

The horror of the situation came crashing down on Milford. The roar of his heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears, drowning out all other sound. His mind balked at what he was seeing.

"Oh no!" he gasped out in shock as the only reasonable explanation loomed right before his eyes, shaking him to his core.

Katherine was dead and now he was seeing the poor girl's ghost.

They were all dead, every one of them. Or so he thought, and for the first time in four centuries, Milford fainted.

♦

Sebastian heard a loud thud over his shoulder and lifted his head. He pulled his arm away from Katherine and scrambled to his feet. "Milford!"

Sebastian rushed to his side and leaned down. "Wake up, man," he said, tapping Milford gently on the face, trying to rouse him.

Milford's eyelids fluttered open. Sebastian's face was a blur, fading in and out of focus. He gulped back another wave of dread. Was he a ghost too? It was just too much for poor Milford to process and he fainted once more.

"Grayson, help me," Sebastian called, leaning down, grabbing Milford under his arms.

"What happened to him?" Grayson asked, helping place Milford on the bed.

"I do not know." He stood back and raked his hands over his face. "What in the hell was that?" he asked, turning.

There was no answer...Grayson was gone.

♦

"Isabelle," Grayson called, running from the room. He rushed into their room. She wasn't there. He poked his head in Devlin's room. "Have you seen Isabelle?"

"No, but..."

Grayson turned and ran back through the adjoining room.

"Grayson...wait!" Devlin tried to pull himself from the bed but it was no use, the Duke was already gone. He groaned in agony and fell back onto the bed. "Bloody Hell!"

♦

Lying in a growing pool of blood, still holding the knife in her gnarled hand, the disfigured woman was only a few feet from Katherine. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision.

"Oh my God." She turned away, wiping her eyes. A moment later she heard a strange scraping sound and bracing herself for the gruesome sight, she turned back around. Her breath fled her lungs. A puddle of blood remained but no woman.

"Where did she go?" Katherine scrambled up to her feet. Her eyes fell on the side of the bed where Sebastian was standing. The woman was right behind him, her arm raised in the air, the long knife plunging towards his back as he leaned over Milford on the bed.

Katherine tried to yell, but her voice failed her. She tried to move but she could not. It was as though something was stopping her from interfering.

"Victoria Nooo!" Isabelle screamed. "He's my son! He is MY SON! Not Clive's!" she screamed again, frantically now, begging, as tears slid down her face.

The disfigured woman stopped her knife in mid-air, mere inches from Sebastian's back. Slowly, she turned and looked at Isabelle...listening.

"I swear he is nothing like Clive. I swear to you on all that we once shared together. Please put the knife down, Victoria, please," Isabelle begged her friend from so long ago, sobbing as tears blurred her vision. She tried to envision her friend, as she once was—breathtakingly beautiful.

There was no beauty left now, only an awful disfigurement.

Images of another time came into Isabelle's mind—Victoria, laughing in the sunlight with her hair blowing gently in the wind. The violet color of her eyes was just as beautiful, but one eye sagged down, hanging lower than the other one, now. She looked like a monster. Isabelle bit back her revulsion, fighting the sickness in her stomach.

♦

Sebastian was frozen in place. He heard Isabelle scream. Who in the hell was she talking about? And why in the hell was she screaming like a lunatic? Then he turned and saw a knife hovering above him. He knew he should do something, but for some reason, he could not. Instead, Isabelle's words registered slowly in his mind...her son.

♦

The woman lowered the knife. It fell from her gnarled fingers and clattered loudly to the floor.

"Isabelle," she said hoarsely, reaching out her hand. She stumbled forward, collapsing onto the floor.

Isabelle ran over and knelt down. She covered her mouth to stifle the cries that threatened to tear from her throat. She carefully lifted her dearest friend's head and gently placed it in her lap.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes. Reminded once more of the broken porcelain doll she came upon so many years before...

MEMORY ♦ RAVENHURST ♦ THE PAST

"Oh Isabelle, do you think he will come with us?" Victoria asked excitedly.

"Does it really matter? I promise we will have a grand time, with or without Clive," Isabelle said halfheartedly.

"But you promised," Victoria complained.

Isabelle wished Victoria would get over her fascination with Clive. He was not good for her. "I know, but even I can't make Clive do something when he doesn't want to."

Victoria smiled, lifting her brow at Isabelle in challenge

"Fine, I will think of something," Isabelle said, relenting. Victoria could talk her into anything....

♦

Isabelle's mind came crashing back to the present. She ran her hand across her friend's brow, pushing her hair away from her disfigured face as her blood seeped into her gown, turning the material red. She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. How she wished she had been stronger that night. She wished she were stronger many other times in her life as well.

"I am so sorry for not being strong enough for you," she cried out suddenly. "Please forgive me, Victoria, please forgive me," she begged, sobbing uncontrollably now.

"Isabelle?" Victoria reached out her gnarled hand and gently caressed Isabelle's cheek.

"Yes its me." Isabelle cradled her head. "I'm so sorry."

Victoria gave Isabelle a secret smile, the one she always gave her. "It is not your fault," she whispered hoarsely, then coughed, sputtering blood.

"Don't speak. You need your strength." Isabelle used her skirt to wipe the spatter of blood from Victoria's face. She shook all over, trying to contain her emotions. Victoria's face was not the perfect canvas it once was. And even though her eyes were tormented, Isabelle still recalled the girl she once was and hugged her friend even closer.

Leaning down, Isabelle whispered secrets to Victoria that they only shared with one another. These secrets were for Victoria's ears alone.

Victoria gazed up at her friend, smiling, her face resuming the innocence of the girl she once was, full of beauty and life. "We had such grand times together, didn't we?" She sputtered out more blood.

"The grandest," Isabelle assured her, wiping her face.

Victoria smiled a that and for once, the other voice that constantly plagued her subsided.

Isabelle's lips quivered as she smiled back at her with all the love and tenderness she was feeling. "It's going to be all right." Isabelle gathered her limp body closer to her chest, rocking her back and forth, as a mother would a child. Tears flowed freely down her face all the while.

Victoria let her demons go. Her mind felt complete for the first time in so many years. She closed her eyes, relishing the comfort her friend offered her once more. As the last dregs of life drained from her body, Victoria Elizabeth Duprè found peace in the arms of the only person she ever truly loved...Isabelle.

LOSS

Ravenhurst

THE full wrath of the storm was upon Ravenhurst. It blew in a frenzy of wild abandon, making the trees crash against the windows, banging out their own fury as the wind howled with eerie delight down the deserted corridors. It was a perfect setting to mourn the loss of Victoria Duprè.

"Would someone please assist me downstairs before I fall to my death?" Devlin called out indignantly from the top of the stairs. "I will not be kept up here like a prisoner. Do you hear me?" he called out again.

No answer.

"Is anyone listening to me?" His voice took on a distinct whining edge this time.

Sebastian gritted his teeth, the tension in his shoulders palpable. "I am not getting that blathering idiot, so don't ask." He gave Isabelle a dark glare.

Katherine fidgeted with the fabric on the arm of the chair as she restlessly bounced her leg under her gown. She darted a quick glance up at Sebastian. He was facing the fire, his profile stern, unreadable, his shoulders tense. He looked ready to snap.

"Someone please...help me," Devlin called out again.

She wanted to go and help him down the stairs but she didn't dare, not with Sebastian in the state he was in. She wasn't real sure how he was handling what happened upstairs. He did not say a word to anyone after the confession/incident. He looked so distant, she wanted to help him, but had no idea what to do.

Grayson was about to say something but he heard Devlin again, his own shoulders tensed this time. "I'll get him," he said to no one in particular and left the room to retrieve Devlin.

Devlin clutched onto the railing with both hands and leaned over as far as he could so his voice would carry the farthest distance. He opened his mouth, ready to let a really good holler go this time when Grayson materialized at the bottom of the stairs.

"Do not," he warned. He shook his head and mumbled in irritation. "My God man, you sound worse than a woman."

Devlin clamped his mouth shut, visibly tensing from the off-putting remark. Under normal circumstances, he would have parried back with a verbal blow of his own, but Devlin may be many things, a fool he was not. If he didn't keep his mouth shut, he may very well be stuck up here, all alone, for the duration of the storm.

It was already bad enough that he had had to endure the horrific sounds coming from Sebastian's room when all hell broke loose. He did not know what was going on the entire time. He thought he would go mad with worry. He tried to see what was happening, but stumbled on the rug and was unable to get back up. He was in no hurry to repeat that particular performance, so instead, he stood patiently and waited for Grayson.

"Devlin, this may hurt a little," Grayson said as he easily lifted him into his arms.

Devlin was not easily surprised, but when Grayson hoisted him into his arms, he could not stop his awe from showing. Content, he wrapped his arms around Grayson's neck, and for the first time in his life, had the oddest sensation of security.

Grayson walked into the library and settled Devlin onto the settee, carefully.

Devlin had no idea how to react to such kindness. Therefore, he did the only thing he could think of. He smiled up at Grayson with all the gratitude he felt, giving him one of his rare, real smiles.

Grayson chuckled at the boyish grin on Devlin's face, realizing for the first time that he was not such a bad sort after all. He had to resist the urge to ruffle the top of Devlin's head as one would a small lad as a show of affection. He shook his head. The stress of the day had obviously caught up with him. He walked away and stood next to Isabelle.

Katherine had seen the exchange between Devlin and Grayson and was instantly relieved. At least someone else seemed to have come to a similar conclusion about Devlin as she had. Devlin, in all seriousness, was not much more than a child in so many ways. The smallest kindness shown to him turned the wastrel into a child seeking approval.

Sebastian thumped his fingers on the top of the mantle. One, two, three, four...it wasn't working. He needed answers. He turned from the fire, his face a façade of calm indifference but someone with an assessing eye would notice his anger simmered just below the surface, ready to explode at any given moment. "Would someone like to tell me what in the hell just happened up there?"

Devlin rolled his eyes. "Were you not listening?" he asked Sebastian pointedly, annoyed. "Grayson just carried me down the stairs. Good Lord, Sebastian, you should really pay closer attention to what people are doing."

Sebastian gritted his teeth...he was going to kill him. He wondered where the woman's knife who tried to kill him was. If Devlin did not shut up, he would use it on him. "I am not talking about that. I am talking about the woman in my room who tried to make me a bloody pin cushion."

"Well, I was not in there per se, but it would seem she wanted to kill you," Devlin said, lifting his shoulders, shrugging.

Sebastian counted backward from ten as he expelled an exasperated sigh.

"That was my friend, Victoria, Marguerite's mother," Isabelle stated numbly.

"Could you please explain why she tried to kill me?" Sebastian asked.

"Who did she stab?" Devlin asked, his eyes shifting from one person to the next.

"No one. I made a dummy." Sebastian raked his hand through his hair in aggravation.

"Good thinking," Grayson said.

Devlin rolled his eyes.

"I am waiting, Isabelle," Sebastian said tersely.

"I really cannot say," she answered in the same monotone voice.

Sebastian gaped at her. "You really cannot say...really, Isabelle?" He laughed then, but it had a bitter edge to it. "Or shall I call you mother?" He waited for an answer.

Nothing.

It was typical.

"Well, which is it?"

"Oh God, Sebastian," Isabelle gushed. "I am so sorry."

"Sorry?" He widened his eyes. "What are you sorry for? That you are my mother or sorry she was trying to kill me?" he asked bitterly.

Isabelle visibly flinched. "For both!" she yelled, her voice breaking. She sounded completely mad. It didn't matter. The constant front she had put up all these years was now crumbling to bits. She broke down and covered her face, her body wracked with anguished sobs.

"There, there, it's all right." Grayson sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her.

Devlin shuddered and clenched his hands together. Her crazy outburst instantly reminded him of his own mother, bringing forth yet another unhappy memory of his own childhood. Maybe he wasn't too off base when he locked Isabelle up in the cellar. Apparently, she was only a few steps away from becoming a permanent resident in Bedlam. He let out a shaky breath. His hand shook slightly as he lifted it to smooth a nonexistent wrinkle from his shirt. Well, he thought, it was a good thing she had Grayson, who seemed able to tolerate Isabelle's insane outburst because Devlin knew with certainty he could not.

"It is all right." Grayson gathered Isabelle closer in his arms until her sobs quieted. "You must tell him," he urged, already guessing most of the burden she had been carrying for so long.

Isabelle lifted her watery gaze to his handsome face and drew strength from him.

