Hargrove House: The Haunted Book One

by Allie Harrison

  He slipped his hands beneath the sweatshirt he’d given her to wear. His hot, rough hands—with them he knew just how to touch her, just where to place them on her breasts. Her nipples responded instantly with a hardness that called for more of his touch. Torrie rose up slightly so as to get the shirt over her head when she paused the kiss to take a breath.

  Will looked down at her. His eyes were dark with passion and reflected the light of the fire. “You are so beautiful.”

  When he touched his lips to her breast, Torrie thought he might have to peel her off the ceiling, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The last thing she wanted was for his children to hear. With his lips on one breast, he kneaded the other with one hand before he slowly moved down to the flatness of her belly. When he reached into the top of the sweatpants and filled her with two fingers, Torrie groaned and wasted no time reaching for his belt. Within the next two minutes, the two of them were skin to skin, warmed by one another as well as the fire.

  He glanced up, looked deeply into her eyes, looked into her.

  “Don’t even think about telling me no this time.” His voice was rough and husky with passion.

  A small smile moved slowly across her lips. She couldn’t have looked away from him if her life depended on it. “I’m not going to say no.” As if to show him she meant to keep her word, Torrie moved her legs and wrapped her uninjured one around his waist, holding him tight enough to let him know she had no intention of letting him go.

  “Good.” He kissed her and melted into her softness in the same instant.

  She gasped into his kiss.

  He made love to her with his tongue, just as he did with the rest of his body. As one kiss melted into the next, Torrie felt as if she floated higher and higher. With his hands on her, his lips on her, his body covering hers and their souls touching as he made love to her, Torrie had never before felt so loved, so wanted, so desired, so cherished.

  “You fit me so perfectly,” she murmured between kisses.

  “I knew it would be so.”

  “Is that another of those things you know about me?”

  “Yes…”

  For the first time in her life, she was able to relax and trust in another person. When he tumbled her over the edge of reason, the very edge of sanity with a climax unlike any she’d ever dreamed possible, she held on to him as if he were her lifeline.

  “Are you all right?” he asked later.

  They lay together by the fire, still warm from the flames in the fireplace as well as by the flames of passion. Yet, Torrie had no concept of time. Had it been hours since he’d managed to send her spinning headlong into ecstasy? Or mere minutes? She couldn’t be sure.

  “Yes, perfectly. You?” she asked.

  “Never better,” but he’d had to clear his throat before he could utter those two words.

  “But I feel as if I’m still floating,” she said, taking a deep breath. Then she yawned. “In fact, it would be so easy to keep my eyes closed and just drift into dreamland.” Now that she tried, she found it harder to open them.

  He reached up and pulled a blanket from the sofa, using it to cover them both.

  “You think you can carry me all the way up the stairs, huh?”

  He chuckled as he settled down beside her and took her in his arms.

  His chest made for a great pillow. “I don’t think I’m going to need the blanket,” she forced out.

  “How’s your foot feel?”

  “Better.” Especially with his warmth coursing through her. Again, Torrie yawned loudly. “I’m so tired..”

  “Please don’t be angry with me, but you’re tired because I put laudanum in your cocoa.”

  “You put what in my cocoa? Laudanum? Opium?”

  “I wanted you to be able to sleep and not have any pain keeping you awake.”

  His voice sounded so far away.

  “And then you made love to me.”

  “Yes. I needed you more than I needed to breathe.”

  “But where did you get…”

  She thought she heard his voice from somewhere very far away. “Dream…Dream of us…Remember us…”

  Darkness swallowed her, and the pain in her ankle, as well as the sound of his voice, were gone, and forgotten in an instant.

  Torrie found herself in the ballroom. The train of the green gown she wore—the same one as the one from the attic—swished as Will spun her about the room in a perfect waltz. At least a hundred couples danced around them. The music was provided by a quartet of musicians playing an array of stringed instruments on the elevated platform on the far side of the room. The music was not drowned out by the talking and laughter of the many guests, all men decked out in black with white gloves, and the ladies displaying their finest dresses and jewels that glittered in the bright lights of the large room.

