Shadow Musique
By K. E. Rodgers
Smashwords Edition
****
PUBLISHED BY:
K.E. Rodgers on Smashwords
Copyright © July 2010
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places are either the product of the authors imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is coincidental and should be seen as such.
Chapter 1-
Sara Meadows was an ordinary, well not completely ordinary, woman living in the States and like all typical American women she had a much romanticized view of Great Britain; England specifically. Something a kin to vast stretches of gently rolling land and castles and ancient estates that were built when her country was a little blip on the world’s radar. But her musings and romantic dreams about this land didn’t factor in a terrible storm that threatened to blow her and her tiny rental car right off the road.
Her fingers held tightly to the steering wheel as she leaned ever closer to the front windshield that was beginning to fog up on the inside. Holding on with one hand she wiped her fingers over the glass. The wind took that as an open invitation to push another gust against the side of the car. With luck and some otherworldly hand from above she managed not to careen herself off the dirt road.
“I have no idea where I’m going,” she spoke aloud to no one but herself. It was well past dark now and only an idiot or a stubborn man, which she fit neither of these categories, would continue to drive endlessly through this horrible weather on some emotional whim set off in her head by a very beautiful, yet sad dream.
Sara needed to find someplace to stop and she hoped that the English were as hospitable as she believed. If not, then she would sleep in her cramped little rental until the storm passed or the sun came up, whatever came to pass first.
There was a tiny beacon of light up ahead, penetrating through the gloom and the rain. And out of nowhere she had a strange sensation of being on the right path, as if she was being pulled toward it like a soul into the arms of heaven. Sara followed that light, not sure what was at the end, but knowing with an unerring certainty that it would lead her to something profound.
The large iron gates where set wide open and pulled back as if someone had been awaiting her arrival. The beacon twinkled in the distance, moving as if it were alive.
Sara rolled the car steadily through the gates, her eyes focused on the road and the beacon in front of her, trying to see through the heavy rain. Just as her car passed the opening a release from some invisible hold slammed the gates shut with the sound of a heavy clank that suggested they were now locked. If Sara were superstitious, which under normal circumstances she was not, she would have found that gate stunt rather ominous.
The gravel driveway, a long and winding stretch of road that seemed almost endless at first, gave way to what could only be described as a crumbling country estate. Even in the dark with only the car headlights to guide her she could see the structure had gone through some hardship and was left to molder like an elderly person in a nursing facility.
Parking her car as close to the building as possible without running over the moss covered marble statues and broken water feature she pulled her purse from the passenger seat and made a less than lady-like run for it. It was still a good distance to the estate doors and by the time she got there she was thoroughly soaked.
Just as Sara reached the tall double doors a crack of lightening struck an old oak tree a mere ten feet away from her. She screamed, both from shock and surprise as she actually felt the electricity ark from the tree to her body, setting the tiny hairs on her arm on instant alert.
“Can I help you?” a voice whispered from the crack in the now open doors. He was an average sized man, about two inches taller than her with a long patrician nose and ears with large lobes that stuck out from a head that sprouted a mass of white-blonde hair. He repeated himself when Sara continued to just stare at him. He looked like he had been struck by lightning too as there was an almost electrical quality to his hair, not in color, but texture.
“Hi,” she answered finally, placing the best smile she could manage under the circumstances on her face. Close friends of hers always said that she was pretty enough, but it was when she smiled that she became a beauty. “My names Sara Meadows, I’m lost as you can see and this storm is rather dangerous to be driving around in. Do you mind if I come in until it clears up?”
The man looked wide-eyed for a few seconds before he nodded and stepped back, letting her enter. Another crack reverberated in the sky and Sara hurried inside as the heavy front doors closed themselves behind her without the aid of the man.
It was almost completely dark inside. When she’d been outside she hadn’t taken much time to notice if the rest of the house was lit up or not. As for the beacon, it had vanished once the estate had come into view of her headlights. From what she could see now in the candle lit foyer she imagined that they either had a power outage due to the storm or they were behind on their bill.
The place was huge and with only the sparse lighting seemed suspended in another time; an estate that would fit well in one of the Brontë sister’s novels. She could never afford a home like this. Half her yearly salary as a mid-level accountant in Indianapolis would go just for heating and lighting this ancient architectural beast. Of course now there wasn’t even half a salary, let alone a whole one to make pretend monetary speculations with. At this moment she was that gruesome word, unemployed. Put a ‘un’ in front of a word and it’s so unappealing.
“May I take your coat from you, Madam?” the white-blonde headed man asked Sara in a voice that could only be bred into a butler of old. He looked to be somewhere in his early fifties.
“Sure,” she answered back, taking the soggy thing off and holding it out to him. He took her coat, holding it by the shoulders as it dripped on the thick Persian rug beneath their feet. Walking a short distance away down a hallway he returned after several minutes with a genuine smile on his face.
“I’ve informed the rest of the servants that we will be having a guest tonight.” He took a silver candelabrum from a nearby table and handed it to Sara, taking a moment to light the new candle stalks as she held the base. “Adele will be down in a moment to take you to your room.”
Just as he spoke, as if on cue, Adele made her entrance coming down the wide marble staircase with a dark runner that had seen and felt many feet on its surface. She too wore a similar smile, one that was a notch up from pleased and almost like awe.