She pushed up from the chair and held it for support.

"Everyone, I have something to tell you," she began, her voice cracking. "Please hear me out before you ask any questions. I am afraid I will not have the nerve or strength to continue if I am interrupted."

She exhaled another shaky breath as her face took on a faraway look. "I originally met Victoria abroad. It did not take very long for us to become close friends. I was actually amazed that she wanted to befriend me at all. She was beautiful, you see, beyond compare, and I was immediately enamored with her. Not in the way a man and a woman are, but to me, she was perfect in so many ways. I guess I was also in awe of her beauty. She was breathtaking." Pieces of Isabelle's dark-blonde hair fluttered around her face as she released another shaky breath.

"Anyway, when we finally returned to London, she was informed it was not safe to return home. She was French, you see, and we were at war with France. I invited her to stay on at Ravenhurst until it was safe for her to return to her own country." She paused and shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. "We did have the grandest times," she continued wistfully.

"Clive was just as enamored by her beauty as I was. At first, he escorted us to parties and such. He even took both of us to our fittings for the latest fashions. Still, I had no idea what Victoria ever saw in Clive. He was not a very nice person but he did have something. Everyone clamored for his attention and Victoria was not immune either. I never saw it." She shook her head.

"Victoria seemed to think the sun rose and set on him." She paused and laughed bitterly. "He never reciprocated her feelings. Actually, he thwarted her advances at every turn. She was the most magnificent creature either of us had ever encountered, and yet he pushed her away. And even though he was seemingly uninterested, he still indulged us in our whims."

She sighed. "Of course it all changed soon enough. I am still not sure what really happened." She stopped talking for a moment, trying to remember.

"Right," she said more to herself than to the group listening. "I remember now. The first signs of autumn were beginning to appear. It was the first real outing, you see, to start the season off in style. "

"It set in motion a line of soirees we were planning to attend in the upcoming months. Everyone was excited, except for Clive, of course. He decided not to go with us." She rubbed her arms absently.

"This simply crushed Victoria." Isabelle expelled another shaky breath. "She was so enamored with Clive...." She shook her head. "I do not think she was used to rejection. Why should she be? She was so lovely...." Isabelle trailed off for a moment.

"Go on," Grayson urged her gently.

"Yes, of course." She gave him a meek smile. "I believe Victoria didn't quite know how to accept that Clive was not interested in her any longer. So she went to extreme lengths to persuade him to go with us. She used her wiles to try to sway him, and coax him, but once Clive made up his mind, no one, not even Victoria, could change it. Her usefulness apparently had ended with the summer. She was no longer a diversion for his dark moods. He declined again, adamant in his decision."

Isabelle clamped her hands together to stop their shaking. "Um, yes, well, we still made ready to go out without him. I was glad he was not going. I knew we would have a much better time without him. His moods were like the wind. No one ever knew when they would turn into something dark and dismal." She paused, her mind straying to the past...

MEMORY ♦ THE PAST ♦ RAVENHURST

"Isabelle, you look ravishing," Victoria gushed excitedly. "If I were a suitor, I would sweep you into my arms and carry you away with me on my white stallion, just like Lancelot." Victoria flourished her arm and bowed in front of her.

Isabelle giggled. "If I had a suitor he would more than likely be riding a black stallion with a tarnished suit of armor," Isabelle said with a cynical tone.

"But he would be so handsome it would not matter..." Victoria said, laughing.

Isabelle couldn't help but get caught up in the foolish fantasy. "Yes, he would be dashing and handsome...and money would be of no consequence because we would be hopelessly in love..."

♦

A tear slipped from her eye at the memory. She brushed it away with her fingertips. "I am sorry. I find I have gotten lost in my own thoughts."

Shaking her head, she continued onward. "Victoria bowed out at the last minute as well, feigning a headache. I was worried about leaving her. I knew somehow she shouldn't have been left alone with Clive, but I so wanted to go. My own selfishness did that to her," her voice broke with another fresh onslaught of tears. She covered her face, her body shaking.

Grayson walked over and pulled her hands from her face, leaning forward. "Isabelle, it is not your fault. You were a young girl as well."

Isabelle sniffed, trying to keep more tears from falling. "I really have no idea what happened that night. When I finally did come home, I found my dearest friend lying on my bed, looking so much like one of my broken childhood dolls." She lifted her hand imploringly. "I was young and naïve, I had no idea..." The tears came in earnest now, rolling down her face.

She used the palms of her hands and pushed them away as a surge of anger bubbled to the surface. "That was no excuse. I should have done something, but I didn't. Instead, I crawled into bed with her and gave her the only comfort I knew how to give and when I awoke the next morning, I didn't know what to think. She was gone. I had hoped it was all just a terrible nightmare, but it wasn't. My dearest friend, my only friend was gone...forever."

She lowered her voice to the point it was almost inaudible...her eyes were shining too brightly. "I was going to kill him. I had the gun," she said, lifting her hand in front of her. "It was right here in this hand...I could have pulled the trigger, but..."

Once again, her mind drifted back to the past...

MEMORY ♦ THE PAST ♦ RAVENHURST

"What are you going to do Izzy? Hmm...you going to kill your only brother, and for what? That whore? You know she used you, don't you? I caught her in the stables, lying in the hay with one of the stable lads. It was disgraceful how low she would stoop to satisfy her carnal urges. It was disgusting. I didn't want you to have to bear witness to that kind of immoral behavior. I sent her away before the gossipmongers got hold of her indiscretions and slandered your good name right along with hers."

He stood and pressed his hands against the desk and leaned forward, his sandy-blonde hair falling down across his brow. "I did this for you, little sister."

"For you," he repeated. "That is how great my love for you is." He pushed off the desk and raked his hand through his hair as he began to pace. "I had become quite fond of her as well."

He sighed heavily.

"Imagine my surprise, no my mortification, when I went out for an unexpected ride and found her in the throes of passion with a lowly commoner." He shivered in disgust. "You are better off without her. You'll see."

He took a deliberate step in her direction.

"Now give me the gun Izzy before you hurt yourself."

♦

Her mind came back to the present.

"I believed him even though I knew on some level he was lying to me, and still I did nothing. It was easier that way. It was easier to forget..."

She took a breath, reached out a shaky hand to the chair behind her, and sat on the edge. "I may have even forgotten her for a while. Things went on at Ravenhurst as though she never existed. Once in a while, I would think of her but I forced Clive's words to my mind and instead of being overcome with sadness I held tightly to my anger instead. I chose to believe Clive's lies and I almost forgot...almost...

MEMORY ♦ THE PAST ♦ HAWTHORNE MANOR

"Yes, Charles what is it?" she asked, looking up from her reading, a Penny Dreadful entitled The String of Pearls: A Romance, about the demon barber of Fleet Street, Sweeney Todd. It was one of her guilty little pleasures.

"A missive was delivered to the kitchen for you," Charles, her elderly butler, said, as he shuffled his way across the room.

"What on earth for? There is a perfectly good entrance to Hawthorne."

"Yes, well, it was a small lad. I think he felt more comfortable going around back to the kitchen's Madam."

"Oh, that type of delivery. Well, I hope you offered him a meal for his troubles."

"Yes, Madam, he is eating a nice luncheon as we speak, awaiting your response to the missive."

He walked forward and handed the envelope over.

Isabelle took it and used the letter opener to break the wax seal. She didn't recognize the crest on it. Once it was opened however, she did remember the handwriting...she lifted her hand to her chest, her face draining of all color.

"Madam, are you all right?"

She looked up at Charles. "Yes, yes I am, Charles. It is a surprise." She saw the lines of worry etch his brow. "It is a happy surprise Charles, no need to worry."

"Well, if you say so, Madam," he supplied doubtfully. "Will that be all, Madam?"

"Yes, of course. You may leave." She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh and Charles..."

He stopped in the doorway and turned around, his brows lifted in question.

"Be sure to give the lad a few coins for his troubles, and have one of the maids come fetch my reply for him at two o'clock."

"Very well." He bowed his head and walked out of the room.

♦

Isabelle breathed a weary sigh, as her mind slipped back into the present.

"Well...? Go on...you almost forgot...and then what?" Devlin asked impatiently.

Isabelle lifted her eyes from her lap. "Oh, she sent a missive."

Devlin leaned forward to hear what else she would say but she merely sat quietly in her chair, saying nothing. "Isabelle?" he called. "What did the letter say?"

"She needed my help."

Devlin scoffed. "The nerve of some people." He shrank back like a reprimanded child against the cushion of the settee when Grayson cut him a disagreeable look from across the room.

"What did she need help with, Isabelle?" Grayson nudged.

"She needed me to look after Marguerite, her child. I had instantly thought the child was the stable lads, but as I read the missive, I found out who the real father was."

Devlin gaped at her, not believing she was just going to leave the story there, right on a cliffhanger. He hated those types of endings. "Isabelle, who is the father?"

"Was."

"What?"

"Who was the father," she corrected him.

"What? Is he dead or something?" Devlin joked, not realizing she had already answered the question.

She laughed. It bordered on hysterics. "Why yes, yes he is."

"I can't take the suspense a moment longer...who was he?" Devlin asked, leaning forward.

"Clive, my brother," she responded in a deadpan voice.

Devlin's eyes rounded and he pressed back further into the cushions. "Oh."

Her brow creased and she shook her head. "I sent a response immediately, begging her to join the child and stay with me as well." The words rushed from her mouth as she finished her tale. "I am not sure what happened but shortly after that, I received another missive informing me that she was dead, and somehow I knew she had taken her own life. Apparently, I was wrong once again."

"What did Clive do when you confronted him?" Devlin asked intrigued by the story.

"Oh, he laughed at me."

MEMORY ♦ THE PAST ♦ RAVENHURST

"You dirty liar! How could you!" she railed at her brother as she stormed past the doorman and into the library where Clive was seated behind his desk.

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him as he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. "I assume you are speaking of your so-called friend."

"You...you are the one who slept with her, not the stable lad."

"Please Izzy, how gullible are you. Just because I may have had a tussle or two with the girl certainly did not mean she didn't' already spread her thighs wide for someone else. I can assure you her body had been well used before I even gained admittance. I practically fell in."

"That is not true. You are lying. She never slept with you, she...she would have told me!"

"Really, then how is it exactly that you are accusing me of being her bastard's father then. If it makes you feel better, I can always say I didn't sleep with her. It wasn't very memorable."

"You disgust me."

He shrugged. "So which is it going to be? Hmm? You planning to tell the Duke about my little indiscretion, and what of our little understanding? Would you like me to tell the Duke of that as well? I mean if we are to be honest and if your conscience demands that truth..." he said, letting his words trail off.

"You promised."

He laughed and then dropped his hands and leaned forward. "Then we will call it even. I keep your little dirty bastard, I mean secret, and you keep mine."

"Aren't you curious about Victoria? You were smitten with her for a while, I could tell."

"There you go again Izzy, spinning more of your fanciful tales. Perhaps you should start writing some of them down. I bet the Penny Dreadfuls would publish a story or two for you. Of course, you would have to take a pseudonym. Oh wait...your stories are not sad are they? No, of course not. They are filled with childish fantasies about romance and Knights in Shining Armor." He leaned back and smiled beatifically at her. "How's the old Duke filling those shoes, Izzy? Do you envision one of your fantasy lovers while the old Duke pounds away on your young self, day after day, night after night? His old sagging skin puckering from your touch..."

She lifted her fingers and plugged her ears. "Stop it Clive. Please."

He sighed. "Oh, Izzy."

"She's dead you know."

"Is she? Huh. She really was quite lovely...at least she was for a while."

Isabelle unplugged her ears. "Why did you say that?"

"Why did I say what?"

"For a while...you said she was a beauty for a while...like you thought she wasn't any longer."

He shook his head. "The wrong choice of words I suppose." He lifted up his drink and took a long pull from the glass.

♦

Once again, her mind came back to the present and she turned her gaze on Sebastian. His handsome face mirrored her own in so many ways. She wanted to fall to her knees and beg his forgiveness but instead she lifted her chin a notch, swallowing the urge like she had for so long it had become second nature to her.

"I don't know why Victoria would want to hurt you." She shook her head in confusion. When Grayson reached out and took her cold hand in his, the walls came crashing down. Her cries were muffled against Grayson's shoulder as he gathered her into his arms, giving her what comfort he could.

THE PAST WILL COME BACK TO HAUNT YOU

Ravenhurst

MILFORD pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it to his brow that was now covered in a light sheen of sweat as his own memories came back to haunt him.

