A Night of Forever

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Other Books by Lori Brighton

The Night Series:

A Night of Secrets (Book 1)

A Night of Redemption (Book 2: Coming Fall 2013!)

A Night of Forever (Free Short Story!)

The Seduction Series:

To Seduce an Earl (Book 1)

To Capture a Rake (Book 2)

To Please a Lady (Coming November 2013!)

Check out Lori’s bestselling Young Adult series
below!

The Mind Readers Series:

The Mind Readers (Book 1: Free!)

The Mind Thieves (Book 2)

The Mind Games (Book 3)

The Mind Keepers (Short Story coming Fall of
2013)

By

Cumberland, England 1859

Who was Aidan Callaghan?

The eternal question that constantly nagged at Mary
Ellen. Two months ago, her brother-in-law Grayson had announced
that a friend would be visiting the estate. Mary Ellen had expected
an elderly, titled gent who’d needed to borrow money from Grayson.
Perhaps a businessman wanting to invest in her brother-in-law’s
shipping company. Or perhaps even an obnoxiously demanding friend
from the war. She certainly hadn’t expected Aidan, a young man who
had slipped into their home quiet as a hawk, brooding and
mysterious as any hero from a gothic novel.

She sighed and rested her chin in the palm of her
hand. For an hour now she’d been reclining on a blanket hidden
behind a brittle patch of dying daisies, getting lost in her book.
Then
he
had arrived, reminding her exactly of why she’d
escaped the house. One moment the bench under the maple had been
empty. Five minutes later she’d looked up while turning a page and
there he was, reading his own novel.

She hadn’t dared to call out a greeting, or even
stand to leave. That would only draw attention and she’d rather
watch him unnoticed. Not that she studied him because she cared.
No. Of course not. Aidan was too… too boring. Too… too serious….
too quiet and much, much too much of a no one to pique her feminine
interests. Determined to be in charge of her life as much as she
could, she’d decided years ago she would only marry a man with a
cheerful disposition and, of course, deep pockets.

But she could admit, at least to herself, that Aidan
Callaghan intrigued her.

Where had he come from? Who was his family? Where
had he lived most of his life?

Other than Grayson, no one seemed to know the man.
And getting information from Grayson was like getting her niece
Hanna to eat cabbage… impossibly frustrating.

Still, she had heard some supposed facts. One, Aidan
was the second son of a Baron or some such lowly title. Two,
Grayson and Aidan had met during the war, at a battle or something
or another. Three, Aidan had apparently saved Grayson’s life. A
dashing story indeed. She might have believed the rumor, if the
man’s personality wasn’t so completely dull. He’d barely said a
string of words to her since arriving those months ago. He mostly
sat quietly in corners, merely watching their antics. And in a
household of four females there were plenty of antics.

A brown skirt suddenly swooshed before her, blocking
her view. “You’re always staring at him,” her younger sister Sally
stated, drawing a furious blush to her cheeks.

Mary Ellen resisted the urge to tug the younger girl
down, knowing it was too late, Aidan had already seen them. Her
hiding place had been uncovered. “Whatever do you mean?” Mary Ellen
pushed herself upright, feigning indifference. She hadn’t heard her
sister approach, for she’d been too involved in thinking about
Aidan. Really, the man was taking up much too much of her time
lately.

Sally plopped down beside her, the dress she wore
settling around her coltish legs like a deflated hot air balloon.
At fifteen she wasn’t quite an adult, although she seemed to think
she was. “That man…Aidan.”

Heat shot to Mary Ellen’s face. “Am not.” She lied,
of course, and pulled her shawl around her shoulders to hide her
guilt. Utterly sinful. But how could she admit the truth? And the
truth was thoughts of Aidan kept her up at night. When she met his
gaze, she felt it all the way to her toes. It was as if her corset
was suddenly too tight. Breathing became impossible.

“Are so always staring.” Sally leaned closer, her
blue eyes wide with interest. “Are you in love with him?”

“Sally!” Mary Ellen glanced around, making sure no
one had overheard. Her sister was at the prime age for romance. She
still believed in happily ever after, silly chit. “Don’t be a
ninny!”

Even as she reprimanded the young girl, she couldn’t
help but glance at Aidan. Sensing her attention, he lifted his
head. Their gazes clashed. It was as if a bolt of lightning shot
through her very being. Mary Ellen sucked in a sharp breath, but as
much as she wanted to, she couldn’t seem to look away. He hadn’t
heard their discussion. He was much too far away, so why did she
fear he had heard every word?

“Well, you are…” Sally’s voice trailed off into a
low murmur that Mary Ellen could barely hear over the roar of blood
to her ears.

Was he attractive? Yes, she supposed there was
something incredibly appealing about those fathomless light blue
eyes and dark wavy hair. The charming way he tilted his head to the
side when he was listening. The way he rubbed the back of his neck
when he was bemused. The way his eyes sparkled and the corners
crinkled when he was amused, even if his lips didn’t quite lift
into a smile. And she supposed most women would consider his
silence and mysterious past rather intriguing.

