The Bear's Home

by Emilia Hartley

  “So does that mean you’re giving up on sex, then?” Tess scoffed.

  “No can do,” he said, “I just find you too damn attractive.”

  Tess laughed while Cynthia rolled her eyes. Connor looked the same as he always had after the last year, stacks of muscle and shirts that were always too tight. But, the love that Connor and Tess shared was more than just appearance.

  Cynthia secretly hoped that was the same bond that she and Alex shared.

  They were all rocked from their thoughts as the sound of a loud thumping engine rolled its way down the driveway.

  “What the hell is that?” Connor wondered. He walked outside. Tess stood up as fast as she could with her pregnant belly to join him. The den had grown over the past year. The once shoddily built houses that lined the dirt road were rapidly disappearing to make way for real homes. Nothing large and fancy, anyway, just something cozy where you could keep a roof over your head on a rainy day. The person they had to thank for that was Samantha. She’d come through for them on so many levels. With her newfound wealth she paid off the mortgage and help fund the housing venture.

  She was, after all, the godparent to Tess’s first two children. She had to spoil them.

  Waddling her way to the patio, Tess saw what was causing the commotion. An old, yellow truck. She thought it sounded familiar, but it had been so long since she’d heard the sound of that engine that it faded from memory.

  “What is this!?” Connor shouted, running out to stare at the shiny new paint job.

  “It’s a gift,” Samantha said, “Remember? I destroyed your last one?”

  Tess wasn’t there, but she’d heard stories of how Samantha grew into a massive bear right before Connor’s eyes. Such a small girl, yet so powerful. Deserving of the title of alpha.

  “I had to take the thing down to base parts, I tried to salvage as much as I could but it’s basically brand new from the ground up. I thought you might like it.” She plopped the keys in Connor’s hand.

  “For me?” he asked. Samantha nodded. He wrapped himself around her so fast that her head spun.

  From the passenger seat of the truck stepped Billy. Yes, that Billy. He and Samantha had been dating for the last six months. She once told Tess that he was nice to her when she was stuck in the cage. They’d chat every night, and Billy would keep her company till she fell asleep. It sounded romantic, in an awkward way.

  “At least he found somebody,” Cynthia said, gagging. She didn’t like the idea of Sam dating that creep, but if he made her happy what could she say? Her mind wandered when she heard the sound of Alex’s motorcycle start to make its way into the den. He crawled past the new truck that stood in his way and pulled to a stop a moment later. Kicking out the stand and pulling off his sunglasses, he examined the beautiful new truck.

  “Who’s is this?” he asked.

  “Mine,” Connor said with pride.

  “Damn, I’m going to have to find out who your mechanic is.” Samantha smiled and waved at him. “No way, you did this?” She giggled as Billy came around the truck to hold his woman.

  Alex couldn’t help but wonder what she saw in him. Nonetheless, he had something else on his mind.

  Cynthia tackled Alex. She had something that she wanted to tell him but her nerves weren’t allowing her to.

  “Hey Cyn, can we talk?” He looked over the people that were gathering around the truck, “… alone?”

  At least this would make things easier. She walked arm in arm with him to the side of the old farmhouse. She remembered this spot clearly from a long time ago. It was the place where they’d first shared a real kiss, and the same spot where he’d asked her to run away with him before the fights started.

  “We’ve been together for almost two years now, and it’s got me thinking. The memories we’ve shared together, the experiences, I think we’re a really good match,” he said. He fumbled with something inside of his pocket. “I can’t imagine going anywhere in life without you. You’re my best friend and my partner.” He knelt down on his knee. Cynthia shuddered all throughout her body, her knees became weak, and a lump stuck itself in the back of her throat. “Will you marry me?” He held up a ring box, inside was a simple ring. A gold band with a small diamond inset.

  Cynthia did her best not to cry, but she couldn’t help herself. “Yes.”

  Alex stood back up as Cynthia leapt into his arms. She covered his face with kisses. It probably wasn’t appropriate for the children watching from the kitchen.

