“Monogrammed sheets. What a tosser! It’s going to kill me to carry that lot up to the top of the path.” A brilliant idea hit her. The wheelbarrow would be perfect. The old mantle clock chimed six thirty. The letter said, “Arrive at sunset”. The darkness outside the window obliterated the view of the pine trees by her hedge. Well, yes, she’d be a bit late, about two hours, but it was party season and there were other things to do. The wheelbarrow would shave ten or fifteen minutes off the journey up to the house on the top of the rise.
“I bet I’ll be sweating like a donkey by the time I’ve dropped this lot off.”
Annual rent gift, what a darn stupid idea. True, she’d happily signed the lease in the indigo colored ink the agent demanded because she’d scored a good deal. Her usual monthly rent was less than a sneeze, ideal. This annual gift hadn’t been mentioned. The first she knew of it was from the odd-looking letter that arrived in November.
This missive serves as a courteous reminder of the annual rent gift due on the winter solstice.
The page had a funny pattern on the top of the thick paper. Rosie said the stuff was handmade, the pattern embossed and the measurements given were medieval. Rosie being interested in history knew all that kind of stuff. Personally, Jess thought it all a crock of ….
Humph. As if I have nothing better to do on the winter solstice. She shoved on a pair of Wellingtons and put her heeled shoes in a carrier bag on top of the wrapped pile before going out into the dark to fetch the wheelbarrow from the shed.
Thank goodness, the fancy dress cloak proved warm and not quite long enough to trail on the floor. She toted the big bundle outside and puffing into the frosty night, dumped it in the wheelbarrow.
A last thought sent her rushing for her make-up bag, perfume and body spray. Two accountants from the office were attending the party tonight. She wasn’t giving up her chance to get to know either of them because—she grabbed the letter from off the table—Mr. B.F.E. Miles had requested new bedding. With another snort of disgust she hurried outside and stuffed the letter and her other things into the carrier bag.
Chapter Two
Before she got half way up the tree-lined path, her breath gusted sending white puffy shadows into the moonlight. Why hadn’t the silly people had this old track enlarged and tarred so she could drive? As she got to the black gates, she sagged over the barrow handles and sucked in air. Only twice over the months she’d been at the cottage had she bothered to walk up to the top of the rise. Both times the gates were padlocked shut. Tonight the intricate wrought iron arms stood wide-open as if to beckon her inside. The large, gothic style house could just be glimpsed from where she rested. The imposing build stood farther back along the pathway almost hidden in the trees.
A special occasion for the solstice night, perhaps they’d opened the gates just for her and her wheelbarrow full of bed linen. She shoved hard and pushed on up the steep hill. Tonight light gleamed from many windows in the enigmatic building. Several thin trails of smoke rose from the chimneys.
The moon and stars showed her the way and at last, she found the massive, Victorian style double doors tucked beneath the sloping roof. On either side of the wide doorway a row of three seats offered relief. After she parked the wheelbarrow, she sank down on the hard wood to sit under the gable to recover. She’d not go in wearing the mucky Wellingtons and slid them off to put on her shoes. Leaving the Wellingtons beside the little cart she turned and eyed the house.
After another deep breath she used the massive iron knocker.
When the door creaked open a dazzling beam hit her face and shading her eyes with her palm she squinted.
“Enter.”
She stepped over the threshold in answer to the mesmeric tone. Darn it, the bundle still sat in the barrow. She stepped back.
“Hurry up! He’s angry, and if you don’t get in, we can’t get out.”
Jess peered about but found no one. She grabbed her bag, hefted the weighty pack out of the barrow and took four paces into the brightness.
“Good. He’ll be here the instant I ring the bell. Grip yer knickers, wench. He’s not best pleased.”
She swallowed hard. The loud jangle of a bell echoed up into the lofty vault above her and her shoulders tensed. A forceful rush thrummed past, fanning her face and lifting her hair. Then silence.
Chapter Three
Miles picked up the wretched jewel-encrusted box and walked into the hallway leading to the top of the stairs. The chill thrumming through the air announced the staff leaving for their annual night away. He glanced to the darkened windows. At last his visitor had arrived. How he loathed tardiness, and on such a special occasion, too. He gave the cursed box a flick with his fingernail and headed down the first flight of steps to the square lobby before the final descent to the ground floor.
At the turn on the stairs, the vista from the room below met him and he froze. Angels visited the earth on rare occasions, but tonight one had strayed into his home and stood before the wide hearth. He almost turned back. Surely, if he took her, whichever deity she served would be furious.
No, they weren’t furled wings, but the panels of the white cloak flung back over her shoulders. He’d not seen the like of her thistledown silvery gown for centuries. She rubbed at her arms with delicate hands and raised her blond head to look up the stairs.
So beautiful.
She smiled, and his heart lurched in a bigger response, one some might call emotional. No angel this, the spark in her eyes as her gaze met his lit his hopes. He could not leave her to stand in waiting. He fought to still an answering smile as he continued down the stairs. Tonight wasn’t about smiles.
Her blue eyes widened a little at his approach. Lifting her chin, she took a step back. “Mr. B.F.E. Miles?”