“I’ll take you to your room, Miss,” she stumbled on a name. Adele looked to the butler who had in his enthusiasm forgotten her name. He turned an apologetic eye to Sara who took the initiative to finish for him before he had to ask.
“Sara Meadows,” Sara offered easily. “And you’re Adele I take it.” Adele seamed to blush at that statement. She nodded and curtsied at Sara making her feel a little awkward with the attention. “I won’t be staying long so don’t go to any trouble on my account,” she added. Both these people looked like they’d stepped right off the screen of an adaptation of some Jane Austin novel. The owner must be an eccentric lord, Sara thought, to have employees – servants to him – dress like they were in some regency romance novel.
“Oh no,” Adele contradicted. “You are no trouble at all, Miss Meadows,” she said in a sweet voice that matched her equally sweet and pretty young face. Her dark brown curls bobbed up and down from a white capped head as she spoke. “We are lucky to have you. It’s been so long since…” She was cut off when the butler covered her mouth in a most un-butler like moment.
“Let Adele take you to your rooms, Miss Meadows,” he said, finishing for the young chamber maid. “Be assured it is our pleasure to have you staying at Stirling Manor.” He removed his hand eyeing the young servant who bowed her head in shame for a moment. Sara was completely lost at this point in the conversation. The butler then gestured to Sara to follow Adele up the stairs.
When they were about half way up Adele suddenly stopped mid-step, turning about quickly so she could peer over the ledge, looking down at the butler on the floor below them. In a voice not much louder than a whisper she asked, “Shall I put her next to the master’s suite, Mr. Wells?”
Mr. Wells shook his white-blonde head emphatically putting a harsh frown on his face. “No,” he barked back, but in the same hushed tone. “Put her down the hall at the farthest end. It will be safer that way.” It was after that last statement that he looked to find Sara’s shocked expression, his own expression drawing in surprise at realizing he might have said more than he should.
Chapter 2-
Adele stepped aside letting Sara walk through the open door into her suite at the end of the hall. The door had simply pulled itself open, again as if by an unseen hand.
“One of the servants will be getting your things from the auto-car. I’ll make sure it is brought to the right room.” Adele took the candelabrum from her hands, placing it upon a low dresser. With her single candle stick, the one she’d come down the stairs with, she moved about the room setting to light the lamps in the room.
“Is there a power outage in this area?” Sara asked as she watched the maid walk about the room. There was something odd about her that reminded her of Mr. Wells. It was more of a feeling than anything else. For some reason they just didn’t seem to ‘fit’ in this world. It was probably because their clothes looked more than outdated.
Adele returned to Sara, the single candle in her hand casting shadows over her pale complexion. Sara always found it fascinating how many of the English had that pale peaches and cream complexion. She felt she could fit right in with them as her own skin was naturally pale. When she went in the sun she freckled horribly.
“No,” Adele answered, looking slightly confused.
“Oh,” Sara said, thinking it wise not to ask about their financial situation.
Adele went back to work, folding down the bed and asking if Sara wanted anything from the kitchens.
“Just some tea if that’s not too much trouble. Thank you.” Adele looked taken back for several seconds, her pale brown eyes blinking rapidly as she looked at Sara like she was an apparition. Apparently 'thank you' was not a phrase she heard a lot in this house.
The door was flung open then and a strapping, all limbs, young man barreled into the room. He was trying to carry her suitcase and her carry-on bags all at once, looking like a weight lifter as he pushed through the almost too narrow doorway.
“Be careful,” Adele yelled at the youth. “Don’t break my ladies personal things, you great dolt." He made some mumbling apology as he carefully tumbled the suitcases onto the floor. Making a deep bow he backed out of the room, stumbling at the last second before he caught himself. He also had an ‘awe’ look on his face as he stared at Sara from the open doorway. The door then closed itself in his face, but not from any hand that Sara could see.
“Is this place haunted or something?” Sara asked aloud. The lamps in the room dulled and brightened at the utterance of those words as if in an answer.
“Why would you say something like that, my lady?” Adele made a giggle, trying to play off the scene that they had both witnessed.
It didn’t do any good; Sara knew something of a supernatural quality was going on in this place. There wasn’t a house in the entire country that couldn’t boast the declaration of being haunted. But Stirling Manor had a distinction of being more than just a little haunted; it was way high on the scale of paranormal anomalies. Sara couldn’t explain it, but it was true all the same. And this house had called her to it.
“The master would like you to join him in his library,” Mr. Wells piped in from the open door. Sara didn’t remember hearing it open again. “Adele can help you freshen up and I’ll see that some tea is brought to you there.” He was gone before Sara could decline the offer, the door closing itself again.
Adele was already busily unpacking her suitcase when Sara realized what the woman was doing. “You don’t need to do that, Adele,” Sara exclaimed, coming to take the silky nightgown out of the maid’s hands. It took a strong tug to get the other woman to let go. When she finally did it was with a look of sadness or it could have been disappointment.
“I won’t be staying here more than a night,” Sara clarified, “So you needn’t bother unpacking.”
Then a look of joy came to Adele’s face. With the flickering lamps in the room the shadows cast an almost maniacal quality to her features. In the next flick of the lights it was gone. “But the storm,” she said. “It is sure to last for days. You won’t be able to leave till then.”
Taking back the silk night gown with a satisfied grin Adele returned to putting Sara’s belongings away. Quicker than it seemed possible all her clothing was put away along with her toiletries and small personal items, which Adele set about the room.