  “It’s a lovely party, darling.” She smiled up at him.

  Will looked nearly the same as he did every day she saw him as she refurbished the house except now he sported a curly mustache. Staring up at it, she smiled, knowing it tickled when he kissed her.

  “Happy birthday, my love,” he said to her.

  “You always do know how to throw the best parties.”

  “It’s well worth it seeing the surprise and happiness on your face.” He held her closer as he turned a circle and expertly avoided any of the other many dancers on the floor.

  “Why would I not be happy, given by the fact I’m surrounded by my wonderful husband and children and all my friends?”

  He smiled. “I am wonderful, aren’t I?”

  She laughed and held him tighter as he twirled her about.

  “And how does your foot feel?” he asked.

  “I told you it’s all healed. Dr. Randford said it was good as new, and I should just be careful stepping out of a carriage in the future.”

  “And not be so impatient as to not wait for me to help you.”

  “Quit trying to scold me. I’m fine. We can dance all night if you like.” She squeezed his hand that she held.

  He leaned close. “I plan to do more than dance.”

  “And do you like your gift?” he asked.

  Torrie turned to take in the large elegantly framed portrait on the far wall—the beautiful portrait of herself sitting in the gazebo—the same portrait Torrie had helped Will bring down from the attic. “Would I be vain if I said I loved it and it’s a perfect likeness of me?”

  “You’d be truthful.”

  “And however did you have it painted? I never posed for that. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had a bouquet of roses in my lap.”

  He shook his head slightly. “It’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

  “You’re wicked,” she purred.

  “Wickedly in love with you. And perhaps tomorrow I should remedy that thought of you not having a bouquet of roses.” And he kissed her right there on the dance floor before all their guests. His mustache did tickle. His kiss sent a flutter into the pit of her stomach. Hadn’t they just made love? In front of the fire in the parlor? Torrie was suddenly confused by the time and place. Not that it mattered. She wanted him again, more than ever.

  “Now none of that, Will!” a man called out as he and his beautiful partner danced by.

  Torrie knew the man’s name was Benedict Smith. And the lady who waltzed with him was Glenna McFerson, his fiancée.

  “Yes, save it for later, old man!” someone else called out. James Thompson.

  She chuckled at their jokes as well as with anticipation of later. She was able to read Will like a book. She knew he had plans for later just as he’d expertly planned this surprise birthday party for her.

  The waltz ended and applause filled the room.

  “Where did you get the excellent lobster?” Joseph Brennen asked once he’d drawn close enough and didn’t have to yell past others.

  “I had them shipped all the way from Maine,” Will replied, taking Torrie’s hand.

  “I gu
ess it pays to own your own railroad.”

  “It pays to own refrigerated cars, Brennen!” Will put in. “I told you to invest in them.”

  “All right, I’ll do that tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow…Tomorrow…You need to stop putting things off. That’s how I got ahead in this world. And I just want the same thing for my best friend.”

  Joseph Brennen laughed out loud and heartily. “You got ahead in this world by marrying Victoria Mansfield!”

  Will smiled lovingly down at Torrie. “It sure didn’t hurt falling in love with the boss’s daughter!”

  “You better keep her happy, or someone’s liable to try to steal her away.”

  It was Will’s turn to laugh. “My own brother keeps threatening that!”

  Torrie heard his words, but at the same time, she felt tension flow through him. At the thought of Will’s brother, Nathan, her stomach churned. Yes, Nathan did want her. She’d be stupid not to realize it. She’d be stupid to ever be in a room alone with Will’s frightening brother. And the last thing she wanted was to ruin her wonderful party by talking about him.

