My Lord Raven (The Ravensmoor Saga)

by Tamela Quijas

  Without another word, he stalked into the dimly lit enclosure of his study, slamming the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  The house was enveloped in the early morning blue grayness that occurs scant moments before the blossoming ball of the sun crests the horizon. Kate lingered before the upstairs windows overlooking the grand staircase to the foyer. The bare branches of the rose garden spread below, the aged branches resembling cloying fingers. The stark whiteness of the obelisk obtained the rays of promised light as touches of pink stained the towering marble.

  Beyond, on the horizon, there were soft shades of magenta and purple, evident and ebbing into the orange yellow hue of the sun. She stood enraptured, waiting for the sun to lighten the frost-dappled lawn. Kate closed her eyes as the rays touched her face, reveling in the sensation of warmth and the orange glow behind her closed lids.

  Although it was early morning, the house wasn't quiet. The low hum of voices could be heard below stairs, in the spacious kitchen. The tantalizing scent of freshly baked scones, mingled with aroma of brewing coffee, assailed her. Kate opened her eyes, blinking at the steadily increasing brightness before turnings. She paused, taking an appreciate sniff at the heavily scented air, looking at the portraits adorning the wall.

  She focused on the lifelike portrait of one individual. Fancifully, she envisioned a tenuous widening of his roguish smile and a twinkle struck his enthralling eyes as sunlight lit his portrait. He seemed pleased with the end of the darkness.

  “Why do you insist on tormenting me?” She commanded aloud. The restless lure of her nightly visions had wakened her yet again, driving her from the comfort of her bed. Since her arrival at Colinwood, his image seemed bent on torturing her. Lately, his likeness assumed more of the aspects of her employer, filling her with an incomprehensible longing.

  A morose sigh left her as she wondered how Dante was fairing in Budapest. He left Colinwood at the beginning of the workweek without saying a word. Neither Anne nor Kate heard from him during the four days he'd been away, the lack of communication unnerving.

  Kate missed everything about him, from his brooding persona to his quick wit. She missed the way the sunlight highlighted the silver threads in his hair on the drive to work, the way the dimple curved in his cheek when he smiled, and the manner in which his eyes captivated her. She missed every single huge inch of him and, above all, she missed how she felt when with him.

  Kate exhaled a shuddering breath, feeling an intense blow to the region of her heart. She hadn't been the same person from the moment he'd walked into her life. She fought a battle within herself, lost long ago. Her entire world was upside down and thrown horridly off-axis. The haunting promise of his touch left her listless, aching for more. She had grown to love him, a feeling she couldn't ignore as she stared into the face of his ancestor.

  “Do you intend to stand there all day, gawking at the man?” A voice inquired waspishly from the base of the staircase. The words echoed about the foyer and Kate leapt guiltily. Reluctantly, she turned to Anne and forced a smile.

  “I didn't intend anything, especially spending my time staring at that man.” Kate grumbled unhappily, blinking to remove the hint of tear. She shoved her fists into the pockets of her jeans before descending the wide steps.

  “What, precisely, do you intend to do?” Anne posed the question churlishly. Kate noticed the girl's hands rested firmly on her hips, her stance defiant. She glinted up the staircase, her head thrown back.

  “And a pleasant good morning to you, too, Sunshine. Did you sleep well?” Kate's response was issued with a semblance of false lightness as she stared into the storm clouds in Anne's eyes.

  The girl's scowled, her mouth forming into a tight line.

  “Yes, I slept well, and yourself?” Anne realized she was being reprimanded for her rudeness.

  “I slept fine.” Kate lied.

  Anne sighed with frustration. Her pride prevented her from admitting her matchmaking had gone awry and she wondered how much more she could do. She had orchestrated several circumstances to leave the pair alone in the house, assuming additional responsibilities at Lorrington and affording every excess moment available with her friends. Instead of seizing the opportunities, her father was too involved in his work and rarely at Colinwood.

  Her lids lowered in an exact duplication of her father, as if the viewing the world through a narrower gaze would cause things to appear clearer. She tried everything, including striking up a correspondence with Kate's brother via the Internet. Not a total failure, she admitted, for she enjoyed his delightful conversation.