  “I have something to tell you, too.” She was still overcome with emotion. Alex returned her to the ground and she wiped at the tears on her face. “Alex, I’m pregnant.” His face went blank. She worried that he was going to take back the ring. He was a man that valued his freedom. He went out of his way to make sure he had it. Having kids would only slow him down.

  “I have never loved you more than I have right now,” he said. He snatched her by the arm and ran to the front of the farmhouse where everyone stood nonchalantly.

  “Guys, I have an announcement!” he said. They all perked up with smiles on their faces. “Dammit, you already know, don’t you?”

  Samantha coughed into her hand. But, Billy was the one that gave it away.

  “Connor told us you was goin’ to town to buy a ring, and Tess told me that Cynthia was pregnant.” He said.

  Alex smacked his hand on the truck, giving it a new dent.

  “What the hell man! That was a brand new fender!” Connor shouted. Samantha waved her hand.

  “Don’t worry about it. Now that you have it back, that probably means it’s time to start a new adventure anyway.”

  Really, they already had found their new adventure; family. The future never looked brighter.

  I hope you enjoyed the Alpha Wolves series! Turn the page to begin the Timeless Curse of Lord Dabney, a short story standalone!

  The Timeless Curse of Lord Dabney

  Emilia Hartley

  CHAPTER 1

  It wasn’t easy leaving her entire world behind. Even if she did plan to come back eventually. Packing her bag, even for a couple weeks, had felt like she was abandoning the world she knew. And she was, wasn’t she? She had never been to England before, never even met her maternal grandmother or any of her family, really, and now here she was, flying across the Atlantic to attend the funeral of a stranger.

  The engines of the plane gave a gentle roar and the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign blinked on above her head. Well, it was too late to turn back now.

  Glancing down at the papers on her lap, Ellie Fitzgerald sighed. Three days ago, she had been outlining her dissertation on Regency England, a period she had been drawn to since before she could remember, and worrying about whether her cute but gawky classmate, Seth, was going to ask her out on their third date.

  Then she got the call.

  “Elizabeth Fitzgerald?” came the voice on the other end of the line. The voice was British, curt and concise, but ever so polite.

  Confused, Ellie frowned. Why was an Englishman calling her at two in the afternoon on a Saturday? “Yes, this is she. Can I help you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the man said. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but my name is Barnard Seton, and I am the late Victoria Hargrove’s attorney. I am calling to discuss the parameters of her will.”

  All the breath escaped from Ellie’s lungs. Her knees collapsed and she sank to the floor, leaning against her bed. “L-late?” she stammered, not comprehending. “Do you mean…is my grandmother…she’s gone?”

  The deafening silence on the other end of the line confirmed that she was.

  Ellie’s heart ached with grief. She had never even met her grandmother, but she had always wanted to, and knowing she had family in England had been one of the only things keeping her connected to the memory of her mother, whom she had lost when she was just thirteen years old. Now her grandmother was gone as well; there was no one left. Tears slid freely down her cheeks, but Ellie didn’t brush them
away.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Barnard replied, his voice full of sympathy. “I thought you knew. I sent you a letter by post only a few days ago. My apologies that I reached you before you had received it.”

  A letter. He sent a letter? Pulling herself to her feet, Ellie rushed over to the little stool by the front door of her studio apartment and rifled through her mail until she found an envelope from Seton & Associates. She hastily ripped a letter opener across the top and retrieved the contents.

  “The instructions in your grandmother’s will,” Barnard continued, “state that she has bequeathed you all of her material and financial belongings, including Hargrove House.”

  “She left me a house?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Hargrove House. The estate has been in your family for generations and, seeing as her only daughter passed on thirteen years ago, you are Lady Hargrove’s sole heir and beneficiary. However, the will stipulates you will need to come to Dover to formally receive the estate.”

  Disbelief warred with delight. She owned a house. Ellie had never even owned so much as a room before. Even her car was a hand-me-down from her father. And now she owned a house in...

