Lost in Time: His Lady in Green - Chapter 4

By Terri Brisbin 

   
     Eve turned left and right trying to get her bearings. The door to the stairway and down to the Great Hall was here, she had only to find it to find Sebastian. Counting her steps back, she gazed at the next door as though trying to divine if it was the one. Turning the knob, she pushed it open.

     ‘Of all the ways I planned to lay claim to my rightful inheritance,’ the deep voice said with a tinge of Highland burr, ‘I never thought it would be by your visit, Milady in Green.’ 

     Without thought, her hand touched the emeralds at her neck as she shook her head. Eve spun around to find a ruggedly handsome man staring at her.  Auburn highlights gleamed in the light from the fire next to him. As tall as Sebastian, but much more muscular, she thought of a warrior she’d seen in a movie set in the medieval Highlands.

     But, this was the third time someone thought her some kind of vision or omen or ghost. The cool air chilling her bare skin made her aware she was truly alive, though perhaps having a dream.  When he tilted his head in greeting and rose from the chair, the heat and the intensity in his gaze made her take a step back.

     ‘I do not understand,’ she said, glancing for the door through which she’d entered. ‘I was only trying to find for the Great Hall.’

     ‘Ah,’ he whispered, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips, ‘you have nothing to fear from me, Lady. Even if you appeared at my side before my cousin in the Great Hall, he, they would deny my claim to the title and castle Meryngham and all the noble Daubenay wealth.’

     Eve searched her memories of the Daubenay family’s history and could not remember any Scottish claimants in the records she’d studied. But this man was very clearly Scottish.

     ‘Who are you?’ she finally asked, watching as he lifted his deep green gaze first to the emeralds nestled around her neck and then to her face.

     ‘I am Dougal MacKinnon of Glen Ayre,’ he said, now touching his mouth to the back of her hand. The heat of just that touch travelled up her body and made her body react with a sensual tremble.  ‘The rightful heir to Meryngham.’

     Eve pulled away, rubbing her hands on her now-chilled arms. ‘A Scot as heir to Meryngham?’ She shook her head and frowned. ‘What claim do you have?’

     Dougal walked to the bed, the very large bed she had not noticed until now, and picked a length of plaid from it. He shook it out as he approached and then tossed it around her, gathering the edges in front. The warmth of it, and the warmth that pulsed through her at his nearness, spread until the deep chill left her. She thought him done, but he placed his hands on her shoulders and began rubbing her arms.

     ‘The best of all claims—that of blood. My father was heir before his death and I stood to inherit it as his son.’

     
     ‘And you did not?’ she asked. There were very few reasons why a male heir would not inherit, the most common being—

     ‘Aye, a bastard they say I am.’  It explained much, but not all. Curious, Eve stepped out of his grasp and waited for him to decry that status.  But he did not.  ‘My father visited his northern properties and fell in love with my mother. He knew his family would not accept her, but he claimed her in the old, Highland tradition. Handfasting made me legitimate.’ His voice grew rough then, anger infusing it with a somehow more-appealing deepness in tone.  ‘No matter what these Sassenach dogs say.’

     When he rose to his full height and crossed his arms over his wide, strong chest, she knew she did not want to be this man’s enemy. It was the fleeting expression of pain in his green eyes that made her heart want. . . to help him and more. Was he truly the heir? If she accompanied him to the Great Hall, would her presence confirm his claim? Could it be that easy?

‘Come,’ he said, stepping closer and offering his hand to her. ‘Shall we give it a try?’ Was he a mind-reader, too? 

     The warmth of his hand drew her in and the heat in his mouth as it touched, no, claimed hers offered her a strong invitation to remain here with him. Her heart already believed him and wanted to help him right the wrong dealt to him. . . .

     But dare she?

     Eve lifted her face from his and pulled from the possessive embrace to meet his gaze. She did not know what was going on here and now, but somewhere Sebastian waited for her.  She took a step and then another back towards the door. He recognized her action, but did not try to stop her by force. He used his words instead.

     ‘The Lady in Green comes twice to those who do not deserve her, but a third time only to the man who can claim her heart and soul.  Come back to me,’ he whispered, holding out that tempting hand once more to her. ‘Come back, Milady.’

     ‘Eve,’ she said. ‘My name is Eve.’ It mattered somehow to her that he know she was not some kind of legend, but a woman of flesh and blood, heart and soul.

      ‘Oh, aye, Eve,’ he said as a wicked, inviting smile lifted the edge of the mouth she’d just kissed. ‘Come back to me, Eve.’

     Eve turned and raced to the door, out of breath from the complete surrender her body and soul were urging. Lifting the latch on the heavy, wooden door, she tugged it open and stumbled into the corridor. The door slammed behind her, leaving her. . . .

