Divine (House of Oak Book 2)

by Nichole Van

  “Pardon? Sebastian, let me repeat one more time. There is not going to be a marriage between us. After all my refusals and protestations, why do you keep hoping this will happen?”

  He flinched at those words, something close to pain flickering in his eyes.

  “Give over, Georgie. Am I so abhorrent you cannot stomach the thought of being with me? That you feel the need to make up absurd stories and a fictional betrothed to keep me at a distance?” With a deep breath, he ran a drained hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose again.

  “No—Seb, that is not it at all. I am telling you the truth—”

  “You would be a countess, married to a man who will do everything to ensure your happiness—”

  “How can you know what will bring me happiness? I am a grown woman, not the thirteen-year-old girl you knew!”

  He raised his head and fixed her with such a . . . look.

  Fierce and intense.

  “Yes . . . well, life changes us all, Georgiana. I am not that sixteen-year-old boy. Consider me a battle-toughened soldier. One who has endured a decade of life without you and, yet, still fights on.”

  Her old friend vanished. Utterly gone.

  And in his place was this man of power. An earl. A man who had commanded troops in the army. A man who sat in the House of Lords and oversaw thousands of servants and tenants.

  She stilled, her throat tight.

  He reached out a hand and brushed a stray curl off her cheek, his fingers grazing her face.

  His touch scalded. Robbed her of breath.

  Georgiana felt the axis of her world tilt. He was so much the same and yet so different.

  So strong, so sure. Dangerous.

  Thrilling.

  That last thought terrified. Not the good kind of terrified that tingled her spine and made her giggle.

  Terrified terrified.

  Because he couldn’t be this man.

  One who made her feel tingly. Hitched her breath.

  Sent bubbles floating through her blood.

  He was . . . Just. Sebastian.

  Nothing more . . . right?

  Because if she felt like this about Sebastian, then life suddenly became much more complicated with worrisome, difficult decisions. Feelings which could lead to having her heart split across centuries.

  Something she promised she would not do.

  A dreadfully possible impossibility.

  They stared at each other for a long minute, breath sounding loudly. His dark eyes liquid, fathomless. Consuming.

  A glimpse into his soul.

  She was surprised to find it a cluttered place. Full of contradictions and darkness and pain she didn’t understand.

  She felt like she was surveying him for the first time.

  Truly seeing him.

  And what she saw . . . well . . . was beautiful. It was that simple.

  He was gorgeous.

  All of him.

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  How would his kiss feel? To have the breadth of those large shoulders surround her and hold her close?

  To know tangibly he breathed only for her?

  Her breath snagged.

  His gaze had turned ferocious, consuming. The dark man who trapped her in moonlit rooms.

  Unbidden, she drifted toward him. Closed the remaining space between them.

  “Georgiana?” he whispered as her skirts swept against his legs.

  His hand brushed her elbow, searing through the layers of fabric, and then wrapped around her waist, drawing her nearer still. Swallowing her up in his arms.

  She placed a hand on his chest. Slowly rose onto tiptoes, eyes fluttering closed.

  She could feel his breath on her cheek.

  On her lips.

  So close.

  So impossibly close . . .

  “Yoohoo! Lord Stratton!”

  A bright chipper voice broke through the surrounding forest. Followed by the yipping of a small dog.

  Shattering the silence.

  Startled, Georgiana jumped back, her chest heaving, eyes saucer-wide.

  Sebastian swore and glanced toward the sound.

  “Blast! That impossible woman—I cannot endure—”

  “Go.” Georgiana grabbed his hat and gloves off of the wall and pushed him toward the cottage. “I’ll deal with her.”

  He stared at her for one more moment, eyes drifting down to her mouth, his chest rising as quickly as hers.

  She shoved his hat into his chest and made a shooing motion with her hands.

  “Go!”

  Chapter 14

  Lady Ambrosia burst from the trees along the lane, a billow of pale-green low-cut muslin, golden hair peeking out from underneath her bonnet. Mr. Snickers wiggled in her arms, his matching green knitted shirt bunching around his neck.

