A Passion So Strong

by Chasity Bowlin

  More to the point, she thought, would he be willing? He’d acted protective of her, he’d acted as if he were concerned for her welfare. That did not mean he desired her or that he’d amenable to engaging in scandalous behavior with her.

  “Certainly, Lord Strong. We’ll go in the morning,” she offered.

  “I cannot help but feel that the Ladies Ravenner are plotting some great scheme.”

  Anne nodded. “That goes without saying, Lord Strong. They are always plotting some scheme or other. The greatness of them is often debatable.”

  “I will help you with the dishes,” he offered.

  “I couldn’t allow that, Lord Strong. You are our guest here,” she replied smoothly. The truth was, she needed a reprieve. She needed a moment away from his overwhelming presence to fully understand what was happening in her own mind.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was a dangerous thing, wandering about in a house with a single and undeniably attractive woman while her shockingly lackadaisical chaperones retired for the night. Had she been any other woman, and had he been a man with prospects worthy of entrapment, he might have questioned her motives. But Miss Anne Everleigh did not strike him as the type to set her cap for a man, and she certainly did not strike him as the sort who would use nefarious methods to get tangle him in a parson’s mousetrap. Her aunts were another matter entirely.

  Rising from the table, he eased her chair back. As he did so, he let his fingertips brush her shoulders once more. It was a slight touch, but feeling the soft resilience of her skin beneath the fabric of her gown was its own kind of sweet torture. How long had it been since he’d truly wanted a woman? Not just the desire to bed one, but the desire of a specific creature, one for whom there could be no substitute? He wanted to kiss her, he realized. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath.

  It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to. Like any man, he felt the demands of desire. It was simple biology like hunger or thirst, but this was unlike anything he’d ever experiences. Had he ever wanted a woman this way?

  The answer was glaringly apparent. Never. Even his youthful infatuation with the young woman who’d thrown him over for his older, landed brother had not effected him in the same visceral way that Anne did.

  There was a quiet dignity about her, but also a fire just below the surface. Her loyalty to her aunts, women in his estimation who clearly did not deserve her favor, was a testament to her character. But as she rose from the table, and he could smell the light scent of her hair and see the perfect texture of her skin, it wasn’t her character that drew him.

  With lush curves and a quiet prettiness, she was everything he desired in a woman. And they were alone. Sebastian stepped closer to her, so close that he could feel the fabric of her gown brushing against his own clothes, that her breath, when it escaped on a rush, ruffled his still too long hair. His hands came up, cupping her upper arms, pulling her closer still. As tall as she was, he would barely have to dip his head to take her mouth, to press his lips over hers and know just how sweet she tasted. Her eyes fluttered closed as her lips parted in an invitation that only a fool could miss. She would not spurn his advance. She would welcome his kiss and God help him, he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath. Sebastian leaned forward, just a heartbeat away from taking what he so desperately wanted.

  The clock in the hallway chimed abruptly. The soft ding of its bell reverberated through the house and the spell, if that’s what it had been, was broken.

  “Miss Everleigh, I—.” He stopped abruptly. Sanity intruded. There was nothing he could say to her, nothing that he should say to her, in their present circumstances. Whatever their situation was at present, he was a younger son with no prospects. He was there as an employee for her nephew for pete’s sake. What right did he have to say speak to her of admiration, or desire? None. Absolutely none. And kissing her, taking such liberties was beyond the pale.

  “Yes, Lord Strong?”

  He let go of her, stepping back from her until they were more than an arm’s length apart. Taking the coward’s way out, Sebastian offered a stiff bow. “Good night, Anne.”

  “Good night, Lord Strong,” she replied softly.

  He told himself, as he fled to his room, that the note of disappointment in her voice had been pitched there solely by his own wishful thinking. Entering his chamber, Sebastian leaned his head back against the heavy wooden door, thumping it there repeatedly for a moment. It did nothing to dissipate the aching need he felt to kiss her. What the devil was happening to him?

  ***

  Anne stood there in the dining room for the longest time. He’d meant to kiss her. She was certain of it. She’d felt his intent. A part of her had been clamoring for it, her inner voice chanting for him to simply do it. How it was possible to crave something so desperately when she wasn’t even certain what it was remained a mystery. Regardless, since he’d appeared in the drawing room earlier that day, she’d been on edge. Her senses sharpened. She felt and heard everything. His scent, the sound of his voice, the heat of him when he was near. Even the sensation of her own clothing pressing against her skin was too much.

  If, and it was a very big if, she believed that Minerva and Athena were even remotely capable of the magic they claimed, she would be very suspicious of them. She’d certainly never incited men’s passions before and yet there she was fending off the Squire and wishing fervently that Lord Strong would do something that would require her to fend him off. But it was all nonsense, she reminded herself. Like everything else happening in the house, a great deal of it was likely taking place in her own mind. She perceived interest from Lord Strong because she wished for it. That was all.

  Dousing the candles, she exited the dining room and climbed the stairs like a man to the gallows. Sleep would elude her. In its stead, she would have visions of Lord Strong as he leaned in, poised for a kiss that would never be delivered.

