Wild Heart

by Lori Brighton

Genres: Historical Romance; Victorian Romance

Synopsis

Wanton. . . Leo Roberts is next in line for an earldom and the power and fortune that come with it, but he is uncultured, unrefined--and completely untamed. . .until governess Ella Finch arrives upon the scene. Can so young and inexperienced a woman tutor him in the manners and mores of his class? Leo's mysterious past has rendered him an outsider, too wild for polite society. But he finds her innocence most intriguing. . . Willing. . . What manner of man he may be, Ella does not know. Yet he fascinates her and she must know more. Capturing Leo's reckless heart is about to free her in ways she never dreamed of. . .and his sensual touch releases the deepest yearnings of her body and soul . . . "A first-class debut. Lori Brighton is a bright new voice to watch closely." --Hannah Howell Lori Brighton has a degree in anthropology and worked as a museum curator. Deciding the people in her imagination were slightly more exciting than the dead things in a museum basement, she set out to write her first book. She currently lives with her family in the Midwest where she is at work on her next novel.

Release date: October 24, 2009

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 416

Sample

Sussex, England, 1855

Surely God was punishing her.

After all, hadn’t Lady Buckley reminded her again and again no good would come to those who had the devil’s ability? Ella plucked at the tattered lace on her cuff, her morose thoughts getting the better of her. As if she had any control over her powers. As if she had any control over the devil. As if she had any control over her life.

Do not tell anyone what you are capable of, Lady Buckley’s words whispered through her memory, bringing with the heat of shame.

Too nervous to stand, Ella sank onto a window seat and focused on the garden, attempting to glean comfort from the cheery daisies. Truth be told, she should have been ecstatic to have been given the post. From the crystal chandeliers, to the soft carpets that covered the floorboards, the home reeked of money and privilege. A privilege now extended to include her. So why then wasn’t she thrilled to leave Lady Buckley’s noxious company?

“You don’t look well,” Fran whispered, stepping close to her side.

She didn’t feel well either, but Ella forced a smile to her lips. She hadn’t felt right since their carriage swept through the impressive iron gates of Sodalitas Castle. Was it nerves or something more? Blast it, but she couldn’t tell.

“I’m well. Merely anxious.”

Fran patted her shoulder. “And understandably.”

From her position near the walnut fireplace, Lady Buckley cleared her throat. Slouched in the chair, she resembled an albino toad keeping watch over her minions. Her glare received the desired effect and Ella and Fran fell silent.

“She’ll mind her manners, no doubt,” Lady Buckley said, giving the old man across from her a confident smirk. “She knows the value of being a governess for a real lord.”

He darted a glance at Ella, a flush to his wrinkled face as if he were embarrassed by Lady Buckley’s remark, when the comment had been made at Ella’s expense. If anyone should be blushing, she supposed it should be her, but she was too bloody nervous for such trivial matters. She’d been in the Buckley household since she was a mere child. In all honesty, she thought she’d always live there.

“I was delighted to hear that you took the post,” Lord Roberts said with a gentle smile that put her at some ease. With his silver hair and soft blue eyes, he was every bit the gentleman. Yes, she should be grateful.

Ella forced her lips up. “Yes, my lord. I was surprised and delighted—”

A loud crash sounded from above, vibrating the floorboards and interrupting the speech she had practiced all last eve. Fran gasped and latched onto Ella’s arm. The crystal drops on the chandelier tinkled together like fairy wings. Neither Lord Roberts nor Lady Buckley seemed to notice, but lifted their teacups in unison and sipped.

“What was that?” Fran whispered.

Ella shook her head. “A maid?”

She knew better than to comment on the noise and embarrass poor Lord Roberts. But really, what sort of man allowed such disrespect from the servants when visitors were at hand? Lady Buckley would have demanded an explanation and punishment for such a commotion. Ella knew first hand.

Servants are not to be seen, nor heard.