  She learned one thing, though, playing matchmaker was exhausting work!

  Kate halted before the young woman, and she was unaware Anne bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a yelp of glee. Despite her protests, the woman's green eyes said otherwise. She suspected her father was sorely missed. Anne affected an unconcerned shrug and grabbed Kate's arm, impulsively pulling her down the remaining steps.

  “I hate it when Papa is away.” She determined it was time to glean a bit of insight into the mechanisms of the human heart. “Colinwood is too silent.”

  Kate thought over the statement before pulling a wry face. “The place is eerily peaceful.”

  Anne's eyes rolled upwards. “I prefer it when he's here, even if he does have the bloody tendency to sneak about the house like a ghost.”

  Kate stifled a laugh at the sarcastic observance.

  “Especially when he prowls the upper floors,” she added as an afterthought, having occasionally detected the light tread of his footsteps during the night, when sleep eluded him.

  “Ah,” Anne nodded, pulling a face. “That happens when there's a lot on his mind.”

  “Apparently, he always has a lot on his mind.” Kate remarked under her breath.

  “The house seems hollow without him about, as if something were missing.”

  Kate nodded. In truth, there was an all-important element missing from Colinwood when Dante didn't roam the halls, almost an unexplained emptiness, as if the last Earl of Ravensmoor was the very essence of the building. A marked lonesomeness filled the house, the overwhelming presence of the Ravensmoor men having become too deeply ingrained in the ancient woodwork and plaster.

  “You can't insist on remaining about Colinwood, daydreaming.” Anne scoffed and Kate roused from her reverie.

  “I'm not daydreaming.” Kate protested heartily, although she felt a betraying flush rise. “I have a lot of other things on my mind.”

  “Whether you do or not,” Anne adeptly forced a deceptively bright smile to the reddened contours of her lips. “I can't abide another hour to be wasted by sitting about, Kate.”

  “Anne, my dear, you're far too much like your father. You never just sit uselessly about Colinwood.” Kate supplied. “You're the most occupied young adult I've known.”

  Anne chuckled, savoring the praise. “I have a fabulous party to celebrate in less than a fortnight, if I recall.” She mused aloud, her eyes twinkling with a wicked glee and a pensive finger tapping the corner of her chin. “I don't recall my father forbidding me to purchase any new clothes, either.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Do you want to go to High Chilternden?”

  “To town?” Kate was visibly caught off guard. “Don't you have work at Lorrington?”

  “Lorrington hasn't gone anywhere in the last three hundred years. It won't vanish if I don't go for one day. In any case, I've done nothing but work for weeks.” She huffed despondently, her arched brows lowering as she pouted. “Do you think my father will fire me if I choose not to go?”

  Kate smiled indulgently. “I have a feeling your boss would want a good excuse.”

  “What do you think of using a sick day?” Anne supplied impishly.

  “Have you any available?”

  “Honestly, I don't believe my father issued me an employment contract. I haven't any paperwork stating my precise work hours, leave time, or sick days.
” Anne admitted wryly, a deep dimple appearing in each cheek.

  “Do you get paid for all the hours you work at Lorrington?”

  Anne shrugged expressively, her hands sketching artfully at the air. “I make the same wage packet as the other employees. Granted, it lacks the necessary withdrawals for medical insurance and pension, but it's reasonable.”

  “Nepotism must be wonderful.” Kate grumbled sarcastically.

  “Perhaps I can choose to call in ill.” Anne ignored the outburst, her thoughts pensive.

  “All you would have to be concerned with is whether you or not you might run into him.” Kate supplied, feigning deep thought. “I don't think he'll be at any of the dress shops in town.”

  “Women's attire isn't my father's forte.” Anne winked conspiratorially, linking their arms. “We deserve a day of play.”

  “All work and no play….”

  “Makes a Ravensmoor excruciatingly dull, if I may say so myself.” Anne concluded with a roll of her eyes.

  “You're an absolute minx.” Kate responded, using the label Dante employed when referring to his daughter.

