“Oh Milford…” Isabelle shook her head and stood. She walked over and hugged him. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear and then pulled away and walked back to take her seat beside Grayson once more.
Sebastian raked his hands over his face and let out a throaty gust of air. He was angry, horrified, and saddened so deeply by the injustice done by this man. The same man he thought was his father until… He jerked his head around and looked at Isabelle. If she was his mother…was Clive his father? No! That could not be…could it? He felt sick. He looked over at Isabelle, his anguish etched on his face.
“Sebastian?” Isabelle called out, shaking her head in denial. “Clive is not your father.”
Sebastian shoved his hands in his hair, relief flooding his body as he bent slightly, “Oh, Thank God!” He stood again and pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to erase the horrible visions imbedded in it. He walked over and grabbed a decanter, the heavy crystal familiar in his hands. He paused, looking into the dark liquid swirling in the bottom. He poured a glass and tossed it back, then set the glass down. He kept his back to the room as he spoke the words that were haunting him. “Isabelle, if you are my mother, then why in the hell did you want me to marry my first cousin?” he asked incredulously, feeling sicker by the moment.
Isabelle’s face fell. “Oh no, that was not my intent. Clive is not my true brother, at least not by blood.”
Sebastian’s spine went rigid as he turned towards Isabelle. “What in the hell are you talking about now?” he demanded.
“Sebastian, please…it is too much, I can not…,” her voice broke off as she wrapped her arms around her stomach.
“Well, I have nothing but time. Do tell, Mother,” he scathed out.
Isabelle wrung her hands together, looking towards Sebastian and then back to Grayson, wondering if the small bit of happiness she so recently found would be gone if she told the truth of it all. Still, she owed her son an explanation.
Isabelle relayed a long twisted tale, baring her soul to her son. She recounted that Clive was a bastard and not her blood brother. She told Sebastian how her own mother never even slept with her supposed father for he was too busy bedding the maids, whereas her mother was too busy sleeping with most of the Ton. It was not a love match…purely a joining of two houses that so often happened among the titled aristocracy.
I pressed back deeper into the cushion of the chair, making myself as small as possible. I couldn’t help wondering what Sebastian must be feeling to hear how his own mother pretended to be his aunt, instead of claiming him for her own. Of course, Isabelle had said she did this for Sebastian so Clive would claim him as his own heir and therefore he, Sebastian, would inherit Ravenhurst and all of its entailments.
“Who in the hell is my father then?” Sebastian gaped at Isabelle.
Isabelle closed her eyes and then took a deep breath. “I am afraid I do not really know.” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I was very young.”
“And apparently very busy,” he scoffed. “Are you kidding me with this?” He shoved his hands into his hair. “Then this place, this home you have shoved down my throat, is actually Marguerite’s heritage?” He widened his eyes at her when she gave him no response, which was all the clarification he needed. “Well, isn’t that just perfect,” he said and then laughed. It was a brittle sound.
“This is your home, Sebastian. It always has been. Although Clive was not your real father, he recognized you as his rightful heir. Clive and I had a deal. This place and all of its entailments belong to you.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand to encompass the room. “Marrying Marguerite was a bonus. She would have her rightful place as mistress of Ravenhurst and you would have a lovely bride. I saw it as a win-win situation.”
“So you made a deal with a monster?” he asked, appalled. “Wonderful, perfect, that is what every son wants to hear his mother confess,” he added in a sickened voice. He felt bereft, disgusted.
“I did it for you Sebastian,” she cried out as tears rolled down her face once more.
“Well thank you Isabelle, for thinking of me,” he said with all the disdain he felt before he turned away.
Devlin watched Isabelle flinch as though she had been struck. He felt for Sebastian, he really did. He knew what it was like not to know who your father really was. To be told he would someday come for you and never to have it realized. And as much as Devlin hated to admit it, he knew they both had a lot in common. They were kindred spirits. That insight made Devlin shudder.
Sebastian ran his hand over his face. He looked at Katherine and shook his head. It was too much to process. He walked over and poured another drink. He downed it in a single gulp. He needed to think. He needed to get away and process all that had happened. Without thinking, he grabbed another bottle and walked briskly from the room. He did not bother to look at a single person as he made his exit.
I leaned forward in the chair and watched Sebastian stalk away, out of the room, maybe out of my life. I could see and feel the pain he felt, maybe not as profoundly as he felt it, but I could still sympathize. I tried to get him to see I was on his side, but his face was a mask. He shut down. It was as if he closed a door. I could no longer see anything I recognized. What was I going to do? He walked out without even looking at me. Of course, I could understand, but it still hurt. I wanted to help him, but had no idea how to do it. I could not even help some poor knight. I breathed out a sigh of defeat.
“He just needs a bit of time alone, you know,” Devlin said casually, breaking into my reverie.
I turned towards the settee. Devlin’s face was disturbingly pale and again he looked like a lost soul. There was a lingering sadness in his eyes but something else as well…was that pity—for Sebastian? “You think so?” I asked finally.
“Yes, I do. He has a lot to process. I am finding Sebastian and I have much in common these days, and not only our taste in women.”
