CHAPTER 3

His hands roamed over her skin as soft as silk as they played over every part of her body. He looked like a god in the candlelight, with sleek golden skin and muscles. She arched her hips to meet him, desire coursing through her veins. She loved the feel of his skin against hers, his heart beating against her breasts as if they were one being in two bodies.

She moaned as his lips closed in on her breasts, suckling at her, kissing every inch of her he could find. His love making wasn’t hurried, but soft and gentle, as if he had all the time in the world to drink her in, to make her feel as if her body were as loose and languid as water.

Heat rippled over them as they moved together, their sighs and breaths the only sound that mattered in the night. She was betrothed to another, it was true, but when her love was with her, her father’s promise of marriage to another man no longer mattered. All she could think about was him and the beat of his heart against hers. He was hers and she his, and no amount of power or money could keep them apart.

A knock on her bedroom door startled Ellie awake, and she jolted upright off the bed. Her skin was tingling and saturated with sweat, as if it had not been a dream she had had, but a reality. She could still feel him against her, whoever he was; still feel his lips against her neck, her breasts. Ellie shuddered.

It was no wonder her heart was racing and her chest was heaving. Good grief, how long had it been since she’d been with a man? Six months? Eight? It must be this place, she decided, rubbing circles on her chest, trying to calm herself. What she wouldn’t give for a glass of water. This house was playing tricks on her, making her dream she was part of a forbidden love in another time. Of course, her father would never promise her to a man she didn’t love. Her father had never wanted anything more than her happiness and actually encouraged her to date. But the women she knew so well from her research, the women who had lived in the time of Jane Austen, hadn’t been so lucky. Often, those women were used as bargaining chips to gain their fathers more land or money and had no say whatsoever in whom they loved, unless they were willing to risk their virtue and be with their lovers in secret, sometimes even after marriage.

Yes, that had to be it. It was just this house making her dream of forbidden love. Still, she wouldn’t mind at all if she could dream of it again. If only that insistent person would quit knocking on her door.

Grudgingly, she pulled herself out of bed, straightened her sweater, and went to the door. There was no outward sign she had just had a sex dream, was there? Gosh, she hoped not.

Ellie pulled open the door and forced a smile for the apologetic young woman on the other side. The girl tugged nervously at the apron over her brown skirt. “I’m sorry to bother you, Miss,” she said, staring at the floor. “There’s someone to see you in the foyer.”

Confused, Ellie frowned. “Someone to see me? Who?”

“Lord Dabney, Miss.” The girl began walking down the hall, glancing back every few seconds to make sure she was being followed.

At a loss, Ellie followed. Who on Earth was Lord Dabney, and why did he want to see her?

As they entered the foyer, Ellie spotted a man standing by the door, gazing out the window. Her first thought was that he was extremely handsome. He had a shock of thick dark hair, sharp prominent features, and when he turned, she found he had dark, mysterious eyes.

This was Lord Dabney?

“Lord Dabney, Miss,” the maid said. She curtsied a little before scurrying from the room.

Lord Dabney’s smile was bright and charming. Ellie found herself blushing furiously as his intense gaze landed on her. She cleared her throat.

“Miss Hargrove,” he said, and his deep voice sent a chill down her spine. He held out his hand for hers.

“Fitzgerald, actually.” Why was she feeling so awkward? “And you must be Lord Dabney?”

“James, please. Lord Dabney was my father.”

“James.” She smiled shyly. “What can I do for you, James?”

He didn’t take his eyes off her. “I’m here to ask you that question, actually?” He chuckled softly at her confused expression. “Our families are old friends,” he continued. “The Dabneys and the Hargroves go back generations. They were even joined by marriage once. And your grandmother, well,” his entire demeanor warmed. “Your grandmother was a special lady.”

Ellie didn’t know what to say. James must have sensed it. “Would you like to take a walk?” he asked.

Take a walk around these beautiful grounds with a handsome stranger? “Sure.”

The gardens of Hargrove House were even better than she imagined. They were sectioned off between pathways, each one a world of its own, straight out of a storybook. James led her through a stone archway into a small, enclosed courtyard. Ellie ran her fingers along the purple and white flowers, lifting the bell-shaped bloom to her face.

“It smells so pretty,” she whispered, mesmerized by the entire place.

“It’s not the only one.”

Stunned, she turned around and stared at James. Had she heard him correctly?

“It’s called Snake’s Head Fritillary,” he told her, as if nothing had happened. “Or the Chess Flower, as some people like to call it.” Plucking a bloom from the rest, he softly tucked it behind her ear. Ellie shuddered at his touch. Was that a good chill or a bad chill? She wondered. “The Chess Flower has grown around Hargrove House for generations.”

Despite herself, Ellie couldn’t help but be charmed. Never in a million years would she have thought she would be in her ancestral home (in England, no less), flirting (was she really flirting?!) with an actual Lord. One who also happened to be incredibly attractive. Something about him was incredibly familiar, though she couldn’t say why.

“I’m surprised you know so much about my family,” she admitted, nervously clutching her sweater. James reached out for her hand and entwined his fingers with his. Ellie’s breath caught in her throat.

“As I said, our families have been connected for generations.” They had made it back to the main pathway by then. James stopped and turned to look at her, still holding her hand. His dark, penetrating eyes stared into hers, and he leaned in close. Ellie felt her heart begin to race. “Do you believe in fate?” he whispered, his voice caressing her cheek.

Swallowing hard, Ellie tried to speak, but no words would come. The only thing she could think about was his soft skin pressed against her hand and the fact that he was close enough to kiss.

James seemed to be thinking the same thing. His lips hovered over hers, the air between them hot. “I know we’ve only just met,” he told her, and his lip brushed against her ever so slightly. Ellie felt a rush of heat between her legs and her pulse was going wild. Was he going to kiss her? “But I feel as if I have known you my entire life.”

Ellie’s breath came out in a gasp as he pressed a hand to the small of her back, almost possessively, closing the gap between them to nothing. She had never been handled in a way that made her feel owned and cared for all at the same time.

The door to the house opened and Reginald stepped out. Ellie jumped back as if she had been burned, one hand against her heaving chest.

“Good evening, Reginald,” James called to the butler. Reginald’s face remained an emotionless mask. “I was just giving Miss Hargrove a tour of the grounds.”

The butler looked from one to the other and raised a brow. “Indeed.”

Breathless, Ellie managed a guilty smile. “I, um, I had better go. I still haven’t unpacked.”

“Of course.” Taking her hand again, James swept into a low bow before touching her fingers to his lips. She was sure he took longer than necessary, but she didn’t pull away. All she could do was stare. His eyes spoke of sex and seduction as he released her and excused himself.

Ellie watched him go with a sigh. She definitely wouldn’t mind falling into bed with the charming Lord Dabney, she thought, surprising even herself. She couldn’t help but smile. England was turning out to be just like a novel after all.