  She squeezed his hand. “Darling? We need to go down and check on the children.” She knew it was early, and they wouldn’t want to go to bed. Besides the music would keep them awake well into the night, and she also knew a large birthday cake with her name on it was hidden in the kitchen. She had no doubt Will had promised them they could come up for a piece and to watch her blow out the candles. So she had no plans to make them get ready for bed, but she wanted to check on them nonetheless. Something within the wonderfully, perfectly planned party didn’t feel right, but Torrie couldn’t put her finger on it. It was like an odor she couldn’t define. And the very thought of Nathan enhanced the bad feeling. She wanted more than anything to change the subject and forget about Nathan. She wished Will would put Nathan on a boat heading to China.

  But for now, her children could always easily cheer her up.

  With her hand tucked warmly in his, he led her down the stairs. From the railing above, Benedict Smith called out again. “Couldn’t wait until all your guests leave, could you?”

  “Just wait until you have Glenna all to yourself. You won’t be able to wait, either!”

  Torrie laughed and followed him down, her hand tucked warmly in his. “Darling?”

  “Yes, my pet?”

  “Does Joseph know how to get into the attic?”

  “Yes, he does. I showed him the secret door before when he helped me carry a trunk up there.”

  Victoria didn’t know why it was important that Will’s best friend, Joseph, should know how to get into the attic, but it was.

  Their beautiful children were all in the boys’ room. Alexander and his twin brother, Aiden, played with the train set. Eleanor sat on the floor not too far away from the train where she could watch it go by as she read the book she held. Miss Velvet sat leaning against her knee. Violet, the sassy, middle girl with red hair and green eyes, lay on Alexander’s bed, sketching in one of many of her sketch books. At age ten, the girl showed great talent and promise.

  All of them looked up as their parents entered the room. “How are you children doing down here?”

  “Fine, Papa,” the two boys chorused.

  “Very well, Papa, thank you,” Eleanor hardly looked up from her book to reply.

  “Not me,” Violet said, sitting up with a snap. “I’d rather be upstairs in the ballroom enjoying the party. I don’t understand why I have to stay down here with the children.” She said the word children as if she sucked on a lemon at the same time.

  “Because you are a child, my dear,” her father reminded her gently.

  “I’m practically a young lady.” She tapped the charcoal with which she sketched against the paper to show her irritation.

  “The key word there is young,” Torrie said, stepping close to give her daughter a kiss on the top of her carrot top.

  “Not that young,” Violet whined. She tried to act as if the kiss bothered her, but she didn’t quite succeed.

  “Mama, look at how I rearranged the track to make the train go in a long circle so it crosses the bridge.” Aiden carefully placed the locomotive on the track as he spoke.

  Torrie gave the engineer of the group a quick hug, and he allowed it without protest. “Make it go around so I can see it.”

  He did as she asked as Torrie carefully knelt down near Eleanor. “And how’s the book, Eleanor?”

  “Rather boring, actually, but I hate quitting anything in the middle. I’ve considered penning my own book. I think I could do much better.” Eleanor absently turned a page.

  Torrie smiled and patted Eleanor’s knee, knowing the girl didn’t care for much more affection unless she made the first move. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. How about tomorrow we get you some paper and something easy to write with and see what you can do.”

  Eleanor smiled happily and looked up from the book. “Thank you, Mama.”

  Will looked at their last child. “And what about you, Alexander? Don’t you have anything to say?”

  “I’m just busy working on getting this town set up perfectly,” he said as he moved a small building that lined the tracks of the train set. “Aiden can worry about whether or not the train moves, but everyone knows that without a town, the train has nowhere to stop so there would be no reason to have the train in the first place.” He moved a small tree first to one place then another. Then he moved the small buildings to form a street.

  “Tomorrow I’m going to paint one side of all the train cars,” Violet said.

  “What do you plan to paint on them,” her father asked, knowing better to question her than to just say no.

  “They should all say Hargrove Shipping,” she informed him.