Once he finished, he methodically folded the handkerchief back up into a tiny square and tucked it neatly back into his pocket. Time was up. He needed to say something but he wasn't altogether sure how he should go about it. Finally, he decided and jumped in with both feet. "I think I know what happened," he blurted out.

After he had everyone's attention, he turned his world-weary gaze on Isabelle. "I honestly had to piece together much of this information. I had no idea... Isabelle, I am truly sorry for keeping this from you," he added with meaning, lifting his hands helplessly in the air. "I was here at Ravenhurst that evening, but unfortunately at the time, I had no knowledge of what had transpired. Victoria's maid, Lisette, searched me out and asked for my assistance in helping her. She told me she heard voices coming from Clive's room, which I can attest was no surprise, once you left the house, Isabelle. He would entertain his friends when he thought he was alone, you see." He left his statement open ended, letting them fill in the blanks.

"From what I could gather from Lisette, Victoria purposely stayed behind that evening to be with Clive. They had been in clandestine relations for most of the summer." His voice faltered and he cleared his throat once again, shifting awkwardly. "Apparently, when she went to his chamber, things did not go as she had hoped. You see, she ah, found Clive and several of his ah, companions, in various stages of undress...one did not have to stretch their imagination very far to know what was transpiring between them."

His voice faltered again. "Things went downhill steadily from there. When she confronted Clive, he had a good laugh at her naiveté. She wouldn't let it go and began yelling at Clive, calling him all sorts of reprehensible names. I believe with Clive's temper she may have pushed him a bit too far and, as recompense, he made sport of her in front of his friends. They may have even partaken as well, I cannot be sure, and neither was Lisette. Whatever transpired, I am sure it was not what the poor dear wished for...or expected." He shook his head sadly. "I asked the maid why she did not do something to help her, but she was so afraid. She said that Victoria was a genteel lady and if the men could do that to a lady, she was terrified what they may do to her, a simple maid, for interfering."

"So Clive made sport of her with his friends?" Isabelle shook her head, her lip quivering. "That monster," she hissed, balling her shaking hands into fists. "That explains part of it but what of her beautiful face?"

"Yes, because I can assure you she wasn't beautiful when I saw her," Devlin added insensitively.

Milford sighed sadly, shaking his head. "Lisette told me she couldn't see very clearly but after the, ah, episode, Victoria must have lost all reason. She tried to attack Clive, but he was simply too strong. He easily tossed her away from him. Victoria lost her footing and fell face first into the sharp metal screen that surrounded the fireplace. It cut her face open pretty badly."

"She could have gotten stitches, why did no one call for a doctor?" Isabelle asked, wringing her hands in her lap.

He swallowed hard. "Clive...ah, apparently laughed at her and told her that now that her beauty was gone, no one would ever want her again. He called her a monster."

Isabelle gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "No."

"Yes, well, that comment seemed to push her completely over the edge. She attacked him full on, clawing at his face, and chest. Unfortunately she was still no match for Clive; he was simply too strong."

"How did she get back in my room?"

"Clive instructed one of the maids to remove her from his room and to pack her things. He said she was going off on a one-way carriage ride to Bedlam. He told the maid she had lost her mind. So Lisette snuck out of the shadows and dragged her from the room. She cleaned her wounds as best she could and put her in your room Isabelle, hoping to hide her until she could make other arrangements for her. She knew if she went to Bedlam, she would never be coming back...ever."

"I say it sounds like this Lisette may have saved her life," Devlin piped in, completely engrossed with the story.

Milford patiently waited for Devlin to finish his commentary and then finished his story. "After that she searched me out and told me what had transpired. I quickly set about making arrangements to have her sent away, to get the medical attention she would need, but you came back in the midst of our preparations...but you seemed unaware of the extent of the damage done to her poor person."

"Why did you not tell me, Milford, I could have helped, taken care of her...?"

He shook his head apologetically. "I know. I wanted to...but Victoria was adamant. She did not want you to know. I am truly sorry, but Victoria had us whisk her away while you slept," he said sadly.

"Marguerite was born approximately nine months later. We can only assume whose child she is, was. We hoped the child would pull her from her unresponsive state, but that was not the case. I heard Victoria disappeared once for a few days, and not surprisingly, that is when Clive met with his untimely demise. I suppose Victoria had her revenge after all." He shook his head once again. "I will tell you this, I was not sorry when that day came either," he said with sincerity. He looked back to Sebastian and then to Isabelle. "I am so sorry I did not tell either of you but I did not see what good could possibly come of telling you the horrors done by that man. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me."

"Oh Milford..." Isabelle said, and shook her head and stood. She walked over and hugged him. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear and then pulled away and walked back to take her seat beside Grayson once more.

Sebastian raked his hands over his face and let out a throaty gust of air. He was angry, horrified, and saddened so deeply by the injustice done by this man. The same man he thought was his father until... He jerked his head around and looked at Isabelle. If she was his mother...was Clive his father? No! That couldn't be...could it? He felt sick. He looked over at Isabelle, his anguish etched on his face.

"Sebastian?" Isabelle called out, shaking her head in denial. "Clive is not your father."

Sebastian shoved his hands in his hair, relief flooding his body as he bent slightly, "Oh, Thank God!" He stood again and pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to erase the horrible visions imbedded in it. He walked over and grabbed a decanter, the heavy crystal familiar in his hands. He paused, looking into the dark liquid swirling in the bottom. He poured a glass and tossed it back, then set the glass down. He kept his back to the room as he spoke the words that were haunting him. "Isabelle, if you are my mother, then why in the hell did you want me to marry my first cousin?" he asked incredulously, feeling sicker by the moment.

Isabelle's face fell. "Oh no, that was not my intent. Clive is not my true brother, at least not by blood."

Sebastian's spine went rigid as he turned towards Isabelle. "What in the hell are you talking about now?" he demanded.

"Sebastian, please...it is too much, I can't...," her voice broke off as she wrapped her arms around her stomach.

"Well, I have nothing but time. Do tell, Mother," he scathed out.

Isabelle wrung her hands together, looking towards Sebastian and then back to Grayson, wondering if the small bit of happiness she so recently found would be gone if she told the truth of it all. Still, she owed her son an explanation.

Isabelle relayed a long twisted tale, baring her soul to her son. She recounted that Clive was a bastard and not her blood brother. She told Sebastian how her own mother never even slept with her supposed father for he was too busy bedding the maids, whereas her mother was too busy sleeping with most of the Ton. It was not a love match...purely a joining of two houses that so often happened among the titled aristocracy.

Katherine pressed back deeper into the cushion of the chair, making herself as small as possible. She couldn't help wondering what Sebastian must be feeling to hear how his own mother pretended to be his aunt, instead of claiming him for her own. Of course, Isabelle had said she did this for Sebastian so Clive would claim him as his own heir and therefore he, Sebastian, would inherit Ravenhurst and all of its entailments.

"Who in the hell is my father then?" Sebastian gaped at Isabelle.

Isabelle closed her eyes and then took a deep breath. "I am afraid I do not really know." She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. "I was very young."

"And apparently very busy," he scoffed. "Are you kidding me with this?" He shoved his hands into his hair. "Then this place, this home you have shoved down my throat, is actually Marguerite's heritage?" He widened his eyes at her when she gave him no response, which was all the clarification he needed. "Well, isn't that just perfect," he said and then laughed. It was a brittle sound.

"This is your home, Sebastian. It always has been. Although Clive was not your real father, he recognized you as his rightful heir. Clive and I had a deal. This place and all of its entailments belong to you." She made a sweeping gesture with her hand to encompass the room. "Marrying Marguerite was a bonus. She would have her rightful place as mistress of Ravenhurst and you would have a lovely bride. I saw it as a win-win situation."

"So you made a deal with a monster?" he asked, appalled. "Wonderful, perfect, that is what every son wants to hear his mother confess," he added in a sickened voice. He felt bereft, disgusted.

"I did it for you Sebastian," she cried out as tears rolled down her face once more.

"Well thank you Isabelle, for thinking of me," he said with all the disdain he felt before he turned away.

Devlin watched Isabelle flinch as though she had been struck. He felt for Sebastian, he really did. He knew what it was like not to know who your father really was. To be told he would someday come for you and never to have it realized. And as much as Devlin hated to admit it, he knew they both had a lot in common. They were kindred spirits. That insight made Devlin shudder.

Sebastian ran his hand over his face. He looked at Katherine. He shook his head. It was too much to process. He walked over and poured another drink. He downed it in a single gulp. He needed to think. He needed to get away and process all that had happened. Without thinking, he grabbed another bottle and walked briskly from the room. He did not bother to look at a single person as he made his exit.

Katherine leaned forward in the chair and watched Sebastian stalk away, out of the room, maybe out of her life. She could see and feel the pain he felt, maybe not as profoundly as he felt it, but she could still sympathize. She tried to get him to see she was on his side, but his face was a mask. He'd shut down. It was as if he closed a door. She could no longer see anything she recognized. What was she going to do? He walked out without even looking at her. Of course, she could understand, but it still hurt. She wanted to help him, but had no idea how to do it. She could not even help some poor knight. She breathed out a sigh of defeat.

"He just needs a bit of time alone, you know," Devlin said casually, breaking into her reverie.

She turned towards the settee. Devlin's face was disturbingly pale and again he looked like a lost soul. There was a lingering sadness in his eyes but something else as well...was that pity—for Sebastian? Wow. She glanced upward to make sure a pig didn't fly by. She supposed stranger things had happened. "You think so?" she asked finally.

"Yes, I do. He has a lot to process. I am finding Sebastian and I have much in common these days, and not only our taste in women."

She rolled her eyes. "You couldn't do it, could you?"

"What?" he asked, and widened his eyes innocently.

"Can you be nice?"

"Of course I can be nice...to you," he added with a sweet smile.

She gave him a dubious look and then stood. "Would you like a drink?" she asked over her shoulder as she headed over to the sideboard.

"Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you," he called out.

Katherine couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips as she lifted the decanter to pour two glasses of scotch. She needed something to settle her nerves; stifle her grief for Sebastian's predicament. She looked at the dark liquid in the bottom and took a long drink. It didn't burn at all this time.

PAYING RESPECT

Ravenhurst Cemetery

THE late afternoon sun's rays broke through the clouds, sending streaks of light streaming down on the group assembled on the snow-covered hilltop.

They were paying their respects to the woman who had passed into the hereafter-just hours before.

Isabelle was sobbing. She tried to say a few heartfelt words, but the frigid winds of the north tore them away, scattering them across the burnished horizon.

Katherine yanked on her cloak and pulled it more snugly around her body as the wind tried to rip it away and steal her breath at the same time. She was standing a few feet away from Sebastian, his greatcoat thrashing back and forth in the wind. His rugged profile reflected the somberness of everyone in their little group.

Ravenhurst was a beacon, casting ominous shadows upon them all from behind, a constant reminder of the mistake made so long ago. She shivered as coldness spread inside of her. Time was running out, and still, she had no idea what to do. She was utterly helpless.

BEFORE THE STORM

Ravenhurst

ONCE the short service was over, everyone went their separate ways. Sebastian still had not spoken to her, and by the look on his face, she doubted he would anytime soon. The length of her gown was wet from the snow outside. Lifting the bottom, she walked slowly back to her borrowed room. She took a breath and opened the door; it bumped against the wall, creaking on its hinges.

The room was chilly, or it could have been that she was merely chilled from the events of the day. Still, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling being in the room and went to check behind the curtains. She even bent down to look under the bed. She straightened and the little ugly cherubs ganged up on her bed seemed to be taunting her with their little fat faces.

"Stop staring at me!" She reached over and poked her finger in the eye of the cherub closest to her. She shook her head thinking she may be losing it after all. She had resorted to talking to Gargoyles and fat-bellied Cherubs, which was absolutely ridiculous. Still, she felt like she needed someone to unload her own burdens on—it was better than carrying them with her everywhere she went.

She wished she knew where Sebastian was, she felt like he might need someone to talk to as well. Letting out a sad sigh, she walked to the bureau, and riffled through the drawers to find clean undergarments and a gown.

Instead of seeking him out, she decided to take a bath and give him some time to sort his feelings out. Besides, she needed time to mull over her own future, or lack thereof.