Sara sat down in front of the antique vanity watching as Adele flitted about the room in that otherworldly manor that all the servants seemed to exude. Adele held up a dark blue/black dress that she’d set aside on the canopy bed, bringing it over to where Sara sat.
“This would look lovely on you.”
Sara nodded in agreement. She’d purchased it in London during the first leg of her vacation for an astronomical price because she believed the dress had spoken to her. As if clothes could actually talk. But it was the same dress she’d worn in her dream; a dream she’d had repeatedly and long before coming to England. “There are shoes to match,” Sara said, her voice suddenly choked with emotion.
“You should wear this to meet his lordship, my lady. I’ll help you do your hair if you’d like.” Adele reached out and gently tugged her odd colored hair. “Your hair is very soft. Why is it so short though?”
Sara fingered her hair, running it through the soft curl. It wasn’t really short, falling to just below her shoulder blades. The base color was a darker shade than Adele’s, but streaked through with tiny strands of white-blonde that was not cosmetic. Her mother had told her it was a gift of divine wisdom. The kids at school had said it was because she’d seen a ghost and it had scared some of the coloring out.
Adele stood by as an attentive servant, taking discarded bits of drenched clothing and providing new ones. Perhaps it was merely coincidence that each new article Adele handed her was one that Sara had purchased while here on vacation. The new bra with the daring lace netting with the matching skimpy underwear and even the sheer silk stockings were all new.
When the dress was zipped up her back Sara felt almost as if she were a new person. No, she corrected herself; she felt she was the woman she was supposed to be.
After a few more minutes of fussing with her hair Adele deemed Sara acceptable enough to be introduced to the lord of this twilight lit manor.
“Do not forget your candle, my lady,” Adele said before escorting her out into the dark hallway. “It is very dark in the house at night and it is not safe to be caught without a light.”
Sara shook her head in understanding.
They descended down the gloomy hallway, the sound of the storm echoing outside and casting flashes of light in the otherwise dark interior. A feeling of movement brought Sara up short, turning around suddenly only to find the emptiness of a lonely hallway.
“Come along, my lady. His lordship is waiting in the library.” Adele turned to frown down the hallway past Sara then pushed a smile on her face for Sara. “You’re tea will be waiting.”
Sara wasn’t accustomed to being called ‘my lady’ except in joke by her ex-coworkers who teased her for bringing her own tea cup and saucer to work while they drink gallons of energy drinks.
Chapter 3-
Chopin’s Nocturne in C minor was playing softly from a stereo system hidden in the line of bookshelves. Its haunting melody seemed to be moving down from the high walls down to the floor below where it breathed life into the very atmosphere of the room. It could not have been a coincidence that this piece was her favorite of Chopin’s works; the passion and the intensity of this romantic piece was the way she wanted her own life to feel. She was tired of repetitive pop, she wanted Chopin every day.
“Will you join me, Miss Meadows,” said the deep voice of a man with a timbre that could rival Chopin’s music. His voice was an orchestra unto itself that seemed to fill the room with a magic of its own.
“My I introduce his lordship, Rhain Alexander the Fourth Earl of Stirling.” Mr. Wells was suddenly beside her when a moment ago Adele had been standing in his place. The way they popped in and out of places, it was eerie.
The library housed several couches, upholstered chairs and side tables. One chair was set farther away from the others. It was that chair that the lord of this manor sat. Caught in a shadow there was only the large outline of a man whose head was set far above the back of the chair.
One gloved hand reached out through the shadows gesturing her further into the room as Mr. Wells instructed a servant to push in the tea cart. He put a steaming tea cup in Sara’s extended hand. Mr. Wells then bowed himself out, shooing the other servants who where peering in with gawking eyes at the scene in the library. The butler silently left, the doors closing themselves in his wake.
Sara sat on a finely cushioned love seat several feet from the Earl. What little light was in the room barely touched his form and except for his height and breath she could guess little about what he looked like.
“Don’t you like your tea?” the Earl asked after several seconds. Sara was holding her cup, not realizing she had yet to take a sip.
She did so, finding the brew not too sweet or too bitter. “It’s very good. Thank you.” Sara set the tea back down so it hovered over her lap. The cup made a small clattering noise against the saucer.
“Are you nervous, Sara?” he questioned, a chuckle hidden in that voice. If Sara could equate that voice to an instrument it would be like the sound of a long drawn out note on a perfectly tuned Cello reverberating in a room with perfect acoustics. If a voice could exude sexual overtones, his did.
“No,” Sara lied.
“You’re an American.” He made it a statement, and it didn’t sound like it was an insult. Instead he made it sound like it was part of a joke, one that was lost on her. “It is very subtle, almost as if you are trying to hide it. You don’t need to do that for my benefit.”
“I’m not doing it for your benefit,” Sara said tersely. “I try to acclimate myself to new surroundings and its easier if people don’t automatically guess I’m American because then they think I’m the official complaint box for all the things my country is doing wrong.”
“I see,” he drawled, his own accent dripping with feigned sweetness. “It is difficult when people assume you are something you are not. But first impressions are not always the correct images of a person.”
Sara whole heartedly agreed with that. Most people just assumed she was a sweet, nothing special girl, but there was fire and passion inside her, an extraordinary woman who had yet to be revealed.
