by Clare Murray
* * * * *
“Built in 1786,” Lady Montford said. She gestured proudly around the wood-paneled library. “Truly told, it is my favorite room of all.”
Marissa stared around, enchanted. She had never fallen in love with a place before, yet she was doing so now. Although there was the obvious lack of modern conveniences, she felt at home here. Nearly every room had a huge fireplace, with blankets and pillows piled high on all the beds she’d seen. The bathrooms were spacious and well-appointed for Victorian times, with clean running water. She’d even glimpsed a bathtub large enough for two people in the master bedroom—the room presumably belonging to Rhys.
“Thank you for the tour,” Marissa told Lady Montford, belatedly remembering her manners.
“My pleasure. Shall we descend and take our tea now?” Rhys’ mother gave her a brief smile. They had formed a bond of sorts over the past half-hour, talking about their shared Welsh history and finding several things in common.
“Could I have a moment to look at the books?” Although she was an avid reader, Marissa desperately wanted a few moments alone to compose herself. She needed to figure out what to do next.
As Lady Montford exited the room, Marissa sank down onto a window seat, staring pensively out at the grounds. Mist clung to the tops of the nearby hills and seeped down into the valley. Deep in her heart, she knew she would adore living here, but could she face playing second fiddle to another woman?
A quiet footstep at the door alerted her to someone else’s presence. She looked up to see Harriet.
“I hope your chat with Lady Montford went well?” Harriet asked.
“Yes. She seemed to warm to me.”
Harriet wiped her brow in an exaggerated show of relief. “Thank goodness for that. It will be easier for both of us if Society accepts you. Oh, that reminds me, did you have any money in your bag when you came to school?”
“Yes. I had fifty dollars in case I wanted a t-carriage back home.”
Harriet giggled. “Fifty dollars is quite a bit in these times. I had seventy on me when I entered the maze.”
“Wait a minute.” Marissa dove for her reticule. In all the excitement, she’d forgotten to see why it was heavier than normal. Her eyes rounded at the glint of metal. “Oh—it changed!”
“Naturally,” the professor said. Lowering her voice, she leaned in conspiratorially. “Even my bra changed.”
Marissa was too stunned to giggle. “This should be enough to see us living comfortably somewhere.” Somewhere preferably near Rhys.
“Or for a dowry,” Harriet said meaningfully. “Lady Montford was certainly impressed when I casually mentioned my wealth.”
Marissa remembered the wish she had made upon the silver spoon. She had asked to be somewhere where she belonged. But what about her friend?
“Oh Harriet—what will you do?” Marissa blurted. “I’m so sorry if I dragged you somewhere you didn’t want to be! I made a wish on that spoon you gave me.”
Harriet’s eyes widened. “Was that how we got here? I was wondering. Well, never you worry. I haven’t had so much fun in my entire life. Between you and me, I had a brief chat with that handsome blacksmith earlier. He wants to meet me later.”
“That’s wonderful news.”
“Whatever happens, we shall pull through,” Harriet said brightly.
Marissa summoned up a smile. “I hope so.”
“Are you sure you are feeling well?” The professor fixed her with a stern but sympathetic look. “Wouldn’t you like to come eat some breakfast?”
“I’m fine.” Marissa waved her friend away, cursing her astuteness. “Just…a little overwhelmed. I think I’ll take a walk outside. I don’t seem to have much of an appetite right now.”
Although Harriet protested, Marissa was eventually able to slip away. She had lied—she was actually quite hungry after barely eating anything yesterday. Yet she knew she couldn’t face seeing Rhys surrounded by all the other women—perhaps enjoying their attentions a little too much. She sighed, trying to dislodge the unbecoming jealousy.
Silently she padded down the stairs and slipped out a side door, making her way blindly across the vast lawns. Her feet seemed to move of their own volition, carrying her toward the maze. The hedges themselves were shrouded in mist, creating an eerie, otherworldly feeling.
Marissa had the odd feeling she could disappear at any moment. With great effort, she stopped just before entering the maze, her fingers brushing through the growing mist. Was this what she truly wanted?
Rhys excused himself from the table with an abruptness bordering on the rude. He had waited long enough for Marissa to appear and now he was determined to fetch her himself. His mother had said she was in the library, so he headed toward the stairs.
“Pardon me, my lord.”
With great effort, Rhys paused and turned to see who had addressed him. A short, graying woman gave him a quick smile. “Are you looking for Marissa? She told me she was going for a walk. I watched her go—she went that way, across the lawn. She left only a few minutes ago.”
Rhys thanked her, taking off at a dead run. Hatless and disheveled, he knew he looked unorthodox. In truth, he could hardly bring himself to care. He only wanted to catch Marissa—catch her and keep her. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket.