  

Ah....Eve discovered a sexy Scottish Highlander behind the door this time. What about you -- would you stay with Dougal MacKinnon or try to return to Sebastian? A difficult decision to make. . . Stop back tomorrow to find out Eve's next step in her journey through time! 

 

Lady in Green: Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Rafe the Cavalier must be a fantasy, but Eve’s senses told her he was real. High time she found Sebastian and forgot him then, so she reached for the next door handle and told herself the stairs must be on the other side this time. 

‘Wrong again,’ she muttered, shaking her head to deny this new illusion.

Warmth and a mixture of sharp and sweet scents to keep moths, and worse, at bay drew her into a different world. For a second she took in rich colours and textures and a table overflowing with charts and papers, then a man with wicked blue eyes stepped towards her. Arrogant as sin and handsome as ten devils, his look ran hot promises over curves outlined by her expensively simple dress.

‘I am keen to get to the heart of things as any man, sweetheart, but you must be cold as charity dressed like that,’ he said with a smile that was half courtier and half pirate.

‘I’m quite warm,’ she said regally and it was true enough.

His loose shirt was undone and his sleek muscles and tanned skin invited touch. His crow black hair shone in the candlelight and one earring set with a matchless pearl should make him ridiculous. Eve decided if he was getting into a Shakespearian role he was far too good to need practise. 

‘Take your shift off then, so I can see how perfect the Daubenay Emeralds look against only your silken skin, my lady,’ he invited huskily.

‘Certainly not, how dare you?’ 

‘Dare all to win all,’ he asserted with a shrug that spoke of a dangerous man who lived a dangerous life, and loved every minute of it.

‘So women must fall at your feet and the treasures of the Orient pour into your hands? No, Mr Daubenay, you’re not king of the world.’

‘How could I be when I serve great Gloriana? Our Queen made me Sir Ranulf of that name, so I am neither mister nor ingrate. Leave over railing at me like a wife and listen for us as we could be, Lady in Green. Can you hear the whisper of us two as lovers on the air as I do? I’ll make the stars a crown nigh bright enough to match your hair and furnish it with gems even nearer your eyes than these, my love.’

‘I’m not your love,’ she murmured half-heartedly, as if he wasn’t heady and sense stealing as too much champagne.

‘You could be,’ he said so seriously she believed him and shivered.

He carried her hand to her lips and she felt honed strength and the promise and demand of his mouth on her skin, as if he was trying to imprint her heart. Ranulf turned her hand palm up so his next kiss lay hot and potent there.

‘Stay, lady,’ he demanded and raised his head to stare into her dazzled eyes. ‘They say you haunt a man for life – stay and share mine instead.’

‘I can’t.’

Eve wondered if a modern woman and a Tudor adventurer could love even as she whispered her denial. Backing out of the room with her eyes on Sir Ranulf, she wondered how he could be so like and yet so unlike Sebastian. In the corridor again she faced the phalanx of closed doors in front her and felt a guilty thrill at the idea of meeting any rogue males waiting on the other side. 

* * *

 
English author Elizabeth Beacon took the third part of Eve's surprising journey and had enormous fun throwing a new challenge at the poor girl. Eve promises to be a match for any rascally ancestor of Sebastian's she meets on her path to true love and took this one on with her usual courage and fine appreciation of a sexy hero. Visit Elizabeth's website at: www.elizabethbeacon.co.uk

Elizabeth Beacon's Seaborne Trilogy continues with:

The Scarred Earl, Harlequin Historical, May 2013
The Black Sheep's Return, Harlequin Historical, August 2013

His Lady In Green: Chapter Two

Even in candlelight this was obviously a bedchamber, not a stairwell.  Eve turned and found the door had closed silently behind her. Mist swirled. Strange, it must have been wood smoke drifting from the open fire.

Eve tugged at the handle. It stuck. ‘Oh, for goodness sake.’ She fought the impulse to hammer on the heavy panels: there would be a phone by the bed, just as there was in her room, she’d ring down and someone would come. She walked across the bare boards into the wash of firelight. ‘Aagh!’

‘I am sorry, Mistress. I startled you.’ The man who had been sprawled in one of the great oak chairs before the hearth stood, rising to a familiar six foot plus of broad-shouldered male.

‘Oh, Sebastian! You scared the living daylights out of me. Sebastian?‘

‘You mistake me for my brother, Mistress.’ The man bowed with a courtly elegance. ‘Rafe Daubenay, your servant.’

‘He did not tell me he had a brother.’ Surely this man was older, a little, than Sebastian. There was a honed edge to him that spoke of more than assiduous attendance at the gym. ‘Are you a soldier?’ It was a guess, but she could visualise him with a weapon in his hand. Then she realised that there was one at his side: a sword. A sword?