But instead, Lady Buckley set her teacup down with a soft clank, drawing their attention back to her. If the servants could get away with such rude behavior, what would the little lord of the manner be able to do? Her interest piqued, Ella studied Lady Buckley. Was the woman setting her up for a disastrous fall?

But there was no cause for suspicion upon her round face. Although, the firelight did make the woman’s skin glow an eerie white from rice powder, bringing forth thoughts of specters haunting castles. As if Ella needed any more reason to be leery of the situation she found herself suddenly in.

“Should be on your knees thanking Lord Roberts, you should,” the old biddy said.

Perhaps it was the red glow of the hearth, or the leering shadows that danced against the paneled walls like cavorting demons, but a chill snaked over Ella’s back. Something wasn’t right.

“A brilliant opportunity to gain entry as a governess into a privileged family,” Lady Buckley had said. But since when was Lady Buckley eager to assist her? Never had the woman cared what Ella wanted before.

Lord Roberts cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we’re both grateful, of course.”

The sudden racket of coughing forced everyone’s attention to Fran.

“Contain yourself,” Lady Buckley demanded, as if the condition was something Fran could control. She leaned closer to Lord Roberts, her immense bosom nearly falling from her low neckline. “Impossible to find a decent lady’s maid.”

Ella resisted the urge to respond. She would certainly not miss the woman. Fran wheezed between gulps of air, her face red with barely concealed effort. Ella reached out, taking her hand. How much longer could the girl last, forced to work as hard as she was? Blast Lady Buckley and her uncaring soul!

“And how was your trip?” Lord Roberts asked, obviously trying to change the subject. Thank the Heavens someone had sense.

Lady Buckley sighed. “Quite uneventful. Still, I am rather exhausted. If I may be shown to a room where I may rest?”

“Of course.”

Ella felt a moment of panic and the insane desire to bring up the weather, anything to delay their departure from the room. No, no it couldn’t be over, not already! She tightened her hold on Fran’s thin fingers. “I want you to keep my necklace,” she whispered as Lord Roberts assisted Lady Buckley from her chair.

Fran shook her head, wisps of her red hair swaying around her pale, narrow face. “No, absolutely not. You know ’ow I am. I’d lose it and I know ’ow important that piece is to you.”

Ella pulled the necklace free from underneath her collar. “But Fran—”

Fran sighed and rubbed the silver pendant with the pad of her thumb, tracing the foreign man. “Ella, I won’t take it. Your uncle sent that pendant to you all the way from India.”

Hesitating but a moment, Ella slipped the necklace back under her dress, the heathen piece hidden from Buckley’s beady eyes. “Who will tame my hair in the morning? Who will I talk to about my silly problems? Who will I go to if the servants are cruel?”

Fran smiled, took one of Ella’s golden brown curls and tugged on the strand, letting it bounce back into place. “You’ll do fine on your own.”

“Francine,” Lady Buckley snapped. “Come.”

Ella stood and hugged Fran, forcing herself not to worry over her friend’s frail condition. “I’ll save my money, won’t spend a cent. Someday we’ll open the millinery shop your mum always wanted you to have.”

“I know you will. Friends,” Fran said and moved from Ella’s grasp. Before she could hear Ella’s response, Fran was at Lady Buckley’s side, both disappearing out the door.

“Forever and ever,” Ella whispered.

As if mocking her inner turmoil, a low rumble of thunder shook the building, rattling the window panes. Ella’s fingers curled into her soft muslin skirt as she resisted the urge to run after her friend.

“Miss Finch.” Lord Roberts shuffled toward her, a smile lighting his weathered face. The thump of his cane was the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. Too quiet, too lonely after the loud commotion from upstairs.

She curtsied, refusing to give into the sting of tears. How could Lady Buckley do this to her? She was not a carriage to be borrowed by the neighbors when the need arose. “Lord Roberts.”

“Do you believe in fate, Miss Finch?”

Her lips parted to speak, but confusion held her silent. Of everything she’d expected him to say, this was the last on her list. How, exactly, did the man wish for her to respond?