“Where is the music coming from?” Sara asked, looking around for the invisible stereo.
“What music?” he quipped back, his shadowed head turning to the side as if listening.
But there was no music now, just the silence of the room broken up by the roar of the storm outside. Sara was sure there had been music when she’d walked into the library, now there was none.
“Am I going crazy?” she asked aloud, but meaning it to be metaphorical.
“Do you like music, Sara?” The way he said her name made her feel like her name was a key on a piano that he was lovingly pressing and she was the sound board the note was resonating through.
Sara brought the cup back up to her lips all the while sure that the Earl’s focus was on her. She couldn’t see his eyes, but all the same she felt them. Taking a deep sip of the warm tea she answered. “I do, but doesn’t everyone like music?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, a deep chuckle coming from him and washing over her. “I should have been more specific. Do you love music, Sara? Does it call to you, forcing you to stop what you’re doing to pay homage to its beauty? Music is a gift to humanity; it is the evidence of something divine. Don’t you think?”
Sara nodded her head.
“Is that a yes or a no? I’m afraid I cannot see your nonverbal gestures at this time.” The earl moved his hand across the area of his shadowed face.
He was blind.
“Yes,” he answered her mental statement. “I can’t see the beauty of your face and form. But I can hear your voice as surely as you can hear mine. And if I might add it is a most becoming voice. It is like a perfectly tuned violin that sings only when no one is looking. So is it a yes, Sara, or a no?”
“What was the question?” Sara asked. She was seriously losing her marbles. She couldn’t see much of the Earl and yet this was the most attracted she’d been to a man in who could guess how long. If the rest of him was anything like the voice he’d be perfect.
“What instrument do you prefer?” Rhain stood up from his chair letting the shadows follow him in his movement. “Somehow I picture you at the piano.”
Rhain took up a position in front of Sara who he could only guess was looking up at him. He could not see her, but he felt her like an electric current running from her into his very soul. He reached the distance, finding her smaller hand and taking it into his own. He pulled her up from the couch so that she was standing close to him.
He could hear the tea cup make a clattering noise again so he took it from her, depositing it on a nearby table. Rhain knew every table and chair and picture frame in this house. He always kept the house in a twilight dusk setting as he had no need for lights and the servants had adjusted to his wishes.
Taking Sara by the arm he pulled her to the piano bench. A piano he had purchased on a whim several months earlier because he believed one day there would be someone to play it.
Sara had never seen such a beautifully crafted piano, but even she knew that the beauty of the woodwork didn’t always factor into the sound quality. She touched a low e-key with a hesitant finger waiting for something not so lovely to come out. But no such thing happened. Instead a note of pure gold reverberated through the open lid drifting through the room on a whisper.
“Your touch is soft,” Rhain said. “I think I expected that. Will you play for me?” He touched the bare skin between her neck and shoulder blade, running it along her back up to her hair line feeling the rising of goose flesh as he did so. A smile touched his lips that were so usually set in a frown.
“Your lordship, I haven’t played in some time.” She felt herself drowning in her own heightened senses. His touch along the bare skin of her neck was hot and yet tender, heat penetrating through the leather glove on his hand. She couldn’t turn around to look at him, but she felt his magnetic presence all the same.
“Rhain,” he corrected. “You are free to use my Christian name.”
“Rhain,” she said, finding too much pleasure in using it. “I’m out of practice.”
“Then you can become ‘in practice’ with me,” he answered. Rhain went to sit in a straight back chair set near the curve of the piano. He put his hand to the side of the black lacquered finish and waited.
Even with the few lights flickering on the walls he remained in constant shadow, the high collar of his jacket covering his chin and sweeping his tall body in a cloak of mystery. Only the top of his head was somewhat visible, but it too was dark as midnight. His eyes flashed at her, pale as ice, and without focus.
“I insist,” he encouraged. “I promise not to take note if your fingers make a mistake.” She was sure he smiled then, only as a feeling though.
Sara focused on her almost forgotten years of training. She had more passion than talent and eventually realized that she was better as a listener than a performer. As her fingers found their way back onto the keyboard and her heart remembered its first love she was lost in that in between world between reality and music.
She was lost in that suspension when she felt Rhain once again standing behind her. In her dream-like state she watched as his gloved hands extended out to cover her own, sliding down her arms to cover her hands as they rolled over the keys.
Sara felt her head drawn back and her hands being lifted from the keys to cover Rhain’s darkly shadowed head as his lips found the pulse at the side of her neck. He bit down for a moment catching her off guard and forcing a tiny yelp from her. But he soothed the bite with a half open mouth kiss drawing the sting away and putting something else in its place.
Chapter 4-
Rhain scooped Sara up in one motion from the piano bench taking her into his arms and carrying her away from the piano. Her head rested gently over his heart, her lips slightly open and eyes closed. He knew this as he ran his fingers over her face, finding the soft curving lines of a woman made for him.
She was here at long last to absolve him from his crime of vanity. Many years he had waited for a woman to see and accept him, not for the shadowy beast that he was, but for the man he had once been.
Sara murmured something unintelligible. Rhain kissed her soft forehead, glorying in the moment of holding her so close when he had remained in this crumbling estate alone for so long. He walked to the library door which opened at his approach.
“My lord,” Mr. Wells exclaimed, coming quickly from an opposite hall. “She is asleep already.”
“Sara took too well to the sleeping agent you put in her tea.” Rhain said in a chilling almost angry voice.