  Climbing the stairs to her room, Anne paused on the landing and looked through the narrow window there to the woods beyond. They were quiet for the night. She couldn’t say how she knew that it would remain that way, but she did.

  Reaching her room, Anne opened the door and entered her chamber. It was not the finest chamber in the house. Minerva had claimed that one for herself. But it was a serviceable room. Recalling the small dormitory where she’d lived at the school during her younger years, and the overwhelmingly grand scale of the rooms she’d held at Ravenner Abbey, it was preferable. Plain, but spacious. How fitting, she thought bitterly.

  Lighting the lamp on her dressing table, Anne removed her gown and hung it on the peg in the wardrobe before doffing her petticoat and placing it there, as well. Clad in only her shift and stays she crossed the room to the washstand and the full length mirror that stood beside it.

  What did he see when he looked at her, she wondered? With her wild hair and too plump figure, what appeal could she possibly have for him? And yet he’d been intent on kissing her before some nascent thread of reason had intruded. Perhaps she could entice him, she thought. It would not be remiss of her to put a little extra effort into her appearance. Her wardrobe was horribly insufficient. She would certainly never be able to dress like a courtesan. Even if she had the figure, she had not the funds to procure such items. But she could take extra pains with her hair and see if perhaps he noticed.

  Unlacing her stays, Anne let them fall and breathed a sigh of relief to have the offending garment removed. Naked but for her shift, she turned toward her bed and climbed into it. Alone. It was a bold thing that had taken up residence in her mind—the idea of taking a lover. Marriage was not something she anticipated in her life. It was, in fact, something she’d long given up any hope of. What was to stop her then?

  Settling herself on the edge of the bed, Anne wondered at the madness that overtaken her. Were her

  With that thought percolating, she snuffed the candle and willed herself to sleep. As she closed her eyes, she prayed fo
r a dreamless night—one in which she would not be haunted by visions of the past or by thoughts of a man she should not and could not want.

  ***

  Sebastian stared up at the ceiling. It was unaccountably warm in his room, or perhaps it was his own wayward thoughts that were responsible for the heat. Miss Anne Everleigh was pressing heavily on his mind, and not simply the weight of her problems. He was acutely aware that only a few doors separated them. Perhaps it was instinct or perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he knew that if he were to go to her, she would welcome him. So why did he hesitate?

  Because if she succumbed to temptation she would revile him for it, and herself. It was easy to imagine that Anne was the type of person who would hold herself to very exacting standards. If she compromised her standards on his account, she would likely come to despise him. He did not want that. What he did want from her precisely was something of a mystery to him, but one night in her bed would not be enough. Patience would be both his ally and his tormentor.

  Rolling onto his side, Sebastian stared through the opened curtains into the darkness beyond. Sleep would elude him, of that much he was certain. It was enough, he thought, to make him question whether or not her aunts had managed to put him under some sort of enchantment.

  What plots were they hatching? Were those plots for or against her? What did the Squire truly want—Anne or Evenwold? He had more questions than answers and he was no longer entirely certain of precisely which questions needed to be asked.

  Regardless, after touring the estate in the morning, he would go to Arundel and seek out Mrs. Travers. The housekeeper and cook had been sacked from his father’s estate due to her surly nature. She’d be happy for the work. No, he corrected. She would not be happy. Mrs. Travers would never be happy, but she would be appreciative of having a wage again. That he could be certain of.

  If only he could be sure that Ladies Minerva and Athena would not hex her and send her running. Recalling Mrs. Travers rather intimidating persona, he supposed he should welcome them to try. It might do them good to come up against a woman who would not quake in fear or offer them the same indulgence that Anne did.

  Closing his eyes, Sebastian attempted to will himself to sleep. A scent teased him. Not the faint and pleasant scent of roses that he’d inhaled when standing close to Anne earlier, but the scent of smoke. It was overwhelming to him. Opening his eyes, he noted that the room was entirely clear. As strong as the odor was, the smoke would surely have been billowing about him.

  In the darkness, he heard the door rattling again, just as it had earlier. “Who is there?” he called out.

  There was no response. The silence was heavy, oppressive. His heart began to race, his breathing growing faster. He recognized the sensation of fear, though it was one he’d rarely experienced in his life. Fear of the unknown, fear of things he could not see or explain, those were a far different matter than the fear a man typically experienced in battle.

  The scent of smoke faded, dissipating into the darkness, and the silence gave way to the typical sounds of the night. The creaking of floors as the house settled, the faint snored of either Minerva or Athena, or even Anne, could be heard drifting down the hallway. Whatever had happened, whatever had been just on the other side of that door, it was gone now, if it had ever been there at all.

  “It is a trick of the mind,” he whispered to himself. “Nothing more. Talk of magic and witches has addled your wits. And the too lush figure of a woman you should not be lusting after is not helping the matter.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Do you think he knows?”

  The whispered question had been uttered by Athena as she watched through Minerva’s bedroom window as Anne and Lord Strong crossed the garden and headed toward the woods.

  “Of course, he knows! At the very least, he’d suspect. A man doesn’t fall hopelessly head over heels in love at first sight without questioning whether or not he’s been cursed in some way,” Minerva snapped from the bed. “Whatever are you doing up, Athena?”