“You see,” he said, stilling in front of her. “The fact that I needed a governess just as Lady Buckley’s children had grown is all very serendipitous. Do you not agree?”

“Of course,” she murmured, knowing better than to disagree.

“I’ve had a bit of trouble finding a tutor for my grandson. And then I heard from Lady Buckley and I just knew you’d be perfect.”

“My lord, you do understand that I was merely a companion to Lady Buckley’s daughters, not exactly a governess.”

He waved his hand through the air, dismissing her comment. “Of course, but she explained you did quite well with the younger children.”

It was true she’d taught Lady Buckley’s youngest daughters more than any governess would, but still, she had no experience with boys. Dare she tell Lord Roberts, or should she keep her mouth shut?

“Come, I’ll show you to your room.” Lord Roberts took her arm and they started toward the doors. “You will love it here. The countryside is a pure delight. And the ocean…you do like the ocean?”

“Yes, very much,” she replied.

She tried to slow her racing emotions, but the moment they stepped into her foyer, her stomach clenched. She bit her lower lip as if the act could prevent her from getting sick all over his marble floor. Not right. Something was definitely not right. Her footsteps echoed up the stairs, the sound slamming against her head, like a hammer against stone. The feelings were so familiar she’d never mistake them for nerves.

“No, not now,” she whispered.

“Did you say something, my dear?”

She shook her head and focused on the foyer, desperate to think of anything but what was bound to happen. Compared to the Buckley’s golden Georgian home, this castle felt oppressive. The dark stone walls seemed to press down on her, suffocating, watching.

A loud crash sounded from above. A crash similar to the one she’d heard only moments before. Ella gasped, her hand tightening on Lord Roberts’s arms.

“The sea is but a five-minute walk from the house. There’s a trail that leads from the back of the estate to the shore,” he added as if he hadn’t heard the loud sound from above. Dear Lord, was he hard of hearing? Or was she insane?

“The sea? Lovely,” Ella murmured, feeling she ought to say something. She rested her hand on her chest, taking small comfort in the familiar hardness of the pendant underneath her bodice. But the moment her foot hit the first step the vibrations flared, thrumming under the surface of her skin, growing stronger with each step.

“I’ve known Lady Buckley for…”

Blood roared into her ears, drowning out Lord Roberts’s words. She knew what was happening, she knew it was wrong, but God help her, she knew she couldn’t stop the torment. As always, the hum started deep inside her core, a soft vibration that pulsed up her body until it burst into a cry that clenched around her heart. “The gift,” her mother had called her powers. “The curse,” Lady Buckley had condemned.

Lord Roberts continued to ramble, his voice a hollow murmur she couldn’t quite comprehend. He led her down a dark hall, past door, after door, after door. She was barely aware of where they traveled, if her feet touched the ground, if she still stood in her own body.

“Here you are.” His words roared through her ears like crashing waves breaking through the silence. “The room has a view of the back gardens and on a clear day, you can see the ocean. I hope you find the accommodations to your liking.” He smiled and used his cane to nudge open the last door in the hall.

The large room wavered, before finally focusing into a fairy forest of gold and green.

“Your things should be waiting. If you need anything, just ring. I’ll be up in a bit to escort you to my grandson.”

With that said, he bowed and left. Eager to be alone, Ella stumbled into the room, closing the door behind her. Her heart raced in her chest, her mouth dry. Familiar feelings, but completely inappropriate at the moment.

“Why now?” she whispered, looking heavenward.

She took in a deep breath and moved to the narrow windows, pushing them wide. A crisp breeze swept inside, rustling the thick, green curtains and providing relief to her fevered skin. Below, a rich and colorful garden thrived. There wasn’t enough light to see the ocean, but the flowers below would be a merry sight to greet her every morning. She leaned forward and breathed deep. The perfumed scent of roses wafted in from a vine that crawled up the house to her window. Taking comfort in the blooms, she closed her eyes and focused.