“It was for her benefit sir, so that she did not wander during the night.” Mr. Wells reached out to take Sara’s sleeping form. “I’ll take her to her room.”
“No,” Rhain roared back, the lamps in the hall dimming as if afraid. “I’ll take her upstairs myself.”
Mr. Wells bowed to his masters wishes. He popped out of the hall like the ghost he was, going to where the other servants where in the kitchens gossiping about the potential new mistress of Stirling Manor.
Sara was lost in her dreaming. Like before this dream always began in a bedroom that was shadowed with the flickering lights of only a few oil lamps. The massive canopied bed she was reclining on felt even more real than the last time she’d had this dream. The softness of the comforter under her made her feel as if she were suspended on an earthly cloud.
Rhain emerged from the connecting door. Usually the dream man’s face was cast in obscurity, but tonight she had put Rhain’s face on him; at least what she imagined his face would look like. He smiled down at her as he approached the bed.
Sara smiled back, this was part of the dream she loved. The shadows were gone from his face now and she could see him as he truly was. His dark midnight hair was almost shaggy, falling below his ears to curl becomingly around his neck. An aquiline nose that drew down to a mouth that was as sculpted as the rest of his face. Those icy eyes remained unfocused, but she could sense that he knew where she was.
Rhain approached her, standing to one side of the large bed. He looked down to where he believed she was, finding the buttons of his overcoat and removing it, letting it fall to the floor. He sensed her watching him, but could not know what her expression read. He heard her soft intake of breath as he continued to remove more and more of his clothing. She could see him and that in and of itself was a miracle he didn’t deserve.
She watched attentively as he removed his shirt. He felt for the edge of the bed, sitting down so he could remove his boots. Like his servants he dressed the part of a long ago lord. Sara had always been a sucker for Regency Romance novels and so it made sense that the man of her dreams would fit the bill.
Sara came up on her knees, leaning forward till her forehead found the warm muscled line of his back. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, one hand coming to rest over his heart and the other just above the hard column of his abdomen. She touched her lips to the skin of his back, taking a small bit in much the same way he had done to her before kissing the sting away with her slightly parted mouth.
She heard the deep intake of his breath as she let one hand descend further down the column of his toned abs to the front of his breeches. His hands which had stilled at removing them caught her wandering hand bringing it down further to cup him in her soft embrace.
It was the first any woman had touched him in many, many years. He let her roving hand stay there for a moment, feeling her small hand shape itself around him as he hardened ever more from her gentle touch. He was sure her hand resting over his chest felt the heavy staccato beat of his heart. It beat loudly in his own ears as the blood of over a hundred years of isolation rushed to his groin.
Rhain took her talented hand away from him, bringing it to his lips to kiss the soft pads of her fingers. If he had allowed her to continue further she would have surely unmanned him, bring to closer something he was not ready to finish so quickly.
He turned in her embrace, finding her waist and slipping a hand under her thigh bringing her around so she was suspended on his lap. Sara wrapped her arms around him, her bottom coming into contact with his groin as she wiggled her hips suggestively. He did not think she was this responsive with other men and found the idea that only his touch could set off the passion of her music empowering.
Bringing a hand to her face he touched the line of her cheek letting it fall to the corner of her slightly parted lips. He felt her kiss the pads of his fingers as he brushed them over her mouth. Her lips were divinely inspired and he dare not wait any longer to sample the sweet nectar of them.
Rhain captured her chin in a firm but gentle hold as he bent the distance to capture the perfect bow of her mouth. He heard a short intake of breath before his lips captured hers. He tasted the divinity of those lips as if from her lips the passion of a thousand instruments flowed.
His hand roved from her chin to the line of her neck farther down to the soft swell over the line of her evening dress. Rhain wanted to rip the garment from her body, but he refrained, sure that it would scare her.
His hands roved ever more down the line of her dress, down her sides to a waist that curved into hips that he longed to have cradle against him. Her legs were encased in some filmy covering and he swept his hand around her thigh to the end of her dress, resting his hand for a moment on the bend of her knee. Rhain had removed her slippers before placing her on his bed.
He had been surprised to return after a walk around the estate to find her awake. Hearing her breathing in and out in a way that she had not done in her sleep, he had smiled to himself and almost believed that she had returned the favor.
Sara felt his gloved hand on her knee and she wanted to feel the skin of his hand on her now. “Take off the gloves,” she said between kisses. He complied quickly, discarding the leather gloves onto the floor with the rest of his growing pile of clothes. Then she felt the warmth of his gloveless hand slide from her knee up under the hem of her dress to rest on her inner thigh.
The sheer covering over her legs stopped at a point high on her thigh and he found warm flesh now with nothing to distract from it. Rhain massaged the area of her inner thigh, coming around to touch the outside and further to the line where her thigh met the sloping cheeks of her behind.
Rhain retraced his steps, finding his way back to the spot on her inner thigh that connected to another bit of sheer clothing. He fingered the elastic band, enjoying the little moan that Sara made against his mouth.
He moved her then off his lap and back on the bed following her so that he loomed over her prone body. His lips left her mouth, tracing a path from them to her cheek to the delicate shell of her ear. “Do you love me, Sara,” he whispered into her ear.
Just as in her dream, Rhain asked the question of her heart and each time she had a ready answer. Without a hesitation or falter she answered. “Yes,” she said, turning her head to find his lips again. “Yes,” she said against his mouth. “I love you.”