‘Of course I am a soldier.’ His mouth hardened. ‘And in the rightful army, that of our sovereign lord, the king. Sebastian skulks at home, dithering over which side to take when Charles needs every sword at his side. Especially now.’ The fierce anger in his voice ebbed and suddenly she saw he was beyond tired. Deep lines bracketed the familiar mouth, there were shadows under the blue eyes.
His hair was long, curling to his collar. His broad lace collar. Eve made herself focus on something other than his face. White, wide-sleeved shirt, soiled and ripped, buckskin beeches, high black boots. A re-enactor, of course. She pulled a deep breath down to her diaphragm. Honestly, you’ll be imagining ghosts next. She had surprised one of the family rehearsing for an English Civil War re-enactment, that was all. They got very deeply into character, she knew from a friend, an Anglo-Saxon warrior in a local group.

‘Which re-enactment group are you with?’ she asked and wished her heart would stop thumping quite so hard. Anyone would think something was wrong. But it is. The house smelled wrong – of beeswax, wood smoke, lavender. It sounded wrong, a deep silence, when before the faint music from the Great Hall had penetrated everywhere. The air was cool as though the central heating had been off for hours
‘Re-enactment?’ He seemed baffled.
‘Or perhaps you have been to a masquerade?’ Eve persisted, desperate now for a logical explanation. He was the perfect Cavalier. There was a plumed hat on the table, a coat with deep buttoned cuffs on the foot of the four-poster bed.

‘A masque?’ His laugh was harsh. ‘A slaughter… all too real.’ He swayed and Eve realised the stains on his sleeve were dried blood. ‘The bloody field of Naseby, the end of the kingdom if we cannot rally and fight on.’

‘You are hurt.’ She caught at his arm, solid and warm through the fine linen, and realised that she had half expected her hand to go right through. ‘You are not a ghost.’ She said it out loud and he stared as he fell back into the chair, pulling her down to kneel by his side. She could not drag her eyes from that intense blue stare.

‘No, I am not. But you are, I think. I never believed in the Lady in Green before. They say every heir sees her, that she wears the Meryngham emeralds.’ One long finger traced the necklace at her throat and Eve trembled, even as her mind reeled. Rafe is real? He had just fought at the battle of Naseby. Her mind scrabbled for the date. Sixteen forty… 1645.

His touch felt… right. She laid her hand on his knee to steady herself and felt the force of attraction lance through her. ‘I am real, as real as you.’

Rafe reached out and pulled her towards him. She smelt black powder, sweat, the metallic tang of blood, leather and horse. It was shockingly male. Eve swayed forwards.
‘They say she comes twice and that if there is a third time, she will stay. No-one knows if she ever has.’ His mouth found hers, arrogant, demanding. Then he lifted his head and said simply, ‘Stay. Stay with me now.’

‘Yes… No!’ The heat of him, the taste… This was insane, she was dreaming, she must be. Eve shot to her feet, backed away until her spine met the carved door panels with a painful reality. She wrenched at the handle and then she was in the corridor, dizzy, shaking. All the doors were closed. Which one had it been?

Louise Allen
 Lousie Allen is the auhtor of more than forty historical romances.
 Scandal in the Regency Ballroom -
Out in April in a special two-in-one edition - two of my favourite novels, both with heroines outside the world of the ton. In No Place for a Lady Bree Mallory helps run the family stage coach company – as did many real women in the late Georgian period – so when she attracts the attention of Nonesuch whip Max Dysart, Earl of Penrith, it can hardly be her eligibility for marriage that draws him to her!
Lily France is a very wealthy heiress with a fortune derived from trade and a family with humble origins. In Not Quie a Lady Lily, who has more money than taste, a love of shopping and no experience at all of not getting her own way, is determined to fulfil her late father’s dream that his grandsons would bear titles. What Lily needs is an impoverished nobleman. What impoverished nobleman Jack Lovell, Earl of Allerton needs is an investor for his mines, not to humble his pride by marrying money. When Lily proposes to him the sparks really begin to fly!

Lost in Time: His Lady in Green

Following on from the success of Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure, the Harlequin Historical authors are writing another round robin story and the chapters will be published here over the next month.

Each day an author will write a chapter following on from the previous one, having never seen it before. No one knows where the story is going, or where it will end up.

This is a busman's holiday for the eleven authors involved. We all lock ourselves away in our private worlds to write our own books, creating a complete story from beginning to end. Here we are letting our imaginations fly as we each contribute two chapters to this story, never knowing where we will be going until we get there!

Our story is a time-travelling epic. We started with the premise of a magnificent castle, a priceless necklace and of course a brave and heroic lady. Oh, and heroes to die for (yes, dear reader that is heroes – it is not a typo).