  “I thought I’d watch them walk out this morning. It’s so nice to see a budding romance,” she said. “We need to replace the sachets in their rooms while they’re both out. If the spell is to continue working, we need to keep the herbal charms as potent as possible!”

  “A man like that will be utterly wasted on her,” Minerva said bitterly. “Had I any inkling when we cast that spell that it would lure a man such as that to Evenwold, I’d have not been casting it for Anne! She’ll talk him to death about animal husbandry and crop rotations instead of seizing her chance at passion!”

  Athena moved away from the window and seated herself on the edge of her sister’s bed. It was best to tread carefully with Minerva when she was in one of her dark moods. And it seemed that since they’d all been banished from Ravenner Abbey by Ambrose’s greedy bride, dark moods were the only sort Minerva had. “She doesn’t remember, Minerva. And we both agreed when she was small that it was best if she did not… Of all of us, she suffered the most. She’s alone in the world, in a precarious position.”

  “Yes, and it was our fault,” Minerva offered in a bored tone. “I am not suggesting that we undo anything we have set in motion, Athena. I’m merely pointing out that we’ve cast the most powerful love spell in history to incite a violent passion in a woman who holds a three hour long debate on the merits of turnips versus potatoes…. We’ve brought her a dashing, exotic, passionate, handsome man, with just the right hint of wickedness burning in his gaze. We’ve brought her exactly the sort of man that makes every well behaved woman throw caution to the wind.”

  “Yes,” Athena said, clapping her hands happily. “We did. It worked! Does that not thrill you, sister? We haven’t had such success with a spell in ages! And it’s because she’s here in the house with us. Even when she is not an active or willing participant, Anne’s power compliments our own. We were right to bring her here! It’s a catalyst for her—an awakening of all that lies within! How exciting!”

  Minerva sat up, tugging the silk cap from her hair. “Can you be less happy in the mornings? Really?”

  “No! I refuse. It’s going swimmingly… you could positively see the tension between them last night. And just now, he’s so solicitous of her. Can you imagine how much more fun and relaxed Anne will be when she’s—well, after.”

  “No. I can’t. I still don’t think it will work. I don’t think we have the necessary ingredients to bind a spell that would overcome Anne’s good sense and moral fortitude!”

  “We shouldn’t have practiced on the Squire,” Athena added, wringing her hands worriedly. “He’s so terribly attached to her now! I’m afraid it might take an ugly turn if he discovers that there is competition for her affections. I had not anticipated that the spell would have such an effect on him when they were not destined for one another.”

  Minerva rose from the bed then, entirely oblivious to her nakedness as she walked to the window and stared out at the blissfully bespelled couple. “We will not refresh the sachets that we placed at Alcott Hall. By the next full moon, the intensity of his desire for Anne will fade and the Squire will return to simply being a somewhat revolting neighbor…. Get the book, Athena. I think we need to revisit this spell and be absolutely certain that we’ve done everything properly. If this goes wrong, it will go wrong epically.”

  Athena rose to do Minerva’s bidding, humming happily to herself as she went to their hiding place. It had been a terrible thing, having all the servants scared off, and horribly inconvenient. But it had provided the added benefit of being able to practice openly without anyone questioning what they were doing. Servants were always nosing about, finding out things that would do nothing but create problems for the lot of them.

  As Athena pressed the panel on the back wall of the cupboard, it popped forward, revealing a small space behind it. Tucked away there were the more obvious trappings of the craft. Their book, their athame, and a few of their more dangerous herbs and potions
were stored there, as well. She shuddered delicately, hoping there would never be a reason to use them. Retrieving the book, Athena hummed softly to herself as she returned to Minerva’s room.

  Casting a love spell for Anne had been a bold move for them, but it was necessary for so many reasons. The spells they’d cast when she was small, to try and ease the dreams and nightmares that haunted her, had actually created their current predicament. They’d left Anne crippled by her own cautiousness, hemmed in by practicality and with no faith in magic at all. They’d done that and now they had to fix it. And as far as Athena was concerned, there was no more transformative experience in life for a woman than falling in love and experiencing the first bloom of passion.

  “Lord Strong,” she said softly as she passed his empty chamber, “I do hope you understand just what a gift you’ve been given. There is no power on earth, no pleasure so great, as basking in the love and adoration of a Ravenner… even an honorary one.”

  ***

  The morning was brisk as Anne strolled through the woods near the house with Lord Strong at her side. Leaves littered the forest floor muffling the sound of their footsteps. They spoke little, preferring instead to enjoy the stillness of the morning and the blanket of fog that had settled over the land. Their near kiss from the night before still lingered in both their minds, or perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part they she still thought of it. If she did not, it occupied enough of his thoughts for the both of them.

  When they reached a small clearing in the woods, Anne paused and pointed toward a series of small holes that had been dug near the base of several trees. “This is one instance,” she said. “Every time I walk this way, there are more of them. The last of the maids fell and sprained her ankle in one of them while she was gathering herbs. That was the last of the servants to leave us and we’ve had no one willing to come here for work since.”