An animal, desperate but not crying out for help. She didn’t understand the mixed signals, had never experienced such a confusing blend before. Fading and then pulsing to life as if the poor beast weren’t quite sure if he needed assistance or not. A trapped hare? A sickly bird? But it felt larger. A hunted deer?

She pulled the necklace from her collar, running the pendant up and down the thin, silver chain. Frustrated, she started to turn away when a sudden movement caught her attention. A man stalked from the house. The wind teased his hair, brushing the strands across his neck—strands much too long for any decent gentleman. Was he the culprit? The man responsible for tormenting whatever animal was in need of help?

Stunned and curious, she pushed the curtain farther aside and peered into the evening. In his hand he dragged what looked to be a framed canvas. How odd. Was he real or some mythical beast made visible by the magic of twilight? Her gaze slid from his face, hidden by his long hair, down to the sleeves of his white shirt, which were rolled to his elbows. Even from her vantage point she could see the corded muscles flexed in his forearms.

An unfamiliar heat pulsed through her body, pushing aside the familiar hum of her powers. The subject of her fascination stopped and threw the canvas in a wide arc. The painting sailed through the garden and landed on a yellow rosebush.

“Rather peculiar,” Ella whispered.

He spun around as if he heard her comment. Ella squeezed back behind the curtains. The small porcelain clock on the fireplace mantel ticked the time by. Unable to control her curiosity, she finally peeked between the folds of the drapes. His gaze lingered directly at her window. For a few seconds he merely stared. Surely he couldn’t see her. Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited…waited…waited.

Finally, he dropped his attention and disappeared into the house. Ella raced across the room and bolted her door. Safely ensconced, she leaned against the thick wooden panel and breathed a sigh of relief. By God, who was he?

 

“This castle has been in our family for three hundred years,” Lord Roberts explained.

Portraits of dour relatives glared down at Ella, as if demanding to know how she had been allowed access to their privileged family. She studied each picture looking for a familiar man with dark hair. All afternoon he’d commanded her thoughts. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about the strange garden visitor. Perhaps he’d been a disgruntled servant? But the cut of his clothing and arrogance of his stance did not suggest servitude.

“My elder brother.”

Lord Roberts’s voice broke into her thoughts. Feigning interest, she looked up to a tall portrait of a man with tousled brown hair and a wide grin.

“He looks cheerful,” she said.

Apparently, it was not the correct response.

Lord Roberts frowned and shook his head. “Disrepute. Unfortunately, the man was wild and uncontrollable. He held no interest in his heritage, or this castle. It is by his own careless selfishness that he died.”

Ella looked at Lord Roberts out of the corner of her eye, pressing her lips tightly together to keep her mouth from dropping open. She hadn’t expected such harsh damnation from a seemingly gentle man. But then there were many odd things about the Roberts household. The way her powers reacted, for one. And, of course the garden stranger.

Lord Roberts said nothing more but turned and started down yet another endless hall, and Ella was forced to hurry after him, worried she’d lose her way. “My lord, I’d like to make my good-byes to Lady Buckley before she leaves.”

He didn’t bother to look at her as he responded. “My dear, Lady Buckley left over an hour ago.”

The blood rushed from her head and Ella stopped, swerving on her feet. Alone? Utterly alone? Fran was gone? Lady Buckley had left? Was there to be no farewell? No words of encouragement or admonition?

“My dear?” Lord Roberts called out, glancing over his shoulder. Her face flushed and lifting the hem of her serviceable gown, she rushed to his side.

His bushy gray brows drew together. “Are you well?”

“Yes.” She forced a smile upon her lips and forced her mind to think of thoughts other than her sudden solitude. They were gone; there was nothing to be done. “It must be lovely, to have a family, a sense of history.”

“It is,” he said, but she didn’t miss the clouded look that crossed his faded blue eyes. “’Tis why you are here, Ella. My grandson is the next in line. I need him to be as well educated as possible when the time comes for him to take his place.”

“Of course,” Ella replied.

But the lanterns on the rock walls cast wavering shadows against the floor, demanding her attention and increasing her anxiety.