I rolled my eyes. “You could not do it, could you?”
“What?” he asked, and widened his eyes innocently.
“Can you be nice?”
“Of course I can be nice…to you,” he added with a sweet smile.
I gave him a dubious look and then stood. “Would you like a drink?” I asked over my shoulder as I headed over to the sideboard.
“Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you,” he called out.
I lifted the decanter to pour two glasses of scotch. I needed something to settle my nerves; stifle my grief for Sebastian’s predicament. The dark liquid swirled in the bottom and I took a long drink. It didn’t burn at all this time.
PAYING RESPECT
RAVENHURST CEMETERY
THE late afternoon sun’s rays broke through the clouds, sending streaks of light streaming down on the group assembled on the snow-covered hilltop.
We were paying our respects to the woman who had passed into the hereafter-just hours before. Isabelle was sobbing. She tried to say a few heartfelt words, but the frigid winds of the north tore them away and scattered them across the burnished horizon.
I yanked on my cloak and pulled it more snugly around my body as the wind tried to rip it away and steal my breath at the same time. I was standing a few feet away from Sebastian, his greatcoat thrashed back and forth in the wind. His rugged profile reflected the somberness of everyone in our little group.
Ravenhurst was a beacon and cast ominous shadows upon us all from behind, a constant reminder of the mistake made so long ago. I shivered as coldness spread inside of me. Time was running out, and still, I had no idea what to do. I was utterly helpless.
BEFORE THE STORM
RAVENHURST
ONCE the short service was over, everyone went their separate ways. Sebastian still had not spoken to me, and by the look on his face, I doubted he would anytime soon. The length of my gown was wet from the snow outside. Lifting the bottom, I walked slowly back to my borrowed room. I took a breath and opened the door; it bumped against the wall a
nd creaked on its hinges.
The room was chilly, or it could have been that I was merely chilled from the events of the day. Still, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling being in the room and went to check behind the curtains. I even bent down to look under the bed. When I straightened, the little ugly cherubs ganged up on the bed seemed to be taunting me with their little fat faces.
“Stop staring at me!”
I shook my head. Maybe I was losing it after all. I had even resorted to talking to the gargoyles and fat-bellied cherubs, which was absolutely ridiculous. Still, I felt like I needed someone to unload my own problems on…it was better than carrying them with me everywhere I went.
I wished I knew where Sebastian was, I felt like he might need someone to talk to as well. Sighing, I walked to the bureau, and riffled through the drawers to find clean undergarments and a gown. Instead of seeking him out, I decided to take a bath and give him some time to sort his feelings out. Besides, I needed time to mull over her own future, or lack thereof.
How could I put the legend to rest when I had no idea what the legend was about? How did Grayson and Devlin know of the legend? Was there a connection? And what of the woman selling her wares? Were these all coincidences? There were a few too many, if you asked me, and what of the striking resemblance between Marguerite and myself? Good Lord, even Victoria looked similar.
That, of course, made sense where Marguerite was concerned, because she was her mother, but where did I fit into all this?
“It must be the amulet…wait…Key?” Was that it? Was it that simple? Did I need a key to unlock the door below? Was that where I would find my answers, behind a massive door? Where was the key?
God, I did not want to go back into that pit, either. Visions of Marguerite in horrible places flitted through my mind and I rubbed my forehead. My head hurt…my body wanted to see Sebastian and my mind wanted answers to all the questions. Each was at war with the other. How could I change so many lives? How could I be responsible for the outcome? I finally gave up trying to figure out everything at once and went to take a bath.
After the bath was drawn, I climbed in and stayed there, letting the warm water soothe my aching muscles as my mind wandered, bouncing the riddles through it, mixing, matching, trying to make sense of it all.
Find the door ~ the key is found
~Unlock the door ~ time will be bound
~Locked within for all time ~may no other be allowed peace of mind…a third to lock it once more?
Marguerite was the first, and then she showed up, making it two… Who is the third? How did Marguerite make it to the future? Did she have something to do with it? Is bound the same as bouncing through time? Hurdle…Jump—where was a thesaurus when you needed it? Maybe the words meant something different in this era.
I was getting nowhere fast. I climbed from the now-cool bath. I decided I had to talk to Milford again. He must have some answers. Perhaps I should ask Devlin again about the woman on the street. Of course, if Sebastian caught me speaking with him, he would surely get the wrong idea and I didn’t want to be responsible for causing any more distress in his life.
Not having any answers readily available, I dressed in another one of Marguerite’s childlike gowns. It was all ruffles and lace. Delicate embroidery accented the edges. I felt foolish and tossed on a robe to cover the gown. Grabbing the brush, I sat down in front of the fire and brushed my hair out.
A gust of cool air drifted across my body and the flames in the hearth shifted to the side. I shivered, not from fear, but awareness instead. Slowly, I turned. Sebastian was standing in the doorway.
He pulled the door closed. His footsteps made only the slightest noise on the carpet as he walked across the room. He sat down on the chair and picked up the brush. Slowly, methodically he began to brush my hair.