Rhain felt his heart soar at those simple words, hearing the truth in them. None before her had been able to say those words and make them ring true. None before her had been able to see him without the shadow.
Sara felt his fingers go to her back, taking the zipper in his hands and slipping it down, his fingers trailing along the line of exposed skin. He began pulling the sleeves of her dress over her arms, managing to hold himself suspended above her as he removed her dress from her body. Sara lifted her hips as her dress slid over them. Next he removed the sheer silk stockings, rolling them down her leg in an almost too slow maneuver that made her insides turn inside out and upside down.
Rhain’s hands brushed a line from her ankle to the tender skin behind her knee. He placed a kiss on the inside of her leg where her knee met her thigh, moving his mouth higher, placing kisses at different levels of her thighs moving higher and higher up to the center of her body.
Sara watched, fascinated, as Rhain moved higher up her body, his eyes closed and his face a mask of pure joy. This was her dream Rhain and always he looked pleased to be with her. She let a tear slip from her cheek knowing that he could not see the absolute love on her face for this mysterious man.
“Do not cry,” he spoke then, those unfocused eyes opening to look somewhere near where he believed her face was. He bent down to place a kiss over the sheer fabric of her underwear where the line of her nether lips began. “There should only be one place where your body weeps for me.” His fingers searched under the elastic band to find the evidence of just that.
Chapter 5-
Sara was lost in the magic of his moving fingers along the most sensitive part of her body. He played her like a finely tuned instrument, but only for him would she sing the passion of carnal love. Her breathing escaladed as his fingers pressed forward into her channel causing another rush of warmth to flood her and his fingers.
“Rhain,” she called his name. Her eyes closed as her head lolled back and she gave herself to the only man she had ever really loved; a man who existed only in the shadow realm of her dreams.
Rhain removed the sheer under garments from her, feeling the way her hips rose up to help him. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist bringing her softness against the hardness of his groin. Only a bit of cloth separated him from her.
He felt her fingers once again at the waist band of breeches. He lifted himself from her, feeling as her hand roved between his legs. Then her hand slipped between the opening she’d made, finding him and taking him into her hand. As with her playing she had a soft but sure touch.
His breath hitched as Sara ran her hand up and down the length of his erection, gliding from the tip to the base in a caress that reminded him of her hands gliding over the piano keys. She cupped his warm sac in her hand and he was almost beyond rational thought.
Rhain growled a sound that came not from a mere man, but from the cursed beast within. He took her talented hand from his person, pulling back to remove the rest of his clothing. He felt her gaze upon him and wondered what she saw.
As if in answer to his inner thought she reached out to trace a line down his stomach to the base of him, taking him back into her hand. “You are so beautiful.” Her hand swept along the hardened pillar of his arousal, running her finger over the head feeling the first tops of moisture from him. His eyes where once again closed, those icy, hauntingly beautiful eyes that saw her, but didn’t actually see her.
He leaned back down, his hands coming around to cup her hips sliding her down the mattress until the juncture on her thighs met the warm flesh of his hips. “It is you who are beautiful, Sara.”
“How do you know if you cannot see me?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he lowered slowly onto her making sure not to put too much of his weight on her. Sara kissed the place above his heart, hearing it as it pounded loudly in the silence of the room.
“I can see you as none before have.” His fingers played once again on the delicate flesh between her thighs. “Your music was meant only for me.” Then his fingers where gone replaced by the broad head of his erection as he began to penetrate the folds of her inner body.
“Yes,” Sara said in voice no louder than a whisper but which carried throughout the dimly lit room. Winding her suddenly shaking legs around his warm solid body she held on for dear life.
This was part of the dream where things turned wrong. In the dream as soon as he was inside her body she would feel him pull away, dissolving away as if an apparition and no matter how hard she held on to him each night he’d disappear. Then she’d awaken, alone in her dark apartment with only the fading memories of her dream lover.
“Don’t ever leave me,” she breathed against his chest.
Sara felt his arms wrap themselves around her back, holding her closer to him as the movements of his thrusting penetrated deeper.
Rhain held her as close to him as humanly possible without crushing her frail human body. He felt her inner muscles welcoming him into her body and with every thrust of his hips he sank further into her and further under the spell of her carnal music.
He held her in his embrace as her breathing intensified and her lips mouthed wordless devotions of love against the flesh on his chest. Rhain kissed the perspiration on her forehead as he increased his strokes, angling his body to touch the tight binding of sensitive nerve endings inside her channel. Her warm breath brought droplets of moisture to his flesh and he felt himself tightening in the warm cocoon of his own passions. But he held on for her when his body was raging at him for release.
“I love you,” she whispered in that most beautiful voice of hers. He held her close when her passions overtook her and he felt her head fall back against the mattress. Sara’s body convulsed in her final moments of Eros as her muscles contracted tightly around him in a hold that was his undoing.
Rhain moved ever faster against her, bringing a cry from her lips that was captured by his mouth. He drank in her cry, letting it fuel his release as he brought them both to a final cadence.
Sara’s legs lost all feeling and they fell onto the mattress, her mind a complete blank except for the subtle melodic notes of her love for Rhain dancing through her brain. This was the best the dream had ever been. She felt Rhain kissing the column of her neck, his lips sliding further down to the valley between her breasts. He kissed each rosy peaked nipple in turn, his cheek brushing against them as he moved lower. Kissing the soft flesh of her stomach he said in that voice of a singing cello, “Sleep, Sara, the music of my soul.”