Come with us on this adventure of a lifetime – or, maybe several lifetimes…………………..

CHAPTER ONE

Eve stared at her reflection. She could hardly believe that she, little Eve Wells, engineer's daughter, coalminer's granddaughter, was here in Meryngham Castle. With her golden hair piled up and in a new and elegant ball gown, she was about to attend the midsummer ball with Sebastian Richard Edward Daubenay, son and heir of the 14^th Earl of Meryngham. Also, she was pretty sure Sebastian was going to propose tonight – why else had he given her the Meryngham emeralds to wear?

They had met at a conference on research and preservation of Britain's major historical buildings. She had seen Sebastian coming towards her during a break, tall, dark and so very, very handsome. She looked up into his blue eyes and the world fell away. She shook so much that her cup rattled in its saucer and Sebastian reached out and took it from her, saying with his devastating smile, 'Here, let me take that before you drop it.'

That was six weeks ago and since then they had been together as much as their respective work would allow.

'Eve? You ready?' Sebastian came in, breath-taking in a dinner jacket as black as his raven hair. He gave a low whistle. 'Gorgeous. I knew it, those emeralds are a perfect match for your eyes, and your gown. Come and meet the parents before the party gets started. They're waiting for us in the great hall.'

He took her hand, smiling as he felt her hesitation.

'Nervous?’

'Of course. I am not in the habit of going to parties and meeting dukes and earls and the like – '

Sebastian laughed. 'No dukes, I promise you! Although there might be the odd viscount. Don't worry, they will all love you as I do.'

Eve’s heart did a somersault as he led her out of the room. Had he really said that? Did he really mean it? The thought thrilled her, but it was a little frightening, too.

Sebastian led her through a mind-numbing succession of passages. There was no time to admire the many portraits they passed, or even to ask about the unusual one of a man in full Highland dress. However, when they reached the great hall with its colourful tapestries and hunting trophies she did come to a stop.

'Buffalo? Buffalo, Sebastian?' She pointed to the horns displayed proudly between the more traditional antlers.

Sebastian glanced down at her, a smile quirking his mouth.

'One of my ancestors decided to try his luck in the Wild West. Come on, Ma and Pa are over there, by the door.  I'll introduce you.'

The earl, an older version of Sebastian, kissed her cheek and the countess held out her hand.

'Eve, isn't it? Welcome, my dear.  Sebastian tells me you are a genealogist. There will be plenty to interest you here. The Daubenays go back to the Conquest, with all sorts of rakes and rogues in their history.'  Lady Meryngham cast a laughing glance at her husband. 'That was the reason I married into the family.'

'Ah, but I made Eve promise to leave work behind for the weekend.' Sebastian put his arm around her and she relaxed, reassured by his presence.  

She said, teasingly, 'I can't help taking a professional interest in your ancestors, Sebastian.'

His arm tightened. 'There is only one member of this family I want you to be interested in.'

His words, murmured in a voice as deep and rich as chocolate, sent a delicious shiver running through her.

*

It was a magical evening. Sebastian was obliged to socialise, of course, but he never left Eve alone for long and just before midnight he took her out onto the balcony.

'Happy?' He slid his arms around her.

'Oh yes.' When he was near she felt her world was complete, but – six weeks! Could it really be love, or was it merely that she felt like Cinderella, beguiled by his looks and his wealth - and the fact that he was to inherit this massive, wonderful castle? If only she could be sure…

'Good, because there's something I want – hell!' Sebastian's sexy murmur ended abruptly. 'Sorry, your shoulder strap is broken. I was sliding my finger beneath it when it just…came away.'

'That's strange, I made a point of checking the stitching because I didn't want to embarrass myself with a wardrobe malfunction! Never mind, I've a sewing kit in my room.'

'I'll show you the way, don't want you getting lost. This place has been rebuilt and expanded so much over the centuries there are places that even I know nothing about.' He whisked her back through the dancers. Minutes later they reached her room.

'Do you need any help?'

The look in his eye told her that if he stayed they would not see the end of the party. Tempting, but not allowed.

She shook her head.

'No, I will be fine now. You should go back to your guests.'

'As you sure you can you find your way?'

'Of course, I've done it several times already today.' She gave him a little push. 'Now go and do your duty. '

With a final, lingering kiss he left her and, smiling, she set to work mending her strap.

It was almost midnight when Eve left her room again. She must hurry. The passages looked different, somehow. Longer and darker. Why had she not noticed before that they were lit only by candles?  Soon she had to admit that she was lost. Perhaps one of these doors would lead her to the stairs.  Only one way to find out.

She grasped the handle of the first door and pushed…….