  Georgiana folded her hands at her waist and tried to slow her pounding heart as Lady Ambrosia drew near.

  Had that really almost happened?

  She would probably still be kissing Sebastian without Lady Ambrosia’s timely interference.

  Or was it not-so-timely?

  She couldn’t decide.

  Kissing Sebastian . . .

  His powerful arms around her, the racing pulse of his heart under her hand. So warm, so safe. She swallowed and tried to clear her brain.

  She had a boyfriend. Did that count for nothing? Was she really the kind of woman who would commit herself to one man and then kiss another?

  With an inward sigh, she recognized she very well might be.

  What did that say about her? What did that say about her commitment to Shatner?

  She was an awful person.

  Part of her wanted to march into Duir Cottage, through the portal and leave this confusing mess of emotions behind.

  Of course, the other part of her wanted to send Lady Ambrosia on her way and pick up with Sebastian where they had left off.

  Dratted man was too handsome and charming for his own good.

  Gah! She needed to stop!

  This was Sebastian, her friend.

  Even if she was the sort to kiss around, Sebastian deserved better than to be so trifled with.

  She fixed a weak smile on her face.

  “Well met, Miss Knight,” Lady Ambrosia said, stopping in front of her and then glancing around. “Heavens! I thought I saw Lord Stratton with you too. I had a most important question to ask him.”

  “As you can see, I am currently quite alone.” Georgiana kept her expression vague and unassuming.

  Lady Ambrosia brought her gaze back to Georgiana and pursed her lips, studying her.

  “What is your game, Miss Knight?” she asked.

  Georgiana’s eyebrows inched upward.

  “Game, my lady? I cannot say I have any game—”

  “Come now, there is no need to be coy with me. You have Lord Stratton panting after you, and yet you continue to keep him at arm’s length. It is a dangerous dance you play.”

  “Truly, I do not understand your meaning, Lady Ambrosia. Lord Stratton is merely an old friend.” Georgiana pasted on her most vapid look.

  Lady Ambrosia’s eyes narrowed.

  “I wonder very much if I haven’t been mistaken about you, Miss Knight,” she said after a minute.

  A beat of silence.

  Lifting her head and studying the gray clouds, Lady Ambrosia continued, “I fear a storm. I thought perhaps I heard thunder and saw the threat of lightning earlier.”

  Georgiana stared at her, a sudden suspicion forming. “Indeed,” she replied. “Perhaps a lightning bolt will strike us, much as the eagle’s cry . . .”

  Georgiana paused, watching Lady Ambrosia’s expression pale as the words sunk in.

  Bullseye.

  It seemed she had found the original ‘helper’ sent by Lord Zeus.

  Lady Ambrosia’s jaw tightened. The woman did have some pluck.

  “Lord Stratton is my task, not yours,” Lady Ambrosia lifted her chin.

&n
bsp; “Perhaps.” Georgiana coolly nodded her head.

  Silence hung for a moment, stretching the tension.

  “But is it perhaps possible Lord Zeus has become disillusioned with your abilities?” Georgiana asked.

  Lady Ambrosia sucked in a hissing breath. It had been strictly a guess on Georgiana’s part, but an accurate one, it seemed.

  Lady Ambrosia licked her lips nervously, glancing about.

  “What has he said about me? Please, you must tell me.”

  The poor woman was suddenly terrified. Even little Mr. Snickers trembled in his green sweater.

  Was Lord Zeus as scary as all that?

  Georgiana smoothed her face, not wanting to reveal anything.

  “Unfortunately, I cannot say, Lady Ambrosia. As you well know, Lord Zeus does not countenance those who break his confidences.”

  “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” Lady Ambrosia murmured, lifting Mr. Snickers and burying her distress in his neck.

  The woman’s anxiety was so real. Georgiana felt a twinge of something that smacked suspiciously of guilt.

  She hadn’t meant to upset her. “Come now, there is no need to worry so.”

  Lady Ambrosia lifted her head, her eyes filled with horror.