“But I am already asleep,” she argued. She heard him chuckle and it sent another flush of warmth through her entire body.
“Sleep,” he commanded and she could not ignore the temptation. It had been such a long day. The sound of the storm could be heard in the distance and she wondered why only now she was aware of it. Her lethargy was confusing her which didn’t make sense because she was already asleep. Wasn’t she? Sara drifted out into the sea of a deeper sleep than she had ever experienced; an unconsciousness that almost stole her breath away.
Chapter 6-
Sara’s eyes fluttered open, a sigh escaping from her lips as the early dawn light crept through the parted brocade curtains. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest as for a moment she forgot where she was.
Her gaze traveled the distance to the windows. She was out of the bed in the next second, her feet gliding across the cold floor as she came to the windows.
Outside the light of morning barely penetrated through the dense fog. A light rain tapped a steady tempo against the thick paned glass. Not much was discernable through the gloom.
A chill stole down her spine as if the hands of the dead had touched her. Sara turned around abruptly only to find nothing in the room. She wrapped her arms around herself, then realizing she was dressed in her new silk nightgown.
Sara didn’t recall putting it on last night. In truth, she didn’t recall much between being at the piano in the library and her dream encounter with Rhain. This time it had been different, almost too real for a dream.
Embarrassment flooded through her as the memory of her dream swirled through her mind; the most passionate sexual dream of her adult life and with a shadow figured lord whom she had only met and spoke to briefly.
It had been a dream, hadn’t it?
A knock sounded at her door. Sara called to them to enter. Adele came through the door, followed by a servant carrying a large tray and another carrying a massive copper bathing tub.
“I thought you might want your breakfast first, my lady.” Adele made hurried motions with her hands, directing the servants. “Then you’ll want a warm bath to get the chill out of your bones.”
A bath sounded really nice to Sara. His lordship didn’t seem to believe in modern conveniences like heating and in the dead of a damp English winter the house was cold as death.
The food tray was set on a sideboard. Sara sat down at the table and chair set in the corner near the line of windows. Adele busied herself making up the tray, spooning something gray into a bowl. It looked like very lumpy porridge. She brought the tray over to the table then poured Sara a cup of freshly brewed tea into a painted china cup.
Sara took to the tea first, eyeing the lumpy mush in the bowl. The tea warmed her a bit, but she really was looking forward to the bath. And speaking of water, where was the bathroom?
Adele straightened up the bed while Sara dutifully consumed some of the gray mush.
Several strapping men came through the door then, buckets of steaming water hooked over each shoulder. They deposited the liquid into the copper bathing tub that was lined with thick towels to protect Sara’s skin. Never did any of the water splash on the floor and in a few more trips it was filled.
Adele shooed the men out when they dawdled, staring at Sara as she took a bite of toast.
“Where’s the bathroom, Adele?” Sara asked once they were alone again.
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “The water closet is in here, my lady.” Adele walked over to the wall, finding a hook and pulling, revealing an opening. Sara got up and came over to peer inside. At least it wasn’t a hole in the ground. Sara went in, Adele waiting close by until she finished.
When she emerged from the necessity Adele rushed her, insisting that she hurry before the water in the bath had time to cool. Sinking into the hot water Sara let her muscles relax. It was actually quite comfortable, the thick towels holding her away from the copper wash tub. She leaned her head back against the beveled lip, closing her eyes.
Heavy steps sounded in the hallway and then the sound of Mr. Wells speaking to someone in a hushed, urgent tone.
“What’s going on out there?” Sara asked, her eyes opening to look at Adele.
Adele had a troubled look about her. “I don’t know. I’ll go have a look and see that it’s put to a stop.” She slipped out of the room for a moment.
Her voice added to Mr. Well’s. The heavy steps came again; closer this time. They stopped outside Sara’s door, but the door did not open for them. A heavy breathing like that of an animal could be heard just outside her door. Sara sat up in the wash tub, watching the door.
She could see a shadow under the crack at the bottom of the door and it seemed familiar. Then the sound of something heavy struck the wood, making the door shudder in its casing. Sara heard Adele speak to it and it growled a response back at her.
Several more seconds passed, the hall growing silent. Then the shadow retreated, the sound of its steps going back down the hall. Adele emerged back into the room a few seconds after that, a weak smile on her face.
“All has been taken care of. Would you like for me to pick something for you to wear today?”
Sara let Adele wrap her up in a soft towel, keeping her warm while she went to the task of choosing an outfit.
“Where is the Earl?” Sara asked as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I thought I would thank him for his hospitality before I left today.”
Adele dropped the knitted sweater in her hands. “Oh, but you can’t leave today. The storm will surely drive you back. His lordship would be most displeased if you were injured on his estate. You must stay.”
“The fog should let up by this afternoon, I’m sure.” Sara looked to the line of windows watching as the rain beat ever harder against the glass. A crack of thunder struck the sky and the wind howled as if in protest to her statement to leave.
Adele came to sit on the bed next to Sara; her smile gone now. “The Earl retires during the day. If you wish to speak to him before you leave,” she said the last word in a chocked voice, “then it will not be until he arises in the evening.”