How could she put the legend to rest when she had no idea what the legend was about? How did Grayson and Devlin know of the legend? Was there a connection? And what of the woman selling her wares? Were these all coincidences? There were a few too many, if you asked her, and what of the striking resemblance between Marguerite and herself? Good Lord, even Victoria looked similar.

That, of course, made sense where Marguerite was concerned, because she was her mother, but where did she, Katherine, fit into all this?

"It must be the amulet...wait...Key?" Was that it? Was it that simple? Did she need a key to unlock the door below? Was that where she would find her answers, behind a massive door? Where was the key?

God, she did not want to go back into that pit, either. Visions of Marguerite in horrible places flitted through her mind. She rubbed her forehead. Her head hurt...her body wanted to see Sebastian and her mind wanted answers to all the questions. Each was at war with the other.

How could she change so many lives? How could she be responsible for the outcome? She finally gave up trying to figure out everything at once and went to take a bath.

After the bath was drawn, she climbed in and stayed there, letting the warm water soothe her aching muscles as her mind wandered, bouncing the riddles through it, mixing, matching, trying to make sense of it all.

Find the door ~ the key is found

~Unlock the door ~ time will be bound

~Locked within for all time ~may no other be allowed peace of mind...a third to lock it once more?

Marguerite was the first, and then she showed up, making it two... Who is the third? How did Marguerite make it to the future? Did she have something to do with it? Is bound the same as bouncing through time? Hurdle...Jump—where was a thesaurus when you needed it? Maybe the words meant something different in this era.

Katherine was getting nowhere fast. She climbed from the now-cool bath, deciding she had to talk to Milford again. He must have some answers.

Perhaps she should ask Devlin again about the woman on the street. Of course, if Sebastian caught her speaking with him, he would surely get the wrong idea and she didn't want to be responsible for causing any more distress in his life.

Not having any answers readily available, she dressed in another one of Marguerite's childlike gowns. It was all ruffles and lace. Delicate embroidery accented the edges. She felt foolish and tossed on a robe to cover the gown before sitting down in front of the fire. She brushed her hair out, letting the warmth dry it, lost in her thoughts.

Sebastian leaned in the doorway. He had no idea how he found himself at her room. He watched her brushing her hair out in front of the fire, watching, wondering if she could sense him there. His emotions were running rampant through his mind. She seemed so innocent, so very different from Marguerite in so many ways, but similar at the same time. He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. It was useless.

A gust of cool air drifted across her body, making the flames in the hearth shift to the side. She shivered, not from fear, but awareness instead. Slowly, she turned towards the door and froze.

Once her eyes met his, all thoughts of Marguerite fled his mind and he only saw her. He pulled the door closed. His footsteps made only the slightest noise on the carpet as he walked across the room. He sat down behind her and picked up the brush from the floor where she had dropped it and began to brush her hair.

Katherine closed her eyes. The brush slid down through her hair, gently, methodically, smoothing it. Up and down, up and down, the brush slid through her hair making her tingle from head to toe. Not from the action though, but from his nearness. Wildly her heart thumped in her chest as he continued his silent assault on her senses until she could not stand it a moment longer, and then the brush stilled.

Turning, she looked up into his eyes. So much pain and sadness haunted their depths. She wanted to take away his hurt. She wanted to make him forget everything that was causing him to look that way. Climbing up on her knees, she turned around between his legs, wedging between his muscular thighs.

Blankly he stared down at her.

Taking a breath, she lifted her hand and ran her fingers over the crease between his brows, making him close his eyes as she leaned closer to him. In turn, she kissed each closed lid, each brow, trying in her own way to absorb his pain. He didn't move, not a muscle, reminding her of one of the many statues scattered throughout the vast halls of Ravenhurst.

The firelight sent shadows dancing across the exposed skin of his chest, making it appear golden. Biting her lip, she lifted her hand and slipped it down inside of his shirt. His skin was hot to the touch, and smooth. Exploring, she lowered her hand. Inch by inch, she slid her hand lower until she reached the top of his pants. A small line of dark hair disappeared beneath. She wanted to follow that trail...she waited, debating whether or not she should try to unfasten his pants. What would he think of her?

Opening his eyes, he lifted his hand and gently brushed the long wet strands of her hair away from her face. Leaning forward, his warm breath wafted out across her face.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes slid over the line of his rigid jaw, watching the way his pulse jumped in his throat. Clenching the material of his pants, she struggled to wait him out as his lips hovered inches above her own and still, he did not touch them.

Twisting the fabric, she squeezed tighter. His lips turned up at the corners, exposing his dimples, sending her heart to thrumming erratically once more. Tentatively she smiled back, and lifted her hand, smoothing it over his shoulder, pulling him closer. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to kiss her, but he held back. He was driving her crazy.

"What do you want?" he breathed.

"I want...you...to kiss me," she rushed out, her face flaming red with embarrassment but she couldn't help herself.

"Hmmm, I will see what I can do about that." He lowered his mouth to hers. Eluding her, tempting her, he slowly dragged his tongue lightly across her lip, making her senses reel. Unclenching her hands, she ran them down his chest as his lips methodically made love to her mouth.

He pulled away and looked at her once more, his stormy, gray eyes smoldering just beneath the surface. "I am not playing this time. Do you understand what I am saying?" he asked, his voice coming out so quiet, it whispered across her skin.

Prickles of awareness spread over her body. She nodded her acquiescence. When he lifted her robe from her shoulders, she did not object. His fingers glided gently across her skin, leaving a fiery trail where he touched it.

Toying with the buttons of her gown, Sebastian undid each one, making her quiver from his touch, and then he pushed the fabric over her shoulders.

The gown slid down her body, pooling on the ground.

Cool air kissed her naked skin. It felt good. She was not embarrassed or afraid.

She was beyond caring.

Reaching down, Sebastian undid the remaining few buttons from his shirt and shrugged out of the fabric, completely revealing his muscular chest.

Katherine blinked.

He had a magnificent chest.

It was bare except for that slightest hint of hair disappearing into down into his trousers. To her he was absolute perfection.

Readjusting herself, she knelt down in front of him, and ran her hands over the sleek skin, down the front of his chest, loving the feel of his muscles bunching under her hands. Shakily she began to unfasten his pants. Her fingers trembled on the last button, his erection outlined, pressing against the fabric just below her hands.

"Stand up." He lifted her hands.

She did as he instructed. Her body was completely exposed to his lingering stare and she couldn't help feeling the rush of heat warming her all over from his unwavering gaze. Smoldering passion filled the depths of stormy gray eyes. Lifting his hand, he caressed her breast with the tips of his fingers, making her nipple pucker. He leaned forward and closed his mouth over her taut nipple, suckling the delicate skin. His other hand slid over her buttocks, gently squeezing and then he delved down between her thighs where she was burning to be touched.

"My God, you are so beautiful," he breathed, sliding his hand up, his fingers barely touching the soft curls between her thighs.

Breathing heavily, she reached down and unfastened the last button on his pants, releasing him fully. His length was hard against her hand, throbbing. She dragged her fingers lightly across the tip.

He moaned in response and roughly yanked her forward against his body. Lowering his mouth to her breasts again, he suckled the delicate skin.

Katherine was lost.

Her body reacted before her mind could think a thought. She felt an overwhelming desire that only he could satiate. Twining her fingers in his hair, she cradled his head.

"Oh God," she cried out when his mouth closed around her nipple once more. She ran her hands all over him. She had no idea where her propriety and modesty had gone.

In their place was a woman burning with desire that she never even knew existed.

Pressing her back to the floor, he laid her down on top of her robe. Standing, he removed the rest of his clothing, his skin glistening in the firelight. His eyes smoldered, as he came down on top of her, his long hair falling forward as he lowered his face to hers.

He seized her mouth with his own.

Any trepidation she had vanished completely. She pulled him closer, feeling his muscles flinch under her hands, his hardness rubbing against her belly as he kissed her hungrily. He nudged her legs wider apart and settled himself between her thighs. Lifting his finger he inserted it into his mouth, wetting it before he reached down and slipped his finger inside her tight passage, making her gasp in surprise. "So sweet," he breathed, covering her mouth with his own, kissing her sweetly then the pressure increased and he delved deeper with his tongue, his finger slid further, moving faster. In and out, in and out, he tantalized and tormented her, making her writhe in response.

"I can't wait," he murmured, kissing her deeper, hungrily and then he pulled his hand from between her legs. Within moments, he positioned himself and entered her with one swift thrust, filling her completely.

It felt so right, so perfect. At first, he moved slowly in and out of her body, his buttocks clenching under her hands as she held onto him.

He growled. It was feral, deep, and throaty as he plunged deeper. "You feel so damn good," he murmured, feeling her tight passage surround him, clenching, and then releasing. He was beyond himself, beyond feeling the pain that was crushing him earlier. He was slipping away into something else. Desire ruled him as he slid into her again, harder this time. All thought fled his mind, leaving only feelings. He grabbed her hips and lifted her legs around his waist more securely, lifting her higher in the air, leaning back on his knees. All the hurt and anger rang out as he pumped wildly into her pliable, willing body.

Katherine knew she should be feeling at least a little pain, but there really was none. She only felt his need for her, his desire, and frustration. She held onto him as he lowered her back to the floor and repositioned himself above her. Lifting her hands, she slid them through his sweat-dampened hair, as she stared into his stormy, gray eyes, trying to take every bit of hurt from him and make him feel the love she felt for him instead.

Sebastian closed his eyes, his body jerking wildly as the last threads of his control slipped away. He grabbed onto her tighter, gripping her hips; he wanted release, he wanted to cum but something held him back even though the fire between them grew.

Katherine leaned up and bit his shoulder, suckling his salty-tasting skin, trying to stifle her moans as he rode her harder, faster. Her nails dug into his flesh, scratching his back, thighs, and buttocks as he thrust deeper, harder, frantically searching for release. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but couldn't yet. I love you, her mind screamed, making her body respond.

Sebastian groaned, throwing his head back, fighting for release. Pressing her legs further up, he buried himself deeper. Her nails dug into his skin but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. And he still couldn't bring himself to the edge. Pumping wildly with his hips, he was in a frenzy, he needed to cum.

Opening his eyes, he watched her face completely enraptured in pleasure as she writhed and bucked under him, seeking the same end he was fighting for. Within seconds, he felt her tighten around his length. As she finally found her release, her cries of pleasure filled the room.

Sebastian kept thrusting, not able to slow his pace as he desperately sought his own release. Sweat rolled down his face and chest.

As the last spasms of her climax rippled through her, he kept up his rapid pace until finally he too felt himself falling over the edge, shattering completely. Groaning in in pleasure, he exploded inside of her and then collapsed with her body still held closely in his arms.

Katherine held tightly to him, relishing the greatest moment in her life.

It was everything she hoped it would be and more than she could have ever imagined.

WEIGHT OF THE WORLD

Ravenhurst

MILFORD descended the stairs to his secret hideaway and let out a sigh of relief. The time was getting closer, and soon the legend would be laid to rest, or at least part of it. Once inside, he sat in his favorite chair, tucked away in his private haven, and thought for the first time in four centuries that everything may end up as it should be. Sleep came easily to him as he drifted off into a blissful slumber.

♦

Isabelle sat in the center of the massive bed, wringing her hands. Grayson gave her a reassuring smile as he discarded his clothing and climbed in beside her. She leaned into the crook of his arm, welcoming his strength and comfort. He was all she could have hoped for and more. He did not judge. He took all he heard in stride, and for that, she was so thankful.

She did not know what she would have done had he looked at her differently. But instead of indifference, she found he looked at her with more emotion than he had before.

Had she finally found, after all these years, her perfect companion in life? She was hopeful. She closed her eyes and drifted into an uneventful slumber.

All the worry and unease vanished as his arms held her tightly to him.

♦

Devlin was back in his room, lying upon the bed, sorting through emotions he did not even realize he had. Perhaps Sebastian was not at fault for all the wrongs done to him in his life.

He knew deep down that Sebastian was not the cause, but he did represent all the things Devlin wished he had. Now hearing the poor man's own fate by others in his life, he felt a swell of admiration for him, even sympathy. It was a foreign feeling, to be sure. He closed his eyes; the woman on the street so long ago flitted through his mind.

The legend gave him pause. Were they all involved? Was this supposed to happen all along? Or was it merely a coincidence? He did not know for sure, but he knew he would need to ponder it for a while.

He closed his eyes. Images of an enchantress with violet eyes that turned to blue dazzled his mind as he drifted off into his own realm of sleep.