  “I most certainly am.” She admitted gleefully, accepting the comment as she would an endearment. “I was tutored by the best.”

  ***

  Kate stretched her tired legs to a comfortable length in the sleek automobile Anne drove. The day was spent at a leisurely stride, primarily with the pair shopping and eating. The girl was silent as she focused her attention on the winding expanse of road, a slight but steady drizzle of raindrops on the windshield. The stereo hummed with the latest tune, the song soothing.

  “What do you want for your birthday, Anne?” Kate interrupted, at a loss about what to give the girl who had everything.

  Anne remained quiet, thinking, her attention on the road. “I really couldn't care less about the party or gifts.” She admitted with an intensity that astounded Kate. There was a simple directness to her words as she continued. “The only thing I do want would cause a horrible row with my father.”

  “What would that be, Anne?” Kate wondered aloud. “There's nothing your father would refuse you.”

  Anne's gaze darted to the woman and her lips tightened before she sighed regretfully. “I would like to know my mother's identity.”

  Kate frowned. “Do you mean to tell me, you don't know?”

  “I haven't the foggiest idea.” Anne supplied, blinking to clear her blurred gaze. Kate was a trusted and dear friend, the very image of the woman she longed to be her mother in her youthful dreams. “I want to know, nothing else. I don't yearn to pursue her nor do I wish to understand why. In fact, I couldn't be more thankful. She could have left me at some government operated system.”

  Kate bit at her lower lip. “It seems simple enough.”

  “It will cause a massive row.”

  “Why?”

  “I honestly don't know or understand why.” Anne admitted with a shrug, maneuvering about a hairpin curve with exacting precision. “I've tried for years, but to no avail. Papa has a let-out every time I ask.”

  “Let-out?”

  “He changes the subject or refuses to discuss the matter.” She explained.

  Immediately, Kate remembered Dante's odd behavior when the topic of Adam's genealogical research was discussed. “Did your parent's marriage ended on a sour note?”

  “My father was unmarried when I was borne.”

  “Oh.” Kate sighed. “Maybe, your mother is a painful subject?”

  Anne laughed sarcastically. “Not as much as Angelica.”

  Kate was puzzled. “Who is Angelica?”

  “She was my step-mother, for a short while. Otherwise known as my father's entirely foolhardy attempt at provide me with comforting female influence. You didn't know about Angelica, did you?” Anne questioned, focusing on the roadway.

  “No.”

  “Well,” Anne shrugged, her eyes narrowing as she recalled the vicious woman. “She isn't exactly something my father would boast about, Kate. We don't speak of her.”

  “When did this marriage occur?”

  “Oh,” Anne paused, mentally calculating. “I must have been at primary school.”

  “Before your father assumed control of Burton?”

  “A few years prior,” Anne supplied. “The marriage only lasted six or eight months.”

  “That was a while back.” Kate responded, dazed by the information.

  “Angelica was unforgettable. She was the only daughter of Lord Greenwood and a pampered beauty in her own right. There was something between my father and her for several years. She was beautiful.” Anne stated simply, causing Kate a sharp stab of jealousy. “Long, tall, blonde, overly tanned, you name it. My father married her after my grandmother passed, presuming I needed female influence in my life.” Anne laughed bitterly. “Grandfather disapproved of the union.”

  “Your grandfather disapproved of a lot of things.” Kate commented.

  “Grandfather disapproved of everything my father did. In this case, he was correct.” Anne paused and the years slipped away as her thoughts clouded.

  “Blast it, lad, she's not your Kaitlyn!” Grandfather roared.

  “The woman doesn't exist, sir!” Dante argued, although the respect was evident despite the loudness of his tone.

  “She does, damn it all!” Grandfather had bitten out savagely. Upon reflection, Anne rationalized the loud voices were perhaps the only manner the two men knew of communicating with one another. “You're the last Ravensmoor. It's your duty to break the curse!”

  “There isn't any curse!”

  “No, Dante?” Grandfather's voice dropped a slight decibel, but Anne deciphered the bittersweet words as they wound about the door. “Do you dream, my boy?”