  “Worry? I am hardly worried, Miss Knight. I am terrified. You know what he is capable of. We could both so easily end up like that unfortunate Miss Franklin, tossed off a castle wall. Lord Zeus does not tolerate failure of any sort.”

  Georgiana blinked. The conversation had suddenly gone to a dark place.

  Kill them?

  “I had so hoped my artistic skills would continue to be of use to Lord Zeus, just as Miss Franklin’s were. She only ran into trouble when she refused to help him any more. Oh dear, what are we ever to do?” Lady Ambrosia cuddled Mr. Snickers even tighter.

  “Must something be done?”

  Lady Ambrosia grabbed her arm.

  “Of course! You musn’t fail us, Miss Knight. You must stop Lord Stratton from marrying. Please. My life . . . your life depends upon it.”

  Sebastian peered surreptitiously out the front window of Duir Cottage. Lady Ambrosia was still talking with Georgiana, clinging to her arm.

  How long would Lady Ambrosia keep her?

  Georgiana shook her head and replied to some question.

  Stepping back from the window, he began to pace the floor of the front parlor.

  Lovely Georgiana. Dearest, sweetest Georgiana. So close! It had been so close.

  And she had come to him. At last.

  He had seen the change in her, the instant he had touched her petal soft cheek. Her eyes had narrowed, focused. As if finally truly seeing him.

  His blood had shouted hosannas through his veins.

  And then her eyes dropping to stare at his lips until he thought he would go mad.

  He could still see her, closing the distance between them, placing her hand firmly on his lapels, the rise of her body against his chest as she stretched on tiptoe to meet his mouth . . .

  And then that woman had to appear.

  Blast!

  Would he ever get the moment back?

  He paused in front of the small fireplace, placing a hand on the mantle, staring sightlessly at the barren grate.

  And what about that ridiculous nonsense with Lord Zeus? He needed to get her away from here, if only to protect her. He made a mental note to send a Runner to inquire after Lord Zeus.

  How much wasn’t she telling him?

  “Georgiana!” A voice shouted.

  A man’s voice—muffled and yet distinct.

  Puzzled, Sebastian cocked his head. The sound seemed to be coming from the back of the house. Was Knight calling his sister?

  Sebastian walked down the central hallway with its L-shaped staircase and through a door into the kitchen and scullery. An enormous fireplace dominated the left of the room. He peered through the back door but could see nothing.

  “Georgiana!” The voice called again, this time accompanied by the sound of knocking. However, the voice had moved and now came from the front of the cottage. Had someone walked around the house?

  He moved back out into the hallway and into the front parlor. Pushing apart the curtains, he could still see Lady Ambrosia gesturing to Georgiana. Neither of them had moved.

  “Georgiana!” Again, coming from the back of the house.

  What—?!

  What was going on? Was he hearing things now too?

  He walked down the hallway, stopping midway.

  Waited for a moment.

  “Georgiana Knight, so help me!” The words were muffled but still clear.

  And coming from neither the front nor back of the house, but a closet under the stairs.

  Again, he heard the knocking.

  That was . . . odd.

  Was Georgiana now keeping prisoners? Was that part of what she hadn’t told him?

  Sebastian resisted the urge to roll his eyes skyward, pleading for patience.

  He wouldn’t put it past her.

  Opening the door, he peered inside. It was a typical closet, full of linens and bottles.

  The pounding seemed to be coming from underneath the floor. Pushing aside a basket of sheets, he noticed a trapdoor leading, most likely, to a cellar.

  “Hello? Anyone there?” he called.

  Nothing.

  But the pounding continued. Faint, as if far away.

  But definitely coming from the floor.

  How could that be?

  Sebastian pushed more baskets out of the way and wrested the trap door open. A simple staircase descended into the gloom.

  “Hello?” he called again.

  Nothing.

  Or was there nothing?

  Squinting into the darkness, something faintly flickered.