“Still, I feel I must warn you. My grandson,” Lord Roberts said, “has had a difficult life. He’s not exactly…normal.”

Ella tore her gaze from the dark hall to focus on Lord Roberts. His face was passive, but his eyes still held a sense of sadness that worried her. Against her will, her heart skipped a beat and she had to force her feet to continue forward, wondering over his ominous words.

“But I promise you, if you persevere, the reward will be well worth the effort.”

She parted her lips to question him further when he stopped outside double wooden doors carved with mystical beasts. Unicorns, dragons, elves all fought for attention like a children’s fairy tale come to life.

“Any family will hire you, Ella, upon learning you worked for me,” Lord Roberts said. “Just think, even royalty.” Before his words of promise could sink in, he reached out and pushed the doors wide.

A rush of apprehension washed over her like a chilly breeze. That feeling she’d had when she first arrived…that same feeling that had seeped in through her bedroom window. Her heart raced, but her mind stilled. Her entire body focused on the hum that started vibrating in her core. A beast, a beast in dire need, a beast confused, angry, hurt.

“Do not be afraid, my dear,” Lord Roberts said, slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow and leading her into the room.

Afraid? Afraid! Why should she be afraid?

A crash made her jump. Even Lord Roberts tightened his hold. Blimey, is that where the noise had come from? Lord Roberts’s grandson?

“My lord, I do not have great experience with children.” Her face heated at the lie. “I mean, of boys, in particular.”

“Oh, that won’t matter much, my dear.”

He pulled her further into the gold room, her slippered feet whispering their resistance against the cold, marble floor.

“W—where is he?” Her gaze swept the pastel landscape murals on the walls, up to the ceiling where fat cherubs grinned down at her, demented sprites mocking her plight.

Her mind buzzed as a rush of emotion swept into her, then back out, like waves at sea. She couldn’t seem to catch hold of anything, merely hints of anger, frustration, sorrow, and resentment. Another crash resounded from beside her. Ella spun around. An empty easel was propped in the corner of the room, under the glow of wall sconces. Movement near the windows caught her attention.

A man. The man from the garden.

Dark hair glistened in the low candlelight, his broad back to her. Her body froze, her thoughts spinning.

“I thought I’d created him in my mind,” she whispered.

“You’ve met?” Lord Roberts turned to her, confusion in his eyes.

“No, I saw him this evening. He seemed to be…” What was the right word? “Overwrought about something.”

With what could only be called a growl, he tossed a paint-splattered canvas outside.

“Oh my,” she gasped. “He seems rather upset now, too. Who is he?”

“My grandson, Leo.”

Ella’s stomach sank. “I see. And your other grandson, the one I will be teaching, is he here?” She pulled away and studied the room. It was empty.

The old man’s face flushed a telling shade of red. “Ah, yes. Well, you see—”

“My lord,” a servant whispered from the hall. He darted a glance at Lord Roberts’s grandson and scampered back, cowering behind the doors.

“Yes? What is it?” Lord Roberts strolled toward the hall. Ella resisted the urge to cling to the man, to beg him not to leave her alone, to beg him to send a rider for Lady Buckley.

As if sensing her vulnerability, Leo spun away from the window and faced her. Ella’s heart jumped into her throat. The set of his square jaw made him appear fierce, yet she could not ignore the handsome features that pulled together in a face that would inspire Michelangelo. His attention swept over her form, leaving behind a trail of heat that pulsed unwanted through her body.

Dear Lord, he wore only trousers and a white shirt, spattered in paint and completely unbuttoned. She couldn’t stop her gaze from traveling the trail of hair that swept down his muscled chest. Her body tingled and her gaze jumped back to his face. His wavy locks hung wildly about his shoulders. His body was tight, tense—like a beast prepared for an attack. Surely he wouldn’t harm her.

With long, purposeful strides, he shortened the distance between them. And she couldn’t move, couldn’t move a bloody step, fear and something else holding her captive. Nearer…nearer. Would he stop or knock her over?