SCATTERED HERE AND THERE

Ravenhurst – The Following Morning

WHEN the morning sun made an appearance through the curtains, Sebastian relinquished his hold on Katherine with a great deal of reluctance, and climbed from the bed. Visions of their night of passion entered his mind, making him uncomfortably hard once again. He had never felt this way before. Surely, he had his way with many desirable women in his life, but nothing could compare to the wild abandon he felt with her last night.

He couldn't help but wonder who taught her the intimacies shared between a man and woman. From her enthusiastic display the evening before he would bet she had done the act quite a few times. He looked at her lying in bed, seeming so small in comparison. She still looked so innocent, even though he knew firsthand she was not.

His gaze drifted to her beautiful lips, the very ones that suckled his skin, absorbed his moans of pleasure, and made him forget for the briefest of moments. He rubbed his hands over his face and then dropped them to his sides. She was breathtaking. There was no doubt about that. After their rigorous lovemaking he was exhausted, but sleep did not come as readily to him as it did her. When he did finally drift off, it was a restless sleep.

He reasoned he was merely unsettled from everything he had learned that day and who knew, maybe it was. But there was a part of him that wondered if it was because she had given herself to someone before him. That those moans of pleasure she cried as her body tightened around him weren't actually because of him but merely the act itself. Had she made the others she slept with as insane with desire as she had him? And even now, he was so damn hard, the rigidness of his erection pressing against his trousers was almost painful. He wanted to take her right now, in the early morning sun. He wanted to roll her over and spread her legs wide, settling himself against her as he had the night before. He wanted to make her cry out his name; make her forget every other man she had been with before him.

He reached down and adjusted himself. He was so angry. He found he was full of righteous indignation. Not only did he have to face the knowledge that his father was not his father, and his aunt was now his mother, but the woman he may very well be in love with had lain with another before him. He raked his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Probably many others," he muttered angrily and turned away from the bed. He glared down at her robe on the floor and finally bent down to pick it up. As he tossed it on the chair behind him, he couldn't help but wonder if that is what he should do with her as well. Toss her aside. The gown she wore was in a heap on the floor. He looked at it and thought he should just leave it.

Maybe he should leave her as well. Perhaps he should go back to London, and let her go back to wherever she came from, which was probably Bedlam, with her fanciful, unbelievable tales.

Letting out a slow stream of air, he bent over to pick up her rumbled gown off the floor. He shook it out and was about to toss it beside her robe when he saw that a light smattering of red marred the pristine fabric.

Relief flooded him. "Thank God." He folded the gown up and placed it on the chair, patting the top with his hand. He knew he was foolish for being so damn happy about such a little thing but still couldn't help a ridiculous smile from breaking across his face as he walked towards the door. He paused at the bed and brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek before he turned and left the chamber.

It looked like it was going to be a fine day after all.

LOVE IS THE GREATEST GIFT OF ALL

Ravenhurst

THE bright morning sun filtered through the draperies, warming her skin, waking her slowly. Sitting up, she stretched out her arms, yawning. She was no longer on the floor, but in the bed. She looked to her left but Sebastian was no longer beside her. The indented outline from his body still evident on the bed from where he slept. Rolling over she buried her face in his pillow, inhaling his scent that still lingered there. She lifted it up and hugged it closely as visions of their night of passion pushed every other thought from her mind, replaying each wonderful moment.

Finally, she made herself release the pillow and push all the wicked thoughts of his body and hers together from her mind. There were things she needed to do this day, legends she needed to lay to rest. She rose and looked for her robe. She found it draped haphazardly across the chair, with her childlike gown folded on top of it.

She lifted up the gown, the blood spatters on the front glaringly apparent. She groaned, her face reddened with embarrassment. The urge to jump back under the covers and hide for the duration of forever was tempting, but then she posed a question to herself instead.

"Would I do it again?" She crossed her arms and tapped her chin. Well that's a no brainer.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

♦

Devlin could get used to this kind of treatment. Now that the servants had returned, he was waited-on hand and foot. He could not complain. Two footmen carried him down to the library after he bathed and got dressed. Fully revived and clean, he was now enjoying a strong cup of tea. No, Devlin thought this day was near perfection and he was enjoying it immensely, even if Sebastian was standing just over his shoulder. He noticed Grayson and Isabelle had yet to make an appearance. Grayson reminded Devlin of a randy old goat. He chuckled, shaking his head and took another sip of his tea. He could hear the Duke in action and was quite surprised he was such a virile man. Good Lord, he was old enough to be his own father. That thought gave him pause, as it always did.

Grayson was the type of man Devlin hoped his father had been. He was kind, strong, handsome to be sure, and most of all, accepting of people's shortcomings in life.

Yes, Grayson was exactly the type of man Devlin would have wanted for a father. He shook off the desolate feeling that passed over him. He made up his mind; nothing would ruin his mood this day.

♦

Sebastian drank deeply from a strong cup of coffee in the library. It was delicious. He forgot how much he enjoyed the taste of freshly brewed coffee. Now that the staff had returned, they would all be able to enjoy a decent meal and a fresh cup of coffee. Funny how one took so many things for granted, never truly appreciating them until they were gone.

He found the comparison similar to the disappearance of Marguerite. Although she was not in any way what he wished for as a bride, he still wanted no harm or ill will to come to her.

After what Devlin revealed about what Judith did to the poor girl, on his wedding day no less...well it was unthinkable. Sebastian felt like the worst sort of person. The only emotion he felt from hearing Devlin's admission was an overwhelming sense of relief. He couldn't help it; he wasn't interested in Marguerite.

He thought again about his night of passion with Katherine and smiled into the fire. He had to push those thoughts out of his mind, else he would go right back up those stairs and have his way with her again.

There were arrangements to be made. He needed to make sure everything would be in order. It was much easier now that the staff had returned. He immediately set the maids to cleaning, and the cook to planning an extravagant meal for the evening.

♦

Katherine walked slowly down the hall past the armored knights, past the many closed doors, and paused at the top of the stairs. She had a bird's-eye view of the foyer below. Maids were running with armfuls of linens as a footman carried a large silver candelabrum across the room. Smoothing her gown, she took a deep breath and descended the stairs. She had to admit she was a little disappointed they no longer had the house to themselves. They had become such a close-knit group in such a short time, almost like a family, one she never really had.

Grayson was the father she never had, Devlin a brother...she smiled to herself, amending that a kissing cousin was probably a more suitable name. And what of Isabelle? She could not bring herself to think of her as a motherly figure, that was for sure, but perhaps an aunt. And Milford...dear, sweet, sneaky Milford, who knew so much more than he was telling. What was he like...yes, he was like a friend.

Her mind drifted to Sebastian as she released another dreamy sigh, her head sliding back into the clouds. What did Sebastian mean to her? He was...is....everything she could have wished for. He was her heart, her love and now her life. She only hoped, no, she prayed he felt the same way. If not she was pretty much screwed. She made a face and sidestepped Joey, i.e. the Gargoyle, realizing he didn't scare her anymore. Maybe things were looking up. Maybe...

CARRIED AWAY

Ravenhurst

THE library door was open as Katherine approa-ched. The first person she spotted was Devlin; he had a slight smile on his face as he sipped some-thing from a delicate porcelain cup. He looked well rested, his face serene, he was obviously lost in his thoughts.

And then there was Sebastian. Her heart stuttered as she took in the length of his imposing form. His broad shoulders strained against the dark fabric; his profile contemplative. She wondered what he could be thinking. Her stomach flipped over on itself. Would it always be this way? She had to wonder. She took a bracing breath and stepped into the room. For the first time it was Sebastian who turned towards her, not Devlin. She tried to read his expression. Are you happy to see me? Or do you wish me gone? She wondered.

Katherine was acutely aware of time passing; she could hear the tick, tick, tick of the clock across the room. The thump, thump, thump of her own heart as it picked up pace, urging her retreat but she forced herself to stay put, she had to know. She wasn't going to second-guess her decision. No regrets. No, for once she was going to wait it out and see what happened. An instant later, his brooding stare turned into a welcoming smile. Katherine smiled back with all the emotion she was feeling.

Devlin lowered his cup and turned his head towards the doorway. Again, he was a bystander. He noted how lovely Katherine looked in her gown and he did not miss the look of uncertainty that crossed her face when she looked at Sebastian. And for the briefest of moments he thought that maybe, just maybe, things were not working out between them.

Of course, it was only moments before his hopes were dashed. The way they were looking at one another now, he knew in his heart he would never have a chance. They were both head over heels in love, desperately so. It was almost uncomfortable to watch. He turned away, unable to stand the sight any longer.

He sighed heavily. It would seem his perfect day was turning bleak around the edges. He glanced back towards them for a moment more. Oh but Katherine looked so happy; hell, Sebastian looked happy. Devlin would be happy too, if he were in Sebastian's shoes. Oh well. He took a bracing sip of his tea, letting the warmth soothe him as he finally accepted the truth. It simply was not meant to be. Someday he would find someone to love, who loved him as well. Hell, if the do-gooder could do it, why not Devlin the rogue? He chuckled to himself. Why not indeed?

It was only moments before Sebastian closed the space between them and was now towering above Katherine. She leaned back to look at his handsome face and as usual her breath caught in her throat. His steely gray eyes glittered with intensity, making her chilled and hot at the same time.

"Good morning," he said, sounding amused.

"Ah...good morning," she said as her gaze drifted to the expanse of white fabric covering his muscular chest. Her hands itched to slip inside his shirt.

Sebastian wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and peel her conservative morning gown off her delectable body. He lifted his hand and placed it under her chin, letting his thumb slide across the softness of her full bottom lip, the color reddened still from the kisses they shared the evening before. He felt the all too familiar swell in his loins as he looked at the rise and fall of her perfectly proportioned breasts. No more than a handful...a perfect handful. His fingers itched to delve into her gown and feel them again. He groaned as she visibly shivered from his touch, her vivid blue eyes locking with his own with a look of insatiable hunger and a touch of curious wonderment.

Hell, he was curious too. He had to wonder if it would be just as good as the evening before or if she would be reserved and aloof in the light of day. He wasn't above testing her on that measure. He needed to know if his reaction to her was real or if he was a victim of circumstance from the turmoil he had been going through. He wasn't sure what he wanted to believe...the former or the latter. If the truth were to be told, either reaction scared the living hell out of him. He decided to go all in, see what she was made of. If in fact they did belong with one another or if she was merely a passing fancy, he needed to know and now was as good of a time as any to find out.

He lowered his hand and brushed her long curls over her shoulder. "We need to talk," he said, trying like hell to hold himself in check.

"Okay." She bit her lip and let her gaze drift to his lips, then his chest, and finally settled her gaze on the front of his trousers, the rigidness of his erection very apparent through the tan material. Her face heated, flaming a nice shade of red. She was suddenly hot, way too hot. She lifted her hand, waving it in front of her face. "It's a little warm in here don't you think?" she said breathily.

He chuckled. "Yes, it is," he readily agreed, feeling rather warm himself.

She knew he was waiting for her to say something but for the life of her, she couldn't get her mind to work properly. It was mush. She cleared her throat to say something but nothing came out.

"I see the temptress of the night turns demure in the light of day." He let out another low, throaty chuckle and toyed with a piece of her hair, his fingers brushing against her cheek.

Sebastian knew he had to speak with her, but his eyes strayed to the delicate swell of her breast, bringing the remembrance of the sweet curve of her buttocks...how he would like to press his face between her thighs. Would it taste as sweet as her mouth? He couldn't help but wonder. Would she scream out his name in ecstasy, or would she squirm away? He put his arm behind her back and pulled her closer, just for a moment, pressing her pliable body against his own.

Devlin cleared his throat loudly. "Hello, good morning," he called from across the room.

Sebastian tensed and stepped away from her.

Katherine wanted to step up to him again and wrap her arms around his neck. Beg him to touch her as he did last night. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling bereft. Good grief, what happened to her? One roll in the hay and her body betrayed her mind. She couldn't keep the look of disappointment from her face as she looked up at him once more.

He raised a perfectly arched brow to her in question.

She felt like he could read her mind. Her stomach flipped over on itself. Maybe she was hungry. Oh yeah, that's it. Who am I kidding? Stupid food was the last thing on her mind. She was hungry all right, but food would not even begin to satisfy this particular hunger.

Sebastian watched as the play of emotions she was feeling clearly wrote themselves on her expressive face and debated his next move for less than a minute before he reached down, took her hand in his and pulled her all too willingly from the room as Devlin's voice followed in their wake.