I closed my eyes. Up and down, up and down, the brush slid through my hair. I tingled from head to toe and my heart thumped wildly in my chest as he continued his silent assault on my senses until I could not stand it a moment longer, and then the brush stilled.
Turning, I looked up into his haunted eyes. There was so much pain and sadness in them. I wanted to take away his hurt. I wanted to make him forget everything that was causing him to look that way. I turned around between his muscular thighs and climbed up on my knees.
Blankly he stared down at me.
Taking a breath, I lifted my hand to his face and ran my fingers over the crease between his brows. He closed his eyes. Leaning forward, I kissed each closed lid, each brow, trying in my own way to absorb his pain. He didn’t move, not a muscle and reminded me of one of the many statues scattered throughout the vast halls of Ravenhurst. The firelight sent shadows across his exposed chest. I slipped my hand down inside of his shirt. His skin was hot to the touch, and smooth. Exploring, I lowered my hand. Inch by inch, my hand lowered until I reached the top of his pants.
His breath hitched in his throat and he opened his eyes. Moving closer, his lips hovered inches above my own but he did not touch them.
“What do you want?” his voice came out as a whisper as his warm breath wafted across my already heated face.
“I want…you…to kiss me,” I blurted.
“Hmmm…” His brow hitched up a notch. “I will see what I can do about that.” He lowered his mouth. Eluding me, tempting me, he slowly dragged his tongue lightly across my lower lip.
I tried to move closer. He pulled back to look at me. His stormy, gray eyes smoldered just beneath the surface. “I am not playing this time,” he said brusquely. “Do you understand what I am saying?”
I nodded, unable to speak. When he lifted my robe from my shoulders, I did not object. His fingers glided gently across my skin and left a fiery trail where he touched it.
Sebastian undid each button of my gown and pushed the fabric over my shoulders. The gown slid down my body and caught on my hips. His fingers slid underneath material and he pushed it all the way to the floor.
Cool air, sent shivers over my heated bare skin. I was not embarrassed or afraid. I was beyond caring.
Reaching down, Sebastian undid the remaining few buttons from his shirt and shrugged out of the fabric.
I couldn’t help but stare at his magnificent chest. It was bare except for that slightest hint of hair that trailed down in a line and disappeared into his trousers. To me, he was absolute perfection. Nervously, I ran my hands over the sleek skin. His muscles bunched under my fingertips. As I unbuttoned his pants, my fingers trembled above his rigid erection outlined very apparently under the fabric.
“Stand up,” he instructed.
I stood up and my body was completely exposed to his lingering stare. Smoldering passion filled the depths of his stormy gray eyes. Lifting his hand, he caressed my breast with the tips of his fingers and shivers of pleasure shot through me as my nipple puckered in response. He leaned forward and closed his mouth over it, sucking the delicate skin as his other hand slid over my butt. He gently squeezed and then he delved down between my thighs where I was burning to be touched.
“My God, you are so beautiful,” he breathed and slid his hand up until his fingers barely touched the soft curls between my thighs.
Breathing heavily, I reached down and unfastened the last button on his pants, releasing him fully. His length was hard against my hand, throbbing. I dragged my fingers lightly across the tip.
He groaned and roughly yanked me forward. After that, everything was a blur. My body reacted before my mind could think a thought. Twining my fingers in his hair, I cradled his head as he kissed my breasts. “Oh God,” I cried out when his mouth closed around my nipple once more. I had no idea where my propriety and modesty had gone. In their place was a woman burning with desire that I never even knew existed.
Pressing me back to the floor, he laid me down on top of my robe. Standing, he removed the rest of his clothing and his magnificent body glistened in the firelight. He kneeled and as he came down on top of me, his long hair fell forward
as he seized my mouth with his own.
Any trepidation I had vanished completely. I pulled him closer and his muscles flinched under my hands. His erection rubbed against my belly as he kissed me hungrily. He wet his finger. Reaching down, he slid it inside of me.
“So sweet,” he breathed and covered my gasp as he kissed me and increased the pressure. As he delved deeper with his tongue, his finger slid further, moving faster. In and out, in and out, he tantalized and tormented me and I writhed in response.
“I can not wait,” he murmured.
“It is all right.”
He leaned down and kissed me deeper, hungrily and then he pulled his hand from between my legs and in one swift thrust, he filled me completely.
“You feel so damn good,” he murmured. He was beyond himself, beyond feeling the pain that was crushing him earlier. He was slipping away into something else. Desire ruled him as he slid into her again, harder this time. All thought fled his mind, leaving only feelings. He grabbed her hips and lifted her legs around his waist more securely, lifting her higher in the air, leaning back on his knees. All the hurt and anger rang out as he pumped wildly into her pliable, willing body.
I knew I should be feeling at least a little pain, but there really was none. I only felt his need for me, his desire, and frustration. I held onto him as he lowered me back to the floor and repositioned himself above me. Lifting my hands, I slid them through his sweat-dampened hair, as I stared up into his stormy, gray eyes, I tried to take every bit of hurt from him and make him feel the love I felt for him instead.
A Knight Such as This: Enhanced with Interactive Content: (Time Travel Romance) Book 1 & 2 (Ravenhurst Series) Page 29