As he reached the edge of the lawn, he plunged into a mist so thick he could barely see his own feet. A sudden terror gripped him—where was she?
“Marissa!” he shouted, bounding toward the maze.
“Rhys?”
Relief flooded through him as he spotted her standing only a few paces from the maze’s entrance. Rushing forward, he took her into his arms, preventing her from stepping inside. In such a thick mist, she would have been hopelessly lost between the hedges, perhaps lost to him for all time.
He shivered at that thought. Suddenly his thoughts flashed back to that sunny day in Wales when he and his brothers had gone riding and dropped into the fortune-teller’s hut. Would he really be unhappy for the rest of his life if Marissa had disappeared? Had the old crone been telling him the truth after all?
Yet there was no denying the lust that surged through his veins. And, from her physical response, Marissa was feeling it too. Somehow, without conscious thought, he was kissing her, lifting her in his arms as the mist continued to swirl around them, hiding them from view.
Her dress unbuttoned easily, slipping down to reveal her rounded breasts, down still further until she was able to step completely out of it, the material sliding over her thighs tantalizingly until she stood naked in front of the low stone wall that surrounded the hedge maze, eyes glazed with passion. Rhys divested himself of his coat, draping it over the wall before he settled her atop it.
“I need you, cariad,” he said simply.
“I know,” she whispered. “I need you too.”
“Then stay. Stay with me. Stop running away.”
Her response was a gasp, then a low moan, as he parted her legs, pressing himself against her as she sat on the wall. Her long legs wrapped around his waist as he gathered her close.
Unlike last night, there was no pressing need to explore her, no gently flickering candlelight illuminating her, turning her golden. There was only the mist, their rising sense of urgency.
She was ready for him, so ready, and he had to fight to maintain control as he undid his breeches and plunged deep inside her. Although he was trying to take his time, her low cry of pleasure nearly undid him. She arched her back, pulling him closer, deeper.
His hands were everywhere, driving her into a frenzy even as he teased her by staying still within her. Only when she rocked her hips in a desperate need for release did he allow himself to thrust forward, giving in to her desire and, a scant second later, his own.
Marissa’s world narrowed to the sounds of ragged breathing, the feeling of his hands caressing her sensitized skin. Her release had been beyond any semblance of control, catapulting her into a world of explodin
g lights and colors.
She rested her head against his shoulder, marveling at the sensations he had created within her, the aftershocks rippling through her. Rhys had said he’d needed her. Did he? Slowly she raised her head, met his passion-hazed eyes.
“Did you mean it when you asked me to stay?”
“I meant every word, cariad.”
Marissa took a deep breath, dreading her next words. But she wanted to make sure Rhys knew what she needed.
“I cannot be your mistress. I—I love you, Rhys. I do not think I could idly stand by and let you be with another woman.” Damn it, her eyes were filling with tears. She tried to blink them away, chagrined at the look on his face as he raised a hand to stroke her cheek.
Then he was going down on one knee, heedless of the mist that continued to swirl around his face.
“I love you too, Marissa Blythe. Will you marry me?”
For a moment, stunned silence reigned. Then, “Yes,” she whispered. “I would be honored to.”
Very carefully, Rhys slipped a platinum band over her finger. She stared down at it, enchanted by the large rubies adorning the ring.
“It might be difficult for an American to adapt to life here,” Rhys warned.
“I am prepared for that challenge.” Her eyes glittered as he rose to his feet. She did feel a strong sense of belonging at Montford Hall with Rhys. She knew being a baroness would have its trials, but somehow, she looked forward to them. Life was suddenly filled with zest again.
Marissa grinned up at Rhys, who was still solemn. “Yes, I am certainly prepared for the challenge. Besides, I think your mother wants grandchildren. She dropped at least three hints as she showed me around.”
Rhys threw his head back and laughed, the tension of the moment dissipating. “Did she? Well, imagine being subject to those little comments for five years!”
Marissa felt a wicked little grin steal across her face. “Then how about we go inside and get started?”
“Again? Don’t tempt me, cariad. I might just take you up on that.”
They walked hand in hand up the hill, the mist thinning before them.
About Clare Murray
Clare Murray was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, living aboard a boat with her parents until the age of three. She has a degree in Journalism and has worked in libraries in both California and London. In 2006 she moved to England, where she now lives happily with her husband and two children.
Clare welcomes comments from readers. You can find her email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Lucky Silver
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Lucky Silver Copyright © 2014 Clare Murray
Edited by Raelene Gorlinsky
Cover design by Allyse Leodra
Cover photography by k14_hhistoricalwoman
Electronic book publication May 2014
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