  “Father!”

  “Does she wait for you, boy? Does Kaitlyn wait for you to bring her home? Does she wait in the field, close enough to touch.”

  Her grandfather pressed on, her father responding with a frustrated roar. She cowered into the darkness at the anguish she detected in the sound, unintentionally colliding with Williams' stiffly starched trousers. The servant pressed a finger to his lips and lifted her into his arms. It was Mrs. O'Toole regaled her with a late night fairy tale.

  “Papa married Angelica and, immediately; regretted his decision.” She continued, the faraway look leaving her eyes.

  “Why?”

  Anne sighed, the long forgotten pain evident. “Prior to the wedding, Angelica made a great show of tolerating my existence. Papa was unaware of the whispered innuendos, about sending me away, and how she hated the very sight of me.”

  “I'm so sorry, Anne.” Kate supplied, at a loss for words.

  Anne frowned. “There's nothing to apologize for, Kate. Resiliency is a family trait.”

  “What happened?”

  “She attempted to assume control on the household, which Grandfather refused to grant. She made her dislike of my father apparent. It was a matter of time before her drunkenness and her parade of lovers became evident. For the longest time, she refused to consent to a divorce.”

  “Did your father divorce her?”

  “Eventually he did, sacrificing more than a pretty amount of the family fortune,” Anne admitted. “From what I gather, she revealed her true breeding and ran off with the gardener.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kate turned in her seat, lowering the radio's volume as they approached the great stone gates of the estate. Numerous trees lined the road, the bare branches depositing huge splashes of rainwater on the car as it crept up the rain soaked drive. Despite the passage of the last few months, she was astounded by the sheer expanse of the breathtaking vista. Colinwood Manor rose up out of the steadily pouring rain, blurred around the edges. The pale stone façade of the three-story building reflected the dark grays of the clouds above. The numerous windows peered expectantly down the drive, as if anxiously waiting for someone.

  “We'll have to make a dash for it.” Anne steere
d the car to the entryway, the rain increasing as she parked. Kate pulled a wry face and stepped from the car, grateful as the doors of the home opened. She laughed aloud as Anne, having retrieved her purchases, raced to the entryway.

  Laughing, droplets of water streaming pelting their faces, the pair reached the opened doorway. Anne's longer legs permitted her a definite advantage, her gazelle like stride gaining her access seconds before Kate. Anne's purchases fell haphazardly on the floor as she shook the dampness from her coat and hair.

  “Williams, you're an absolute dear!” Anne chortled, slipping out of her damp coat. Her back was turned to the servant as she handed him her coat, which fell to the floor. Kate stooped to retrieve the numerous bags scattered about, pausing at the girl's strangled gasp.

  “Shopping appears to have cured your ailments, moppet.” A familiarly deep voice drolly supplied, spying the numerous packages. “Have I any funds remaining in my current account?”

  Kate struggled to repress a smile at Anne's high-pitched squeal of pleasure. She rose and was a silent observer as the girl threw herself into her father's welcoming embrace, showering his face with a light kisses.

  “Shopping cures any ailment, Papa.” She provided between each adoring peck, her joy apparent. “Nor did I destroy your account.” She provided as an afterthought as Dante set her aside and ruffled her dark head into disarray. His bright eyes sparkled with indulgent parental adoration before he turned to Kate, a smile gracing his lips.

  Kate's heart leapt into her throat, nearly strangling her as she returned his smile with a small one of her own. She stood before him, uncertain until his smile widened.

  As he shut the door behind him, she ran her hand through her hair. Through lowered lids, she performed a slow perusal of his towering form. She noted the change in his attire before Anne commented on it and suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill outside.

  The comfort of worn and faded jeans replaced business suit he wore on a daily basis. The material fit snuggly over the well-defined length of his legs, making him appear far taller. There was a rippling display of muscle beneath his dark hued t-shirt, each well-honed contour displayed in a fashion never detected beneath the elegant folds of his work shirts. Kate felt a vibrant flush wash over her but was incapable of drawing her rapt attention away, the most intense sensation of lust filling her.