“All right,” Sara conceded. It wouldn’t be so terrible spending the day here. Seeing the Earl again was also an opportunity she didn’t want to miss. The thought of him sent blood rushing to her cheeks and other parts of her body.
Adele helped her dress then. It was something new to be pampered to such a degree. “Thank you, Adele,” Sara said, seeing in the reflection of the vanity mirror Adele blush at the compliment.
“Would you like me to tell you a story, my lady?” Adele went to sit on the bed. Sara followed her, curling up around the fluffy pillows.
Adele reclined against the headboard. “It all began many, many years ago when a very vain lord was visited by a witch.”
Chapter 7-
Rhain tromped down the stairs on all fours, as he was accustomed to in this form, his large black paws taking careful steps down the wide staircase to the bottom floor. A servant was going up the stairs and he growled at her, watching as she shrieked like the ghost she was before flying up the stairs.
If she had been human she would have been dead. During the day light hours Rhain was reduced to the form of a black dog, a large creature with red eyes and sharp lethal fangs. If a mortal were to gaze upon him in this form they would be struck dead instantly.
He had only wanted to look at her through the door, but Adele wouldn’t allow it. She’d scolded him for even trying to peer into the room.
“What if my lady should see you in this state? She would surely die. Is that what you want?”
Rhain had growled back at her, unable to communicate in words. In this form he could not speak but he could see. However, he knew that if Sara even glanced at him in this body she would indeed die. It was the curse; only with a blind eye could he make the woman of his heart fall in love with him and him with her.
She had already declared her love for him last night, but it had not been enough because she had believed he was a dream. Rhain had to find a way to get her to say it again.
Rhain made his way into the back kitchens where the servants huddled about gossiping as usual. Many of them popped out to other parts of the estate when he entered. Mrs. Little, however, remained stirring a pot of something hot. She turned to eye him before returning to her pot.
He growled at her.
“Don’t snap at me, young man,” Mrs. Little, who was anything but little, answered him back. “I’ve got your plate,” she reached to a covered dish on the wooden counter. “Don’t get your tail into a twist.” She set the plate down on the floor in front of him.
Rhain growled at her again.
“Oh, you want me to take the cover off do you?” Mrs. Little teased, her hands resting on her fleshy hips. She was a tall woman, almost as tall as Rhain in human form. “Sit,” she said.
Rhain sat back on his haunches, his jaws closed but his red eyes flashing anger at her. “That is much better. You are an earl, act like one.” She lifted the cover off the tray revealing a large piece of slightly roasted hare. He did not like his meat over done.
Mrs. Little watched as Rhain tore into the flesh of the animal, his jaws working to tear the flesh from the bone.
“I’ve seen the young lady, your lordship.” Rhain stopped eating, looking up at the cook. He waited for her to continue.
“If you think I’m going to tell you what I think of her, you’re mistaken.” He sat back on his haunches looking almost like an obedient dog. “No, don’t think to butter me up with tricks.” Rhain smiled at her, but a dog cannot smile so it came off all wrong.
She shook her head, turning away from Rhain trying to ignore him. He butted her side, but she just swatted at his oversized black head. “It doesn’t matter what I think in either case. If she is meant to be the new mistress of this estate, it is out of my hands to decide. Only she can choose to remain. And only the true feels of your combined hearts can make you worthy of each other. That is the way to reverse all this,” her hands swept about the kitchen, a crack of thunder echoing her statement.
Rhain returned to his plate on the floor. That was the simple answer; make Sara want to remain in this moldering estate with a man far much older than her who also turned into a dog during the day. The storm had brought her here, but if she wanted to leave he could not stop her or risk losing his last chance to save his soul.
“She plays quite beautifully though,” Mrs. Little said after a few minutes. “But you already know that, my lord.”
Mr. Wells came into the kitchen, coming over to lean against the counter. “Adele is in her room with her. She will make sure her ladyship does not wander around the halls alone.” It would not do well if Sara accidently came across Rhain in this form. “You did not think to have a look at her, my lord?”
“What is this?” Mrs. Little shouted. “Don’t you know what would happen to the poor woman if she saw you in this state?”
Rhain tried to give what could be described as an eye roll that didn’t go over so well in this form. He had heard quite enough from both his butler and Adele about his thoughtless idea. In his defense he would have made sure she couldn’t see him too clearly or hope that she wouldn’t look at him at all. But the door had refused to open for him, the house protecting her from him.
“I don’t blame your curiosity, your lordship. I am only glad that the estate did not open the door for you.”
Thinking on it, so did Rhain.
“Would you like to go outside for a bit?” Mr. Well’s asked, trying to be polite. Rhain understood in either case. The household water closet did not suite his animal form. “The rain is not coming down so hard now. Some fresh air will do well for you.”
Rhain inclined his head as he followed the butler to the back of the house. He would make sure not to go near Sara’s windows least she accidently look outside on him. The fog was thick in the yard, clinging to the statuaries and leafless branches of trees, but even so he would not risk her safety.
Mr. Wells sat down on a cracked bench, his coat fluttering in the morning breeze. The storm had brought the young woman here and until she made her decision about the earl it would not let up. The rain began to beat heavy over his head, but never did a drop of water touch him. He and all the staff in the house were as ‘stuck’ here as Ms. Meadows. The curse that had fallen on this estate had affected them all. If she chose the Earl she would also return life to them all.
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