Then their gazes met, and any thought of escape fled. Suddenly nothing existed. Ella fell into a warm pool of gold. An eerie gold that glowed from his eyes, pulling her under, drowning in emotion and leaving her gasping for breath. It was coming from him…the emotion…the need…the pain.

Birds, rabbits, even a fox, but never had she been able to read a person’s emotions. Mesmerized, she didn’t move a muscle when he stopped only a foot away, looming over her like some archangel come to take her soul. Was the floor still beneath her feet or was she falling? The room seemed to spin as his scent swirled around her: sea salt, pine, and male; him.

“It is nice to meet you,” she somehow managed to get past her lips.

His eyes narrowed into slits and his nostrils flared, his breath a soft whisper as he inhaled deeply. Slowly, he moved around her as if she were prey and he the hunter. He stepped close, too close. With his chest hot to her back, his essence seeped into her skin. His fingers brushed her nape, wrapped around a loose lock, and the fine hairs on her neck stood on end. She heard the distinct intake of breath, as if he smelled the strands. Paralyzed from fright and from another foreign emotion, Ella couldn’t move. Her heart hammered in her ears, drowning out every sound but her own harsh breathing.

He leaned forward, and the side of his face, rough with a day’s growth of whiskers, brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck. She closed her eyes, feeling every muscled contour of his body, every heated limb, every soft breath he took. Strange physical sensations pulsed through her veins, a deep aching need for only God knew what. Want, desire, anger so intense, her knees quivered and she feared she would sink to the ground in a dead faint.

“Leo,” Lord Roberts called out. The tap of the old man’s cane sounded muddled through the fog of her exotic reality. Part of her was weak with relief when Lord Roberts appeared, yet a small part, deep down inside, was strangely eager to see what this Leo would do next.

“I see you have met your new governess,” Lord Roberts said.

Governess? As if Leo were a boy when in fact he was a man, a very grown man.

His hold on her hair tightened, and she resisted the urge to squeak.

The old man’s eyes flickered uneasily from her face to his grandson. “I believe Miss Finch would like to rest.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ella studied her ward. His jaw clenched, but he released his hold on her hair. With a curl of his lips and a stiff jerk of his arm, he pointed toward the hall.

“Right, of course, you would like some time alone. Well then, shall we?” Lord Roberts tugged her toward the open doors.

Her shoulder brushed against Leo’s hard chest, and shivers raced all the way to her toes. Confused by her strange reaction, she stole a glance back as Lord Roberts led her from the room. Leo stood there, his hands on his slim hips as if sizing her up for the kill. As Lady Buckley had promised, she was indeed being punished by God.

Lord Roberts closed the doors and shut the man from view. The surge of emotion and heat receded, leaving her trembling and cold.

The sobs echoed in Ella’s mind over and over until she wanted to tear the hair from her scalp merely to feel something other than the sorrow that had embedded into her soul. She squeezed her eyes shut and bent the bolster around her head to cover her ears. But the action provided no relief from the emotional onslaught. If anything, closing her eyes heightened the cries of horror and flashes of blood swirling through her mind in a fog of painful memories.

His memories.

Not the past life of a deer, a rabbit, a bird. But memories of a boy who’d seen much more than any soul should witness.

You must be brave, Leo. The woman whispered over and over through her mind. You must be brave. His mum, she was sure, for she could see the woman with her golden hair and blue gaze as clearly as if she were standing in front of her. And just as quickly as she’d appeared, another memory flashed to mind…the same woman, on the ground with a pool of scarlet blood beneath her.

Ella choked on a sob and dared to open her eyes. Gray dawn’s boney fingers crept through the cracks in the drapes, warning of daylight’s imminent arrival. Nothing else remained…no bodies lying in pools of blood, no men fighting, merely a richly furnished room.

Her head ached with exhaustion. No wild animal had provided her with such painful memories. Only a human could store such grief, such horror…horror that frightened her as much as it tore at her gut.