Katherine heard Devlin call out, but she could not hear what he was saying, and truthfully, for once she did not care, not one little bit. She lifted her gown in one hand as Sebastian dragged her by her other up the stairs, down the hall and around a corner that she had never ventured down before.

The hallway was dark and there were only two doors that she could see. He stopped in front of one and twisted the handle, the heavy door squeaked loudly as it swung open. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her inside the darkened room. With her body smashed up against his. She barely had a chance to take a breath before his mouth came hungrily down on top of hers. She moaned in response, sliding her hands up his muscled chest.

He lifted her up in his arms and walked forward; pressing her back against the hard wooden door. He reached around, turning the key in the lock and then braced his hands on either side of her body. "I've been dying to do this all morning," he said huskily and then lowered his mouth to claim hers once again.

It was another searing, breath-stealing kiss. His tongue pushed in, delving deeper. The velvety warmth enveloping her, she kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm. His hands slid down her back, and then he gripped her tighter, pressing against her.

He pulled back, his forehead now resting against hers, his breathing hard. "Tell me, were you waiting for this as well," he asked, nipping playfully at her chin and neck.

"Yes." She tilted her head back, holding him closely. Surges of desire shot through her body with every nip, every lick.

"Damn," he murmured hotly, leaning into her. "You taste sweet," he said, sliding his lips down her neck, kissing the delicate skin at the base of her throat.

Arching against him, her body had a mind of its own. She pressed in closer. Frantic with need, and want, her fingers tugged at his jacket trying to pull it from his shoulders so she could feel his exposed skin.

"My sentiments exactly," he laughed, and began to work the buttons on the front of her gown, his fingers caressing the delicate skin with each button. Stopping briefly, he shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. And then his hands were back on the front of her gown and hers were trying to open the buttons of his shirt, neither making much progress. Everything was moving too slow. She was squirming.

"Too many damned buttons," he groaned, running his hands over the softness of her breasts, toying with her nipples through the fabric. "This is not going to work," he said, and grasped the edges of her gown. One sharp tug and the fabric ripped, buttons flying off in every direction, pinging against the walls and floor. "Sorry," he murmured against her lips as his mouth claimed hers once again.

She almost laughed, but didn't. Instead, she tried to do the same to his shirt. She tugged, pulled, and got nothing. Not even a tiny tear. Everything was taking way too long. She boldly went straight for his trousers instead, fumbling with more buttons trying to release him. That wasn't working too well either. "I can't get these undone."

"Let me." He reached down and released himself.

Katherine wrapped her cool fingers around the length of him.

"Careful love," he said, pulling in a swift intake of breath.

"Sorry," she breathed, completely embarrassed.

"Nothing to be sorry about, your fingers are just c...old," he said, but the word turned into a groan when her fingers tightened around his length. Lowering his mouth back to her breast, he gave her a little payback, teasing her nipple with his tongue, wetting the tip and then blowing gently, making it pucker.

"Not fair," she said, moaning through most of the word. His mouth closed back over her nipple completely. Reaching up, she held onto his head, clenching fistfuls of his hair. He sucked even harder. Ripples of pleasure washed over her body.

One-handed, he reached down and pulled her gown up, using the other to slide over the rounded curve of her derrière, squeezing. "My God," he murmured, pulling her undergarments out of the way. Lifting her leg up he reached down between them both and slid one finger into her, making her gasp in his mouth. "I can't wait," he groaned, pulling his finger back out and thrust into her body again. Her head banged against the door from the force.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and moved his hand behind her head.

"Yes." She shook her head up and down.

Sebastian groaned in relief and then positioned himself between her thighs. His rigid erection entering her tight wet passage, slowly, so slowly, claiming her body with his own. Intense pleasure coursed through his him as she squeezed against him, making him loose every ounce of control. He moved his hips and she held on, feeling every muscle in his body tense underneath as he slid back and forth with swift, deep, strokes.

"That feels incredible," he exhaled in pleasure while her mouth suckled and teased his nipples with her tongue. The action spurred on his more basic, primal desires and he went wild, driving into her harder...faster.

Only seconds had passed before she cried out his name, "Sebastian." She kissed his shoulder, her body convulsing around his length.

Clenching his buttocks, he continued to pump into her. Again, he was beyond reason, beyond comprehension, he was completely enraptured in the throes of passion. Animalistic abandon consumed his body and mind, spurring him onward towards his own spiraling climax. "Oh God," he moaned, thrusting faster, harder, burying himself deeper, sweat dripping and splattering down his chest, until he too found his own earth-shattering, mind-blowing release.

Sebastian released her leg and her gown slid back into place, rustling softly on the floor. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy and warm. "Good morning," he said at last and leaned down, stealing another kiss from her sweet lips.

Every muscle in Katherine's body felt like jelly. If he wasn't holding on to her she would surely have fallen into a heap on the floor. "Good mooorning," she said, stretching out the words and then started to laugh. "That was... WOW!" she said, not even able to begin to elaborate what that had felt like. Every moment had felt sooo good; her entire body felt exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.

His dimples made an appearance as he smiled down at her. "I take it you enjoyed yourself?" he said laughingly.

The sound was deep and warm, making her want to press her face against his chest, wrap her arms around his waist and never, ever let go. She was completely, unequivocally, head over heels in looooove with him.

"Well...YEAH!" she said, her voice emphasizing the last word on a near yell.

He laughed again, pulled her into a brief hug, and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Was it ah...good for you?" she asked suddenly unsure, lifting her face away and then resting it back on his chest.

He laughed again, his bare, sweat-dampened skin shifted under her face, rumbling deep inside. "Yes."

He turned thoughtful for a moment. Yes. He repeated in his mind. It was such a small word and a definite understatement. Sex with her had been...so many things at one time it was hard to put a name on it...unforgettable was about as close as he could get. That realization bombarded him with another barrage of questions. He had put her to the test and she far surpassed any limits he had set for her. He felt himself slipping, falling...he was out of control, but there was nothing he could do. She said she was from the future and he wanted to believe her even though it was utterly ridiculous. Maybe in her own mind she thought she was. He exhaled.

What of the supposed legend? What was her part in that? He had no answers. The real question he needed to ask himself now was what was he going to do about it? He disentangled his body and stepped away from her.

Katherine wiped the wetness from her cheek with her shoulder and then plucked the sweat-dampened pieces of her hair from her face and tucked them behind her ears. She looked down and her breasts were hanging out of her gown. Quickly, she jerked the bodice of her gown back in place and pushed her boobs back under the ripped fabric. It didn't work very well but at least she got most of her boob covered up. She still felt really shaky, like she had been doing a massive workout for over an hour. Granted she never worked out, at least not in the real, "I am a hardcore fitness junkie" sense of the word. She was a junkie all right... "A chocolate—coffee—fast-food—designer clothing junkie." But exercise? Not so much. Once she'd taken a spinning class with Janice and almost dropped dead. She told Janice her heart was not supposed to pound that loud or hard and her thighs, butt, and body in general were sure as hell not supposed to ache for so long afterward. It took two weeks to get her body to feel slightly normal again...but Janice had assured her it was all part of the "No Pain, No Gain" dictum.

Right. With Janice's apparent stamina, it was no wonder there was a line of men waiting outside her proverbial door.

She glanced at Sebastian as he set his clothes to rights and then took in the room they were in. It was a pretty room. French blue, hand-molded walls, delicate Marie' Antoinette-looking furniture and a grouping of floral paintings on the far wall. "Whose room is this?" she asked, sweeping her hand to encompass the room.

Sebastian shrugged back into his jacket and looked over his shoulder, seeming to notice for the first time where they were. His eyes widened for the briefest of moments before he simply shook his head and pulled his jacket the rest of the way in place.

What did he do that for? She felt sick suddenly. What happened to his warm smiles? Oh, now he was frowning. It was going to be bad, she could feel it. Oh, why did I have to open my mouth?

She glanced around the room again. She was being paranoid. It was just a room. Just a really- pretty French-looking room...her mind screeched to a halt and backed up. It dawned on her: whose room it had been. She reached down, smoothed a wrinkle from her gown, and then straightened. She took a breath and held it until she couldn't hold it in any longer. Then the words tumbled right out of her mouth even though she didn't want to know the answer. "Tell me," she urged.

Sebastian glanced in her direction and then brought his attention back to the cuff of his sleeve. It must have been a magic cuff because for some reason he couldn't take his eyes off it and merely kept pulling on the fabric. She was waiting for him to pull out a bouquet or an array of colorful hankies, like a magician.

He exhaled a rather large breath and then let go of his sleeve and threaded his fingers through his long thick hair, pushing it away from his face. "I didn't think..." he stopped in mid-sentence. " We should get out of here."

"Why?" she prodded again. What am I doing?

"Please, I am sure you are nipping at the bit to get back to Devlin," he said with a hefty dose of sarcasm and then he gave her a cutting glare.

Katherine felt like he just kicked her in her gut. All the warm feelings of fuzziness from their lovemaking had quickly turned into something coarse and unwanted.

Suddenly an image of her favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Piddle, popped into her mind. It was a stupid thought from childhood. He was a white rabbit with patchwork pants. She did everything with him and loved him more than any of her other toys. One day she was serving "High Tea" to her toys, which was actually Swiss Miss cocoa with mini marshmallows. Mr. Piddle had gotten a hefty splash of cocoa and had to go off to take a long hot bath.

Unfortunately, once he came back, his snuggly fur was never the same. It was rough and coarse. Apparently, she vacillated quite a bit as a child because after that, her feelings for the poor unfortunate rabbit had waned and Mr. Piddle was stuffed away in an old box under her bed marked "Stoopid Toys!"

Now she wondered if the same would hold true for her feelings for Sebastian. Would they ever be the same or would she shove him into a box in her mind that she had labeled "Stoopid Men"? Ironically, there were a lot more men in her imaginary box, than in the real box of unwanted toys.

"I am not worried about getting back to Devlin," she uttered finally, barely above a whisper.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. He couldn't help but wonder why it took her so long to defend herself against his unfair accusation. Nervously, he fidgeted with his sleeve again, filling with sudden dread.

Then he sighed heavily, feeling like an ass and scrubbed his face with his hands. "It's nothing Katherine. This is just a room. Can't you leave well enough alone?" he asked, sounding frustrated, maybe even angry.

She sucked in a lungful of air. His crappy tone hurt her more than she wanted to admit. She shook her head and looked about the room once more. The room was not masculine in the least. The bed was lovely, with bright airy bed hangings covering the gilded edges of scrollwork and flowers. It was not the least bit ugly like the one she was stuck sleeping in.

The windows faced east so the morning sun could shine in the room every morning. Suddenly she couldn't catch a breath, she felt like she was suffocating. She turned to leave and grabbed the handle to the door. The damn thing was locked. She jiggled the handles, trying to get the hell out of there and away from him.

He reached out and grabbed her hand in his own.

"I want to leave...let go...please." She turned back to look at him, her eyes filled with all the hurt she was feeling and a hefty amount of anger as well.

"I am sorry, I should not have said that." He let out an unsteady breath and released her hand. "This room is, was, going to be Marguerite's room," he finally admitted, albeit reluctantly.

"I thought I was in Marguerite's room now?" Her brow creased in confusion, even though on some level she had already guessed what he just told her. Knowing this did not make his admission any easier.

"That was merely a temporary room...until we married." His eyes flickered briefly around the room and then he stepped forward.

She took a deliberated step back. The knife he had plunged in her gut earlier, twisted. No. no, no, this was the room they were meant to share as man and wife? And he brought her here? Ugh! What in the hell was he thinking? Seriously? She visibly shuddered. She was an interloper, an imposter that was living the life Marguerite should have had. Waves of nausea hit her. She lifted her hands and covered her face. "What am I doing?"

"It is not what you think." He tried to pull her hands away.

"Really? What do I think?" She shook his hands from her own and stepped back again to put some distance between them. "

"I did not love her," he said, just above a whisper.

"Oh, and you love me?" she asked, and huffed out a bitter laugh. "You don't even know me. I'm not even supposed to be here." Tears formed in her eyes from the hopelessness of the situation.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again.

"Don't bother to try to make sense of it. I don't even understand what is really going on. How do I fix what is wrong when I'm not sure what is wrong to fix?" She pushed him away, shaking her head in a helpless gesture.