He could swim in those eyes, dive beneath the gleaming surface to find the pearl of her soul, the crux of all her yearnings, if only she would pass the test and let him. “Yes. I am Miles. You are?”
“Jessica Hopton, Mr. Miles. A pleasure to meet you. I’m your tenant at the gatehouse cottage. I’ve brought the rent gift as the letter said.”
“You’re late.”
She pursed her glossy lips for a second. “I do apologize. I was busy getting something ready to take to a party.” She patted the large bundle on the hall table. “Here are the things the letter ordered.”
“Good. Follow me, Jessica.” He turned and walked to the library door. The desire to take one last look at her as she was now had to be satisfied and he glanced over his shoulder. Her fragrance wove about him. Truly the scent of heaven could not be sweeter. “You can leave your cape here. This way, we have things to discuss.”
She set the cape over the arm of a chair and followed. A twist of pain ached in his gut. Could he not for once refuse this wicked ritual? Might he not send her away to safety and keep her in his mind as she was? A soft beauty with eyes the same shade as bluebells. His first sight of her was a memory he wanted to treasure. He walked to a side table in the library, poured wine into two silver cups and offered her one.
“No thank you, Mr. Miles, I’m driving tonight.”
He nodded and indicated a seat at a table by the side of the hearth. “I am just Miles, please sit.”
She did and again offered him the caressing smile. “What would you like to discuss, Miles? I’m very happy at the gatehouse, if that’s what you want to know. I’ve no intention of moving on soon.”
Selfish wretch that he was, it wasn’t her future happiness that concerned him tonight. This night her present happiness would be more important, for without it his hopes lingered on the impossible. A dream he’d been cursed to yearn for yet never experience prodded at him.
He set the jeweled casket on the table and sat opposite her. She tilted her blond head to examine the gem-studied box, and the hope this night he had found the one to bring him peace gouged its way from deep in his belly. None of the others had ever stirred his need in this way. The gems on the box shone with
spears of brilliance to skewer him. “A pretty trinket, is it not?”
“A gorgeous craft piece.” She stroked her forefinger over the box. Her painted nails shone, palest shimmering pink, so glossy and smooth. “Are those real diamonds?”
He sighed. “Yes, they are.”
“I’ve never seen a diamond that big. It must be very special.”
A rush hit him. She’d passed the first test. “The box is a unique item.”
She lifted her gaze to him and took her hand away from the casket. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if it was all right to touch it.”
Now he couldn’t prevent his smile. “Please, Jessica, do touch the gems. It is so rare this object is appreciated for its beauty.”
She reached out and circled a sapphire on the side with her fingertip. “The firelight shines in it so the stone looks like liquid.”
He held his breath.
“Such a beautiful thing. Does it make you happy?”
“No.”
Her eyes widened a little as her gaze met his. The dilated pupils offered him an image of himself. He ripped his gaze away. None of the others had ever got that far.
“I think I understand. Happiness isn’t all about ownership, is it?”
His heart raced. The beat so swift in his chest must sound like drums in the distance. The hope tortured him. Never had the torment of the box’s curse been as bitter sharp.
Only two tests remained. He studied her lovely features and the closest thing to a prayer he had ever made formed as he put his hand on top of hers over the casket. Let her be the one. She must be.
Chapter Four
The fine hairs at the back of her neck rose at the delicious sensation of his long fingers curled around hers. A jolt hit her stomach as she met his gaze. Eyes green like winter pine forests studied her and her questions dissolved. If she spent the rest of her life looking into those eyes, it wouldn’t be long enough. She breathed in the sense of magic. Here stood the one she’d dreamed she’d find.
He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze and a fresh thrill of an adrenaline boost shot up her arm, as if she’d been plugged into a generator. She ought to move her hand away but didn’t want to. Instead, she let her palm rest on the gems while his warmth covered her fingers. “Miles?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps I will have that cup of wine after all.”
“If you wish.”
She sucked in a breath as he took his hand from hers and rose from his seat. Sometime in the next ten minutes she’d text Rosie and say she’d not be going to the party. Something had come up, or she hoped it had.
No one she’d ever met captivated her like this man. Even the word didn’t seem right. Bigger, brighter, something so much more than man, or at least any she knew. His hair, long enough to reach his hips hung like silken copper but did nothing to diminish his masculinity. All she could think of was being wrapped in his arms as his hair caressed her naked skin. The hem of his long velvet robe swayed with his steps as he carried the silver cup back to her.
She forced herself to look at the box on the table as he sat. Lifting her gaze she sucked in her lip, rubbed the soft flesh with the tip of her tongue, as she imagined his against it. He had the most beautiful mouth and she wanted to taste him.
“Your cup, Jessica.”
He took her hand from the box.
She shivered at the delicious sensation from the renewed contact with his skin.
“Try the wine?” Gentle but inexorable he urged her to lift the cup.
The silver rim was cool against her mouth and he caressed the edge of her lower lip with his thumb.