  “Wait, did you just say I have to come to Dover to receive my inheritance? As in Dover, Kent in England?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” If Barnard thought her funny or possibly even missing a few marbles, he certainly didn’t show it. “As soon as possible, ma’am. Your grandmother wanted you to accept the estate within two weeks of her passing.”

  Ellie’s heart sank and her normally pale cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she managed to murmur, her voice barely above a whisper, “but I can’t afford a ticket to England in two weeks. I can’t even manage it in two years. I’m…I’m a grad student. I wait tables and study history for a living. I mean, I’m only twenty-six. I’m sorry, Mr. Seton. I’m just not going to be able to make that work.”

  “All the arrangements have been taken care of,” he replied kindly. “Your airline ticket should be included with the letter I sent you, as is a letter from your grandmother. We will be expecting you by the end of the week.”

  Ellie closed her eyes and listened to the captain tell the cabin to prepare for landing. She heard the stewardess advising passengers to close their trays and put their seats in an upright position.

  She was almost there.

  Fighting back nerves, Ellie gazed down at her Grandmother’s letter, laying in her lap.

  My dearest Elizabeth,

  You must think me a horrible grandmother, dear, never making the trip over to meet you. However, you mustn’t think less of me. I had my reasons, and I promise you, I had only your best interests at heart.

  If you are reading this letter, that means that I am gone. And, as your mother, my sweet Anne, passed away so long ago, all I have now belongs to you. My belongings, my estate. My burdens.

  There are responsibilities you must uphold for the Hargroves, my dear grandchild. Hargrove House is yours, though you have never lain eyes on her. She now belongs to you, and I implore you not to give her up, no matter how tempting the offer may be. Her walls hold many secrets, my dear, but many treasures as well, and I am hoping that you will be able to find love and happiness within them.

  Hargrove House has been in the family for generations. It has always been my home. Now it is yours.

  All my love,

  Grandmother Victoria Hargrove

  CHAPTER 2

  Ellie quietly brushed a tear from her cheek. It was amazing that she could miss a woman she had never met. Perhaps it was the connection to her mother that made her so nostalgic, she wasn’t sure. Yet one thing she did know was that she had no desire to be going on this errand. Even if she had always wanted to visit England.

  The plane gave a lurch as the landing gear touched down and the machine coasted to a stop. Ellie gazed eagerly out the small oval window at Gatwick Airport. The large glass windows of the dome welcomed her, graced here and there by British flags. Excitement coursed through her veins and Ellie felt a smile tug at her lips. Okay, so maybe she did want to be here. Just a little bit.

  Despite herself, Ellie found she was grinning all through the airport and on to baggage claim, staring around at the people as if she were in another world. England. She had finally made it to England. She couldn’t wait to tell her father all about it.

  As she walked out of the main doors of the airport, she spotted a man in a crisp black suit and cap. He was standing in front of a shiny black sedan holding a sign that read “Fitzgerald.” Ellie smiled shyly and got into the car, her eyes glued to the windows as they drove through the countryside.

  It took nearly forty-five minutes to reach the town of Dover in County Kent, but Ellie didn’t mind at all. As they drove through the streets of town, she longingly took in the picturesque terraced buildings of red, white, and yellow brick silhouetted against the sheer face of the famous White Cliffs. It all looked exactly as she imagined it and Ellie couldn’t help but feel as excited as a little girl on Christmas. She loved the architecture, the Tudor-style buildings and the fountain in the town square, the feel of it all. Quietly thrilled, she gazed in astonishment as Dover Castle came into view on the horizon. The centuries-old fortress loomed over the town at the top of the hill, like a sentinel at the edge of the ocean. Ellie couldn’t help but feel as if she’d been there before, though she knew that was crazy.

  “Must be all my research,” she murmured under her breath.

  Before long, town turned to countryside and the road they were on led away from the ocean until finally, they turned on a narrow, paved road situated between two large stone pillars. Tall trees lined either side of the driveway until it gave way to an enormous manicured lawn rolling up and down plush, green slopes of grass.