  Will offered her a proud smile. He reached down and took Torrie’s hand and helped her to her feet. She squeezed his and he knew her thoughts of pride for the business and the family. “The train belongs to Alexander and Aiden. So if they say it’s all right, you may paint on the cars. Otherwise, leave them alone,” he instructed firmly.

  “Yes, Papa,” Violet let out.

  They all knew well that Violet would get her way. She was her father’s daughter and could be very persuasive when she wanted or needed to be.

  “We’ll be back to check on you again later. Eleanor’s in charge, so you children listen to her,” Will added.

  “As if she’s saying much,” Aiden put in. “With her nose buried in that book, she’s not said a word.”

  “Well, you mind her if she does,” their father instructed. “And thank you for keeping an eye on everything, Eleanor.”

  “You’re welcome,” she mumbled, not giving up on her reading.

  Will led Torrie out of the room. “We are so blessed,” she said softly. As she looked at Will while they moved down the hall, she took in the third bedroom—Violet’s room. Tiny violets in the white wallpaper graced the walls. An artist’s easel and drawing table were near the window. Various works of art hung on the walls. It fit Violet to a T.

  With his fingers laced through hers, he squeezed her hand tightly. Then he brought her hand up and kissed the back of it. “That we are, my dear. That we are.”

  “We aren’t going back upstairs?”

  There was really no need for her to ask. She knew him so well, she knew he wanted to stop in the master bedroom for a little party of their own…

  Torrie awoke with a start.

  The room was dark and still. It took several minutes for her to grasp where she was. The cooling embers in the fireplace and the rain still pelting the roof and windows didn’t help.

  Then she remembered—Hargrove House. She was actually sleeping under the roof of Hargrove House, the haunted house she’d once accepted a dare to enter.

  Not only that, but the man of her dreams was pressed up against the back of her. His thighs spooned against hers, his chest warm against her back. For a long moment, she didn’t dare to breathe. She snuggled
deeper into the pillows and closer against him, not the least bit intimidated by the idea of sleeping in Hargrove House. She had easily come to love it, as well as the man who slept so close.

  She closed her eyes and thought about her dream. No matter how real it felt—it couldn’t be real. It had to be nothing more than a dream. She couldn’t have danced if she wanted to. Hell, she thought as she painfully moved her foot. She’d be lucky if she could stand, much less walk, in the morning.

  What had Will said? Laudanum? Had he really drugged her? Surely that had been a dream, too. Will danced with her and kissed her. He made love to her. He would never…

  Her mind was too foggy for the idea to frighten her.

  Yet, at the same time, if it were true, the drug took the edge off the pain. She supposed she should be grateful for something until tomorrow when she could get some real painkillers. She closed her eyes, stretched slightly and shifted position, feeling like a warm, contented cat on the sofa.

  In his sleep, Will shifted and moved with her, staying close.

  What could have been a few moments or a few hours, she woke slightly again, feeling cold as the idea touched her that Will was no longer pressed against her back. Where had he gone? She was too sleepy and groggy to turn and check. Besides, her foot didn’t hurt, and she didn’t chance moving it and bringing about any unwanted pain. He’d be back, she thought. Where would he go? This was his house. It wasn’t as if he would sneak out. Yet as she once again drifted off into the darkness of sleep, she could have sworn she heard the sounds of the shovel in the cellar.

  Again, she found herself in the ballroom, but now she was alone.

  Remnants of the party were scattered about the room. What was left of the large cake on her tea cart was nearby as well as empty glasses. Where was Alice? It wasn’t like Alice to leave things like this. No matter how late the evening was, no matter how many times she was told all of the mess could wait until the next morning.

  She thought of Will, how he was so thoughtful, how he loved her. She’d never expected to find such love in marriage. Heaven knew her own parents had never displayed such love. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of earlier after they’d checked on their children. They had been discussing how blessed they were. He held her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. Then the most mischievous sparkle had come to his blue eyes.