She sipped the red wine and swallowed a dribble. “Thank you.” Her gaze remained fixed on his and her pulse snapped to another rhythm. The thin clinging fabric of her fancy-dress gown would do nothing to hide her stiffened nipples now aching for just one caress or his kiss. She should stop this. It was immoral. They’d only just met, but all she could think of was screwing him senseless. Morals be damned. If she didn’t experience him she’d spend the rest of her life wondering why she’d been so stupid as to let the chance pass.
The rich cologne he wore was one she didn’t know. Some part of the fragrance spoke of him alone. She sucked in another lungful and hoped the welling moisture between her thighs would serve some purpose tonight. “Tell me—”
“Not yet.” He shook his head. “I would like you to open the casket, Jessica.”
She set her cup on the table and nodded. “If you like. Is the inside as beautiful as the outside?”
His low groan sparked a fresh heat between her thighs. She flashed a glance to his face but his expression held no sorrow.
“Open the box and find out.”
His eyes shone and his gaze sucked her in offering all kinds of promises. She ached to put her hand on his arm, or his cheek, and to stroke his shining hair. Something wild and scary raced in her body. The need to plead for him almost left her. Touch me, kiss me, make love to me now, the words raced to her lips, but she held them back, and reached for the lid of the jeweled box. She ran her finger over an emerald the color of tropical seas. “I can’t think the inside will be more beautiful than this.” She couldn’t tell if she meant the gem beneath her finger, the box, or the way her very bones seemed to be dissolving in the need for him to caress her. The lid half open she looked across the table. “Miles, what…”
No, she couldn’t be gauche enough as ask what was happening tonight. She lifted the lid. “Oh.”
“Do you see anything inside the casket?” He reached across and took her fingers in his, rubbed over her thumb knuckle and she longed for him to stroke more of her.
She stared into the box. Heat rose in a scorching flash to her face. Her body thundered with a hundred responses and her clit throbbed in a vicious rhythm robbing her of speech.
“Tell me, fair angel, what do you see?”
“I…” She shook her head, full of fear to tell him and could scarce believe her eyes. “I…”
The tiny figures, reflected in the crimson glossed interior of the box, rolled together on a massive four-poster bed with shimmering silken sheets. Strands of his long copper hair draped about her body as she clung tight in his embrace. Her hips moved with a hypnotic rhythm as she answered his thrusts. Her miniature image gave high-pitched, kittenish mewls.
Coming.
Her body pulsed with a hopeful jolt.
He gripped her hand tight. “You must tell me. It is so important. What do you see?”
She looked up and found agony on his face. “I see…you. Me…and you…in a bed.”
His smile spread wider than she’d seen it yet.
“And?”
Glancing to the red lacquered interior again, she closed her eyes, for her body blazed to make the vision reality. Another of her pleasured cries rose from the box as she raised her gaze to his eyes. “We’re good together.”
“Thank you.” He closed the lid on her gasping wails. “No one else has ever seen what you have.”
She gulped. “You mean I will be your first?”
“The box shows the deepest desire of your heart and mine. Please, don’t be afraid.” His eyes, too, offered his smile. “I have waited an eternity for you.” He cupped her chin with his palm as he leaned across the table. “Come to me, my angel, and let me love you.”
Chapter Five
She ought to say no and run. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on his and nodded as a whirlwind rushed through her so she could scarce think of anything but the vision in the box. “Yes.”
He rose from the seat opposite and reached out to caress a strand of her hair by her cheek. “You will stay tonight?”
Oh God.
Everything but him slid away. The rest of the room dissolved into a dark haze. Nothing existed but this man who stood so near and yet at the end of a tunnel of light. She stood and gave a small gasp as the distance between them melted away. Thankful to touch him she stepped into his embrace. Warm and s
oft, the long sleeves of his velvet robe enveloped her. He tightened his arms around her and bent his head to hers.
“Please, tell me you will stay?”
The words skimmed by her ear with his gentle breath and she reached up to put her arms around his neck, edged forward to press her breasts and tingling nipples against the comfort of his body. How could she refuse him when she’d seen in the box she would stay? Tonight she would roll on the silken sheets with him and if the vision was true, would discover something she’d always hoped to find. “Yes, Miles. I’ll stay tonight.”
At the first soft touch of his lips on hers she closed her eyes. The gentle caress wasn’t enough because she wanted more, much more. She stroked her tongue against his lips and gave a satisfied groan at the moment he opened his mouth and sucked her tongue within. He rolled his tongue against hers and a swell of sheer lust shook through her loins. The heat of his mouth stirred the passion as if she stood naked under his caresses.
He tasted of the sweetened wine, of honey, of spices and most of all of desire. His lips massaged hers. Tortuously slow he tasted, licked and flicked his tongue over hers. He fed on her as if she were some rare delicacy.
Oh, God, yes.
A hot pool of need for him warmed her belly, loins, and between her thighs. She edged closer still, tighter to him and sagged as he crushed her against his body. Her hunger grew, and their kiss deepened. He held the back of her head with his fingers tangled in her hair and thrust his tongue into her mouth. The rapid repeated movements made her push against him. She ached for him to be inside her to soothe her need.
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