"What happens when you fix this problem?" he asked.

"I have no idea. Who knows, maybe I will poof back to the future and you will forget you ever knew me." Tears began to fill her eyes again; she turned away, wiping them away with the backs of her hands.

"Look at me." He stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders, leaning down to look into her face. His stomach twisted in knots. He couldn't lose her. He just couldn't. He had his answer, even if the why's or how's she was here did not make a bit of sense. All that mattered right now was the here and now. She was his and he would not, could not, let her go, ever. That realization in itself was staggering and not something he would take lightly.

She was struggling with the door again; he knew he had made a mess of everything with his callous remarks. He didn't mean them of course, but he felt like he was cornered. And he lashed out, like he always did, trying to push her away. And if he wasn't careful, he would push her directly into Devlin's awaiting arms. He'd be damned if that happened, so he needed to make her understand now what she meant to him before it was too late.

"I will never forget you, Katherine. You are my world now, and are not, will not be going anywhere." He reached out and turned her around, shaking her shoulders, trying to make her understand what he was saying. "I will not let you go...ever. Do you understand?" he said each word with finality. He gathered her in his arms. He could not let her go. She was his and that was that. At least that is what he told himself.

"Oh no..." she sobbed out brokenly. " That is what the knight said too!" Katherine clung to his hard body. Her shoulders sagged in defeat, sniffing loudly. "And that poor girl, she disappeared to God only knows where this time and now he is all alone."

"Who disappeared?" Sebastian asked, confused, shaking her again.

"Marguerite, your real betrothed... He, the knight, loved her you see, and then she disappeared into thin air, and now he is all alone," she sobbed out the words, feeling again the suffocating devastation of the knight as she heard his cries in her mind all over again. She pulled one of her hands away and rubbed her brow, trying to get rid of the pressure building behind her eyes.

"I don't care." Sebastian looked down at her, confused, and pulled her hand away. "That is his problem, not yours. You cannot leave me," he added with conviction.

"Oh really, why's that?" she asked, sniffing loudly, her tears finally abating.

He waited a moment, gathering his resolve. "Because I intend on making you my wife, very, very soon," he assured her, pulling her body back in his arms and ran one of his hands down the length of her hair.

Katherine's tears dried up as quickly as they started. Her mouth dropped open as his words finally sunk in. "Wait...what? You want to marry me?'" She looked up into his eyes, searching his face to see if what he said was true, or was she hearing things? He smiled down at her, nodding his head up and down for clarification. His heart-stopping dimples reappearing. "You want to marry me?" she squeaked again, barely above a whisper.

"Of course I do," he said with sincerity. "How in the hell do you think I could go on without you in my life? You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am not going to let you go...ever." He shook her again and squeezed her shoulders slightly to make her understand. His voice quieted. "That is, if you will have me?" He lowered down on one knee and took her cold hands in his own. "Will you..." he trailed off. "I am sorry, what is your last name?"

A huff of laughter slipped from her mouth. "Jamison. My last name is Jamison."

"Jamison," he repeated as if he was accustoming himself to the name. Then he squeezed her hands again. "Will you marry me Katherine Jamison?"

"Katherine Nicole Jamison."

He lifted his brows. "All right," he said, and then cleared his throat. "Katherine Nicole Jamison...will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He lifted his brows expectantly, waiting for a response. She didn't answer. He swallowed hard and tried again, his deep baritone voice not sounding as sure as it had moments before and he asked once again, "Katherine Nicole Jamison, will you be my wife?"

Katherine blinked. She was in shock. She gulped loudly, nodding her head. "Of course I will; I mean, yes!"

Relief flooded Sebastian. He laughed aloud and wrapped his arms around her. "You, my sweet angel, have made me the happiest man alive," he said, standing back up and lifted her up in his arms, spinning her around in the air. Her gown swirled out around her ankles as he kept spinning her in circles, holding her tightly.

Katherine held on, hugging him closely. She tried to tell herself that it didn't matter that she traveled to the past to find him, if it was meant to be, it was meant to be...right? A feeling of dread passed over her but she quickly squashed it down.

He set her on the ground finally and kissed her once more before reluctantly letting her go. "Let's get out of here. We have a wedding to prepare for." And with that, he took her hand and led her from the room he was supposed to share with another.

EVEN THE GOOD MUST COME TO AN END

Ravenhurst

DEVLIN gathered the last of his belongings and made ready for his departure after the wedding.

Grayson and Isabelle were kind enough to let him stay on at Hawthorne until he fully recovered from his injury. They planned to drop him there on their way back to Radcliff Manor, the neighboring property. He had no idea how he ended up so fortunate.

He was not going to question it overmuch as he did not want to tempt his own fate. Maybe, just maybe, life was looking up for him. He smiled, looking about the room the ceremony was to be held in.

The decorations were simply beautiful, exactly what Katherine deserved. He knew if it had not been for her kind heart, he would not be headed to Hawthorne Manor after the wedding. Instead, he would most likely be on his way to the gallows for the horrendous things he had done. There was hope for him, though. She saw it, and it seemed the others did now too.

Devlin whistled a happy tune, quite content with the way things had turned out for him. His thoughts drifted to Judith for a moment. Where had she taken her scheming self-off to?

SECOND CHANCES

Ravenhurst Property – The Dreaded Ravine

"GET AWAY!" Judith screamed crazily, lashing her arm through the empty air...

There were nine dreadful, nasty buzzards flying around her head, diving, circling, and waiting for her to fall to her death.

She held fast to the rock jutting out from the ledge, her fingers raw and bleeding. The weight of her stolen cloak made her progress slower than necessary, but she would not take it off. She would be damned before she did that. It didn't matter that it was the cause of her falling into the ravine in the first place...well that, and of course, her insatiable greed. But if not for the cloak, she would not be here now. The hood snagged on a branch jutting out from the rock-faced wall, snatching her away from an untimely demise. And while the storm raged, it kept her warm. That was already two marks in its favor.

Her bag of jewels clanked loudly against the rocks as she climbed higher. She was almost to the top, but there was another rock jutting out just above her head. How in the hell was she to make her way past that? She almost lost her resolve...almost.

Judith Alexandra Beauchamp may have been many things, but a quitter was not one of them.

She climbed away from the safety of the ledge, moving sideways. She looked up, and little pebbles started to rain down on top of her head. Dust was in her eyes. OH Bloody hell! Was a rockslide starting? She let out a desperate cry, her bloodied fingers slipping.

"Why me?" she sobbed loudly, clawing at the rock, struggling to hold on, her body shaking. "I don't want to die," she cried out helplessly and then suddenly, Judith did something she never thought to do before.

She prayed.

If she made it out of this pit in one piece, she would change. She would find a nice man and settle down, be a better person. Become an asset to society, not a detriment. Tears streamed down her face, and she was still slipping. "Please Lord, forgive me. I can change, I swear. Please help me," she cried out as her fingers slipped completely from the rock.

Her body was weightless as she fell towards the jagged bottom of the ravine, her short life over too soon—flashing before her eyes. And when she thought all was lost, she came to an abrupt halt, stopping her descent.

"Lassie, I got you." Kinsley McGregor said as he held tightly to the girl's cloak, pulling her up to safety. "Sweet lass, are you all right?" he asked worriedly, pulling her the rest of the way up over the ledge, holding tightly to her and then took her into his embrace.

Judith kept her eyes shut a moment, not convinced her feet were resting on the solid ground once more. She listened to the strong brogue of her savior: he was a Scotsman.

Judith wasn't a big fan of Scotsmen, but a deal was a deal.

She kept her eyes closed, squeezing them tightly together, thanking the good Lord over and over in her mind for sending this man to save her. She knew it was more than luck; it was a sign from above and she would not let Him down.

She took a breath and slowly opened her eyes; calming her features to make sure her repulsion did not show. She knew what to expect, nothing short of a troll with beady little eyes and tufts of red, wiry hair poking from a nearly baldhead. She would be lucky if he had teeth.

Yes, she knew it was her due and she should be thankful for it. She would make it work though. She had to.

After all, she would not go back on her word to the Good Lord. Not after he gave her another chance.

She forced her eyes open. Her breath caught in her throat. Her knees went weak and she fell forward, unable to stand of her own volition.

The man holding her was without a doubt the most attractive man she had ever seen.

She closed her eyes quickly. "Please be real, please be real," she said. She peeked out from under her lashes at her savior's rugged profile and quickly shut her eyes again. Oh thank you! Thank you, Lord! She reached out and wrapped her arms tightly around the brawny man in front of her. She would not let him go...ever.

Yes, Judith knew there was more to a man than good looks, but if she had to be saddled with one for all eternity, it was a hell of a good start. She opened her eyes again, and tears of relief and joy ran down her face.

Kinsley's heart fluttered as he looked down at the girl, her eyes glittering like jewels, brimming with her tears. He lifted her face in his large hands, and smiled down at her as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs, gliding them across her cheeks.

Judith swallowed hard. She was able to do naught but stare. He was a large man with long, reddish-brown hair that barely touched his broad shoulders. Her fingers itched to intertwine themselves into the curling ends. She couldn't believe how handsome he was. A slight growth of beard covered his hard square jaw, accentuating his full lips that quirked slightly up at the corners in a ready smile.

He was not like Devlin in the least. No, this was a man.

Judith could have fallen over in gratitude and kissed the very ground he trod upon. Her knees buckled as a shock pierced her heart like a bolt of lightning. She would have fallen over if he wasn't holding her upright.

"Thank you for saving me," she sighed breathlessly and stood up on her toes, her shaking hands reaching around his broad shoulders as she gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Kinsley stared down at her. "Sweet lassie you warm my heart with your beauty and kindness."

Judith blinked and her mouth dropped open, forming a perfect oval. He just called her a beauty. No man had ever told her she was a beauty before.

"I feared I may not have gotten to you in time," he said, each word rolling off his tongue with his heavy brogue.

"How...?" Judith uttered the barely inaudible word.

"I saw the green from your cloak; it reminded me of the greenest grass of my homeland. I espied you from across the ravine, barely hanging on. You were a beacon, calling out to me like my own home, against this bleak, desolate landscape." He lifted his hand and waved it out to encompass the giant crevice in the ground.

Judith shook her head, again at a loss for words and hugged him tightly. That was three for the cloak. It was a good thing she kept it on. She stayed in his embrace, laying her cheek against his warm, hard chest, his worn plaid rough against her face.

Kinsley leaned forward and kissed her gently, just above her brow.

Judith shivered deliciously. His kiss was sweet...tender, but she could certainly do better than that. She pressed her body against his, lifted up off her feet onto the tips of her toes, and pulled his face down to her own as her mouth covered his. She kissed him with all the experience and gratitude she had. The kiss was utterly perfect, the one she had waited her entire life for.

He pulled away, a sad smile playing on his mouth. "Lass, surely you are an angel sent from the heavens above for my arms alone."

Judith's knees gave out again. She had been called many things in her life, but an angel was not ever one of them. It warmed her from the inside out, touching her very soul.

He rested his head on the top of hers. "I only wish I could stay and get to know you better, lass. It would have warmed my heart to spend time with you."

"What? You cannot leave." Judith started to panic. "You saved me. I owe you," she argued as she searched her brain for something else to say.

"You owe me nothing, sweet lass," he assured her as he rubbed the palms of his hands on her arms.

"Oh yes." Judith bobbed her head up and down with conviction. "Yes I do. I owe you my life. I take this very seriously. I am indebted to you until I can repay the debt." Judith had no idea where all this rubbish was coming from, but she was desperate. She would have said anything. "I will have to go with you," she added quickly, grasping.

He laughed lightly. "You don't know what you are saying. I am to be on a ship far from this place soon. I was on my way when I spotted you."

"A ship?" she squeaked. Judith hated ships; she had an aversion to water too. Of course, that was before. She had an aversion to Scotsmen too, until a few blessed moments ago. Maybe she needed a change. Yes, that was it. She promised to change and this certainly looked like a good change...a welcome change.

Kinsley cleared his throat, going on his gut, as he always did. "Sweet lass, if you have a mind to see a different place, I would love to take you with me," he said.

She blinked up at him unable to find the words she needed to say. She wasn't sure if she should look too eager. What would he think of her? Men always had a way of losing interest...

"I understand..." His face fell. You don't even know me. How can you begin to want to leave your home?" he rushed out, backtracking.

Judith stopped him. "Oh no, I'll go. I mean, I would love to go with you," she said with sincerity.