  Ellie let out a gasp. There it was. Hargrove House. It was just as beautiful as she imagined it would be. Stone steps led from the pavement that circled a gorgeous fountain to a heavy black door situated in the very center of a line of four tan stone pillars. On either side of the door were broad windows that illuminated the rooms within with natural light. The architecture was exquisite and Ellie thought she was in a dream. It was like a house straight out of her history books. It was three stories high, and at either corner, the stones bulged out to form what almost looked like a turret. She could only imagine the circular rooms within were the drawing room or the library. She hoped one on the upper floor was the master bedroom, as she would love to have the view from all those windows.

  But you’re not staying, she reminded herself. You’re only here for two weeks, then back to your life. You have a father who would be miserable without your company and a dissertation to write. You can’t just run off to England and never look back.

  Oh, but what if she could? The things she could learn! Being right there in the thick of it was better than any history book, even if she was two centuries too late. There was an entire side of her history that she didn’t know. She could learn about her family, her grandmother, her mother.

  She could learn about her mother.

  Forcing herself to calm down, Ellie gripped the golden locket she always wore around her neck. Inside was a picture of her mother and herself when she was just a child. The letter “H” was engraved on the back. She never took it off.

  Stepping out of the car, Ellie smiled at the driver and the valet who rushed down the steps to collect her things. The front door opened and two men stepped out onto the sprawling stone terrace lining the front of the house.

  “Miss Fitzgerald,” one of them greeted her politely, taking her small hand in both of his. “My name is Barnard Seton. Thank you so much for making the journey. It was out of your way, I know, but it was extremely important to your grandmother that her will be handled just so.”

  Ellie offered him a small smile. “Hello, Mr. Seton,” she said, letting him lead her up the steps. She turned warmly to the other man standing there, hoping she came off as cordial instead of ter
rified. Ellie had spent most of her life absorbed in books rather than interacting with actual people, something her father frequently discouraged. But Ellie couldn’t help it. She was a researcher and she was shy. Being reclusive just seemed natural. The downfall, however, was that her interactions with others always seemed forced, causing her much awkward embarrassment. Like now.

  “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” the other man said kindly. He was quite a bit older than Mr. Seton; two decades at least. His hair was white and clipped as straight and tidy as the suit he wore, not one thing out of place. Ellie wondered for a moment if all British men were as stiff and polite as these two or if her grandmother just had a certain taste. “My name is Reginald, and I am the head butler here at Hargrove House. Anything you need, ma’am, and you just let myself or Eileen know, we will make sure it is taken care of.”

  “I’m sure you’re tired,” Mr. Seton said, to which Ellie nodded. “I will let you get situated, and I will be back first thing tomorrow morning to begin legalities.”

  As there was no room for argument, Ellie merely nodded again. “Thank you, Mr. Seton.”

  “If you would come with me, ma’am,” Reginald said, offering his arm, “I will show you to your rooms. No, no. Arthur will get your things, ma’am. You are the mistress of this house now. Our job is to serve you. This way.”

  The inside of the house was just as grand as the outside. Dark wooden moldings graced the corners, ceilings, and baseboards, accentuating the striped cream wallpaper that almost glittered in the sunlight. The furniture didn’t exactly look comfortable, but it did appear expensive, and most of it antique.

  Reaching out, Ellie slid one finger over a glossy marble table that looked centuries old. Suddenly the room shifted. Gas lamps replaced the modern lighting; large, heavy curtains surrounded the windows; the wallpaper was replaced with a rich Tuscan yellow; a lush, ornate rug lay beneath her feet.

  Gasping, Ellie caught sight of her reflection in a mirror. Where she had once been wearing a soft cashmere sweater and a comfortable pair of jeans, she was now in a long muslin dress, cinched just below her breasts and sweeping all the way down to the floor. Her face was lightly powdered, her cheeks warm and rosy beneath a crown of delicate orange curls, but her eyes were no longer the shy but content green she was used to; instead they were filled with a deep sorrow and a sense of loss more powerful than Ellie had ever known, not even when her mother passed. Instinctively, she clasped her locket again.