  Carefully, he descended the stairs, his boots hitting packed dirt. From what he could see, the cellar was small, only a couple paces wide with a ceiling so low he had to duck his head.

  Blinking, he tried to focus on the barely-there light. It was only just discernible but seemed to be coming from the wall directly ahead.

  A certain heaviness settled on him. The air felt weighty. Charged.

  Odd.

  Frowning, he took a step and then another. Something seemed to tug him forward. The room suddenly went darker, and vertigo swamped him. He felt like he was falling, falling, falling.

  Gasping, Sebastian reached out a hand, managing after a second to brace himself on the side wall.

  Shaking his head, he stood for a few seconds, gulping in deep breaths, trying to clear the dizziness.

  What had happened there?

  “Georgiana!” the voice called again. This time much nearer. Clearer.

  And coming from upstairs.

  How—?!

  Thoroughly confused, Sebastian turned and walked back up the stairs and into the hallway, his head still spinning.

  Everything felt a little off-kilter. Like the world had tilted on its axis.

  Disconcerting.

  Someone was pounding on the front door.

  “Georgiana! Open this door! I know you’re home. Your damn car is in the driveway!”

  The solid oak door trembled, fists buffeting it.

  Pausing, Sebastian stared.

  A short bar secured the upper part of the door. Had the bolt been there before?

  Rattled, he drew it back and opened the door.

  To a different world.

  A man stood on the stoop. Medium height and lean, dark brown hair hanging over his ears, face stubbled as if it hadn’t seen a razor all week. Gray eyes snapping in anger.

  They stared at each other for the space of a heartbeat. The warrior in Sebastian immediately bristled.

  “Who the bloody hell are you?” the man asked after a moment. “Where’s Georgiana?”

  It was impossibly rude.

  The man’s accent indicated he was a gentleman. His clothing, however, defied categorization.

  He was wearing some
kind of dark blue pantaloons with a simple white shirt without buttons and a tight-fitting short brown leather jacket. And were those dark spectacles resting atop his head?

  Donning his authoritarian face—the one which had sent enlisted men running in the army and servants scurrying to do an earl’s bidding—Sebastian ruthlessly surveyed the insolent man, letting his gaze wander slowly from head to toe.

  “May I help you?” Sebastian asked in quelling tones.

  With a cocky lift of his eyebrows, the man returned the arrogant perusal in full measure. And then gave a deliberate, mocking smile.

  “You must be one of Georgiana’s Bosom Companion friends. Nice.” He gestured toward Sebastian’s coat. Sebastian resisted the urge to smooth his waistcoat and straighten his jacket.

  Instead, he asked, “And you are?”

  “Her boyfriend.” The man stared at him, cool and collected.

  Boyfriend? The word made no sense.

  Allowing his lip to curl slightly, Sebastian gave the man his most haughty nod.

  “Indeed. The Right Honorable Sebastian Carew, Earl of Stratton, at your service.” He paused allowing his title to sink in. What was the point of being an earl if one couldn’t occasionally fling it about?

  Instead of being properly cowed, the man guffawed and rolled his eyes.

  “Ooooh, pardon me, your lordship,”—he waved his hands to his side, as if astounded—“but I’m here to see Georgiana.”

  He moved to step around Sebastian.

  Without thinking, Sebastian blocked his path.

  “Miss Knight is not at home,” he said icily.

  “Miss Knight?” The man laughed, as if Georgiana’s name were a great joke. “Seriously, you need to get with reality. I swear all this reenactment stuff goes to the head.”

  Sebastian wanted to haul him up by his scruffy jacket and shake him.

  No, that wasn’t true.

  He wanted to beat him to a pulp.

  He settled, instead, for jabbing a hostile finger into the man’s chest, forcing him back.

  “You, sirrah, will take yourself off. As I have said, Miss Knight is not at home and—”

  “Georgiana!” the man said in relief, looking over Sebastian’s shoulder.

  Sebastian swiveled to see Georgiana herself standing behind him, a strained smile pasted on her face. She looked at Sebastian and then at the man on the stoop, giving a nervous laugh.