She couldn’t stay here with these people. She couldn’t stay here with that man. She couldn’t stay here with such confusing emotions stabbing through her mind with every beat of her heart. Emotions she’d never felt before and knew were wrong.

She slipped from her bed, grasping the post when her weak knees refused to lock. Anger and sorrow hovered inside the castle like an oppressive fog. Whatever had happened in the past, she wanted no part.

She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her carpetbag, the strong sturdiness of the wooden grip bringing strength to her backbone. Without dwelling on her fear, she slipped into the hall. What would she do if she ran into Leo in these dark passages? Fear tickled the back of her neck like a whisper of warning. Silently, she slipped from shadow to shadow, making her way along the corridor. Reaching the steps, she peered down the sweeping staircase to the door.

“He’s disappeared again, my lord,” a male voice floated up to the second floor.

Ella knelt behind the banister and peeked between the railings. An early ray of sunlight pierced the small stained-glass window at the front of the entryway, splashing the hardwood floor with brilliant colors—a rainbow out of place in the dark and dreary home.

“His bed hasn’t been slept in?” Lord Roberts asked, stepping into view.

“No, my lord,” the butler replied.

The old man sighed. “He’ll turn up, Samson. He always does.”

The servant bowed and left. Lord Roberts stared at the door as if willing his grandson to appear. Finally, he shuffled down the hall. Pity sliced through Ella, and she took her lower lip between her teeth. Blast it, she wouldn’t feel sorry for a man who lied. Leo was no child, but a man. How could Lord Roberts possibly think she’d take the position? Her reputation would be shattered. Even if no one else seemed to care, she did.

Without a backward glance, she tripped down the steps and out the front door. Free, she hiked up her skirt and layers of crinoline and raced down the drive. Birds darted out of trees, stirred by her anxiety. She didn’t stop until she saw the iron gates ahead. Winded, she dropped her bag and leaned against the bars, gasping for air. She jerked on the handles. The gates didn’t budge. Locked.

She was trapped.

“No,” she cried, resting her forehead on the cool metal for the briefest of moments.

She pushed away, stumbling back. Surely there was somewhere to escape. She snatched up her bag and followed the fence into a patch of trees.

“Ridiculous,” she whispered, pulling up her skirt and stepping over a root. Was the entire property fenced? Unease made her skin crawl. Surely they didn’t keep their servants under lock and key? Ignoring the anxiety, she brushed aside a low-hanging branch and spotted a narrow trail.

“Thank God.”

Brown sparrows chirped and darted through the trees, the only sign of life in the still forest. A soft snap rent the air. Before she could react, her bag fell with a thud to the ground. She stared at the handle, broken off in her palm.

“No!” she cried out, dropping the handle. “No, no, no!” She collapsed onto the forest floor. Petticoats and skirts spilled onto the dirt, leaves stuck to clothing that only yesterday morning Fran had so carefully folded. Ella choked on a sob.

She had nowhere to go.

Nowhere.

Warm tears slipped down her cheeks. She pulled up her legs and rested her forehead on her knees, too tired to move or care. What would she do? Where would she go? A sudden throb pulsed at the base of her core. Ella stiffened, not daring to raise her head. The forest was quiet.

Too quiet.

Turning her senses inward, she recognized him immediately. A warm trail of need spiraled in her body, lighting her soul. The same heated sensation that pulled her under in the ballroom. She focused on that emotion, trying to make sense of the desire. Her body began to ache, spreading down her limbs and pooling in the pit of her belly. But underneath that need pulsed an overwhelming sense of anger and despair. Trembling, she lifted her head.

Ella couldn’t prevent the gasp from escaping her lips. He sat at the foot of a tree and watched her from the shadows, his face unreadable. Dear Lord, would he murder her right where she knelt, where no one could hear her screams? Surely…surely he wouldn’t harm her. Lord Roberts said he wouldn’t. Then again, Lord Roberts had said many things that weren’t exactly true. Desperately, she attempted to make sense of her emotio. . .