"You would?" he asked, disbelief sounding in his voice.

"Try to stop me," she nearly yelled, then clamped her mouth shut. She tried to read his expression, afraid she already gave too much away.

Kinsley breathed out a sigh of relief. "I have prayed for someone like you and it seems the Good Lord has answered my prayers." He threw his head back and laughed. It was a boisterous sound and it made her warm all over.

Judith looked up towards the sky, as the man who was surely sent from above held her tightly in his arms.

Yes, it would seem Judith Alexandra Beauchamp had a little bit of redemption left in her as well.

TIME FLIES WHEN YOU ARE HAVING FUN

Ravenhurst

SEBASTIAN and Katherine were spending almost every moment in each other's company. They barely got out of bed, only to end up back in it, sooner, rather than later.

Katherine looked at Sebastian, his naked body sprawled out in the middle of her borrowed bed with his head pillowed on his muscular arms. He was to be her husband tomorrow and she still couldn't believe it. It probably had to do with the fact that she still felt like an imposter, and was in constant fear the other shoe would drop and ruin her dreams of becoming Mrs. Sebastian de Winter.

Sebastian watched the play of emotions on her face through the reflection in the mirror. He still had a hard time accepting her story about traveling to the past. It sounded like rubbish to him but Milford, Devlin and even Grayson seemed to give credence to the story. Still, it was hard to accept. Then there was the story of his ancestor, the Raven Knight, and his true love, Marguerite, his former betrothed. Hell, it was almost easier to believe Katherine had indeed traveled to the past than to believe Marguerite was the long lost love of his ancestor from a few hundred years ago.

Exhaling, he looked up at one of the fat-belly cherubs on the bedpost. He made a face.

It sneered at him.

He blinked and sat up, rubbing his hands over his face, and looked again. It now looked normal. He shook his head, chalking it up to stress and worry. Once the wedding was over everything would be perfect...or so he hoped.

"Katherine?"

She turned in her seat, the action making the brocade dressing robe fall off her shoulder, giving him a glimpse of the delectable curve of her naked breast. "I was wondering about the necklace?"

"What about it?" she asked nervously, tugging the robe back up on her shoulder.

"Would you do it again? I mean, if you knew the consequences of your actions?"

"Do what again?"

"You know, take the necklace."

"Oh that," she let out a sigh of relief, then turned back towards the mirror and propped her elbow on top, tapping her chin with her finger. "Hmm, let me see. If I were told that borrowing an antique necklace could land me in another era of time, betrothed to a handsome, dashing, albeit sometimes insufferable Earl, would I have worn it still?"

"Hey!" A look of mock horror crossed his face.

She giggled, her shoulders shaking, making the robe slip once more. She didn't bother pulling it up this time. She turned serious again, regaining her contemplative look as she watched his handsome reflection in the mirror, her stomach flip-flopping.

A crease of worry formed between Sebastian's brows. He waited and waited. His stomach knotted. "Would you?" he asked again, pressing her for an answer.

She dropped her hand and turned to look at him once more, pursing her lips. "Hmm, could you pull the sheet away?"

Sebastian gave her a questioning look but obliged, sitting up fully. The sheet fell completely away revealing his incredible body. Waiting for her answer, he raked his hand through his hair and looked at her under heavily lidded eyes...waiting.

Katherine felt the familiar tug towards him and stood up from the dressing table, walking slowly towards him, untying the belt of her robe. The brocade robe slid down her naked body onto the floor. "What do you think?" she asked, trying to be coy, seductive. She wasn't sure she was accomplishing that feat though. "Tell me," he said, raking his eyes down the length of her naked body, the action spurring his own to respond instantly.

Katherine legs were like jelly as she crawled onto the bed and slid her shaking hands up his chest, pressing him back into the pillows. Leaning forward, her lips barely touched his. "You better believe I would."

Sebastian let out a low, throaty growl and rolled her onto her back, bracing his hands on either side. His long hair falling forward, he dipped his head down, barely touching her lips with his own. "I wonder if I would."

Her eyes widened. "What?" She began pushing against his chest.

Grabbing hold of her hands, he easily lifted them over her head, his body hovering above.

"Well?" she asked, frowning now.

"I'm not sure," he answered finally and then a sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he began moving his hips back and forth, settling his body between her thighs. He released one of her hands.

"You...you...fiend," she gasped, and lifted her fist, pummeling his chest lightly.

"There, there love. If you don't want to get burned you shouldn't position your sweet body so close to the flame," he said jokingly, and then slid his hand down between her thighs.

Katherine gasped, arching into his warm hand, while his finger teased, tantalized, making her writhe in pleasure. The tips of her fingers trailed over the taunt muscles on his back, scraping a bit harder than necessary. "What are you waiting for," she panted breathlessly, her hips rising to meet his hand as he slid his finger in and out of her body faster, making her burn from the exquisite torture.

Still smiling, he lowered his mouth and nipped at her lips, then her neck, eliciting a moan of pleasure in response. Then he stopped and pulled his hand away. Feigning a yawn, he rolled over onto his back and shut his eyes.

Katherine sat up and gawked down at him. "You're stopping?"

"What's the matter sweetheart?" he asked, lifting his hand and pushing a wayward curl out of the way.

"Why did you stop?"

"Payback," he said, giving her a boyish grin. The tips of his fingers trailed down her flesh, skimming her nipple. "Would you like me to continue?"

"No." She crossed her arms in a huff.

He reached down between her legs, caressing her gently. "You sure?" he asked, increasing the pressure.

She arched against his hand. "Yes," she gasped. "Please, don't stop," she panted breathily, her body on fire.

Sebastian let those words slide over him, warming him from the inside out. He was no stranger to those words. In fact, he had heard them many, many times before. Each woman begging for him to satiate the fire he knew was building deep down inside. Now, she was saying those words to him as well. A surge of smug satisfaction filled him. She was now the one begging for his ministrations in bed, just like all the others before her. This time was different though. She was different. She was the one exception to the rule, his rule. He didn't want to drive into her body and then leave her. No, with her, he wanted to stay, get to know her, be with her for the rest of his days and even then, he didn't think he would tire from her. This realization shook him to his core, spurring him to claim her for his own.

Reaching out he wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her closer, his mouth seizing hers in a hungry kiss, scorching her, branding her for his own. In moments, he was inside her, claiming her body as well, gliding in and out at a rigorous pace. Once her hands slid over his buttocks, squeezing, he groaned in pleasure. This, what he was doing to her, was so far beyond anything he had ever felt, it staggered him completely, sending ripples of pleasure through him.

For once, instead of letting his mind rule his actions he let his heart take control. "Oh God...that's it love," he moaned, plunging deeply, giving her everything her body craved. Lifting her thighs, he spread her legs wider.

"Sebastian," she cried out, gripping his forearms tighter, her nails biting into his skin.

Immense pleasure poured over him hearing his name from her lips. Quickly he took them both to the edge, then stilled his body, waiting for her to say the words out loud he so desperately wanted, no, the words he needed hear her say.

"I love you Sebastian...," she cried, writhing under his body, losing every ounce of control, as she plunged headlong into the abyss before shattering completely.

Finally.

A low growl sounded from his throat, he gripped her hips tighter, thrusting deeper, harder...sliding in and out of her body, until he too finally lost every ounce of control, exploding deep inside of her body.

Breathing heavily, he leaned forward, taking her face in his hands. "I love you...," he murmured softly, and pressed his lips to hers.

Leaning up on his elbows he smoothed her wet hair away from her face, his body pressing on top of hers, smiling down at her, his beautiful face taking on a boyish innocence. Pieces of his dark hair fell forward across his brow as he lowered his mouth to hers again, claiming it once more. Rolling off her body, he pulled her with him, holding her tightly.

Tangled in one another's embrace, they both found an everlasting love that time could not forget.

♥

The story continues with RAVENHURST VOL II

Find out what happens next...

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KEEP READING TO CHECK OUT LORRAINE'S OTHER SERIES

ALL BOOKS IN THE RAVENHURST SERIES

RAVENHURST VOL I

RAVENHURST VOL II

RAVENHURST VOL III

RAVENHURST A VICTORIAN CHRISTMAS

LUCIAN

A MODERN DAY CHRISTMAS

SCOTTISH TIME TRAVEL SERIES

LOST IN THE HIGHLANDS

Irresistible characters, fresh voice, and a hero to die for...what's there not to like!" Jamie Scott, Award Winning Author

A Bewitching Interactive Scottish Time Travel Romance—Magic, Mystery, Steamy Romance, Treasure, A Loch Monster, and a whole lot of Hunky Highlanders

When Paige Walsh attends the annual Scottish Highland Games on Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina and makes a deal with a Gypsy, little does she know that her illustrious plans to find a Hunky Highlander for her own would backfire. Instead of one man wearing a kilt, she somehow ends up in the past, facing an entire clan of them.

Gavin de Grey, the current laird of Greystone Castle, located on the Northwest shore of Loch Morar, is cursed. Or so he had been told on numerous occasions throughout his life by his family and also the women he bedded. Sentenced to death for a paltry crime or two, mayhap three, Gavin would tend to agree. However, after weeks of imprisonment he believes his luck may have just turned around. When an old crone strikes a deal with him for his freedom in return for the smallest of favors, he cannot refuse.

Together, Gavin and Paige must not only battle against their differences, but also, their growing feelings for one another. Will Gavin make the ultimate sacrifice to break the curse or will he damn them all for eternity?

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PARANORMAL ROMANCE

EDENBROOKE HOLLOW SERIES

A Bewitching Paranormal Time Travel Romance

Novice witch Melody Granger is on a mission to not only learn the spells she needs to get into the elite circle within her coven but also get the guy of her dreams with one. But when she inadvertently buys a defective spell book from a Charlatan at the local Potions, Broomsticks, and Beyond and her spells start to backfire she realizes that someone may not only be trying to derail her carefully laid plans to join the elite circle within her coven but also get rid of her for good.

Derrick St. Claire -A Vampire with an insatiable appetite... striking good looks and too much money to spend in his many lifetimes wants his ancestral home back from the Black Hat Society's Patronesses who have taken it over for their coven and yearly witches' ball. As far as he is concerned, like oil and water, Witches and Vampires don't mix, but when he encounters Melody Granger, a novice witch with a penchant for getting herself into trouble he realizes that some rules, even his own, are made to be broken.

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BRIARCLIFF SERIES

"A paranormal romance for those who are not afraid of the dark" Sookie Stackhouse Reviews

The paranormal romance that centers the story and pulls you into its embrace like a lover you had forgotten how much you enjoyed kissing. There is mystery and more than anything there is the need to find out what dark secret lies at the core of it all.

Briarcliff Township may look like any other town snuggled deep within the forests of the New England coastline but it harbors a dark secret. When the winds change, old stirrings arise from forgotten misdeeds and a thirst for vengeance. Something wicked this way comes...

TRY IT FREE!

# _Personal letter from Lorraine_ -

Dear Readers,

I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading the first book in my Ravenhurst Series. Writing these books been a labor of love and an incredible adventure for me.

I've a predilection for spooky old houses and imagined Ravenhurst as such. But magnificent too with secret passageways, antiques, treasures, stories to be told from the former occupants, perhaps even a journal or two, with clues to a murder...even now, seven books later, I can't seem to stop wanting to write more about Ravenhurst. Although, I am trying to get better about making them standalones in the series while still keeping many of the original characters relevant, which is no easy task.

I try really hard to write books that I would love to read, ones that make me want to rush to grab a good cup of tea or coffee (drink of choice) and immerse myself once again in my characters worlds. And yes, I know most of my characters are flawed, but that is how I write, I can't help it. So if for some reason my writing style offends you, that was never my intent.

I write for myself and am fortunate enough to have some amazing readers who also enjoy my stories.

I know there are many books to choose from, so I really do appreciate you taking a chance on mine. And I sincerely hope you will want to continue your adventure through time with my characters and me.

If not, thanks again for giving my book a try.

Lorraine Beaumont ♥

# ABOUT LORRAINE

Lorraine Beaumont is a #1 International and a #1 Bestselling Author and an Award-Winning poet. Even though she writes is several genres' all of her books are written with an ensemble cast of characters, filled with plenty twists and turns that will keep you guessing until the very end. She has four series to date and is in the process of working on another series.

She lives in what she calls (Farm Country) Maryland with her family and is currently working on her next novel. For more information, connect with her online: She LOVES hearing for her readers!

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