But not she. Not at all.

She wasn’t interested. He had no home. No title. And
as far as she could deduce by the cut of his plain clothing, he had
no money. She hadn’t plotted and planned for a season in London
only to marry some
nobody
before she’d had time to find a
somebody
. Only a handful of months left, and this spring
she’d be in the city, absorbing the
ton.
Searching for the
very man who would be her husband. Why then, couldn’t she blasted
look away from Aidan?

A cool gust of fall wind swirled through the garden,
bringing with the scent of decaying leaves and rich earth. Aidan
glanced down at his book, breaking eye contact. Mary Ellen could
finally breathe once more. She tore her attention away, wondering
what he read. Most likely something dull, such as farming
techniques.

“Well?” Sally was looking at her expectantly, her
large blue eyes full of mischief.

“Well, what?” Unable to take the pressure any
longer, Mary Ellen surged to her feet and started toward the house,
eager to escape the outdoors, escape Aidan’s piercing attention and
Sally’s ridiculous questions. But mostly, eager to escape her own
confusing reactions to the man.

“Well, will you ask him to dance at the All Hallows
Eve Ball?”

She clutched her shawl close. “Don’t be silly.” Mary
Ellen pushed the door wide and stepped into the warm kitchen. The
roar of conversation and orders being shouted vibrated in the
large, stone room. Gone was the quiet fall afternoon. “Women don’t
ask men to dance. Tisn’t proper.”

They weaved their way around a maid churning butter,
careful not to get anything on their skirts. In the air hung the
welcoming scents of nutmeg and cinnamon.

“Well, will you dance with him if he asks to sign
your card?” Sally stepped aside as a cook rushed by with a tray of
biscuits.

Mary Ellen snatched a warm pastry from the passing
woman. Would he ask her? Why did the thought send a warm shiver of
anticipation through her body?

“Oy!” The cook cried out, slapping her hand away
from the tray. “Out wit ye two!”

Sally and Mary Ellen flushed with guilt and moved
toward the door. The house practically buzzed with activity. The
ball would, no doubt, be an enormous success, especially given the
fact that balls rarely happened in their small shire. “I will have
to accept his invitation to dance, should he ask. It would be rude
to refuse, especially since he is Grayson’s friend.”

They moved into the foyer, the maids busy filling
vases with red roses from the greenhouse. Before Meg had married
Grayson, they never would have had flowers in the fall. Yet another
advantage of marrying wealthy, and yet something else she looked
forward to when she had a home of her own.

“And if he asks you to marry him?”

Mary Ellen rolled her eyes. “He won’t.”

“I’ve seen him watching you.”

Mary Ellen froze halfway up the curved staircase.
She should have been horrified. At the very least, offended.
Instead, she couldn’t deny the odd sense of excitement that
whispered through her. “No, he doesn’t.”

Sally nodded, completely serious. “Indeed. Often,
you know. He watches you when no one is looking.”

A heated rush of emotion swirled low in the pit of
her belly. She was pleased, damn it all. She didn’t want to be
pleased. She had a plan, a plan to marry a man with a title and
money, or at the very least, money. A man who smiled often and
laughed loudly. A man who never took life seriously. Her plan most
assuredly did not involve the poor and dour Aidan Callaghan.

“So, shall you agree to an engagement if he
asks?”

Mary Ellen steeled her resolve and continued up the
steps. “Not at all.”

“Why ever not? I’ve heard many a women in town
discuss him. He’s rather handsome and mysterious. They’re in a
twitter when he is near.”

Mary Ellen gritted her teeth, annoyed, although why,
she wasn’t sure. Did their neighbors have nothing better to do?
“No, I won’t because I’m going to marry someone wealthy and
titled.”

“Mary Ellen, what a snob you are!” Meg stood in the
middle of the hall, her belly swollen underneath her blue day
dress.

While most women were ill and sickly, her older
sister practically glowed with her pregnancy. In fact, she looked
better than she ever had. Her face was rosy, her brown hair
shimmered from the light coming in through the hall window, and her
blue eyes sparkled with a happiness that Mary Ellen would have
envied, had she not adored her. Standing next to Meg, Sally was her
miniature version. Mary Ellen was the odd one out with her
brilliant red hair.

Mary Ellen frowned. “Easy for you to say, Meg,
you’ve married the only handsome and wealthy man in the
vicinity.”

Her sister grinned, that all too familiar dreamy
look crossing her gaze, the same look she had whenever someone
mentioned Grayson. “Handsome, indeed.”

Mary Ellen crossed her arms, growing impatient. It
was bad sport indeed to brag about her accomplishments when there
were unmarried women in the vicinity.

Meg sighed, taking Mary Ellen’s hands in hers.
“Dear, you no longer have to worry about money. You know that.
Grayson would never see you suffer. You don’t have to marry for
wealth.”

Mary Ellen glanced at the carpet runner, her cheeks
flushing. “I know.”

The problem was she wanted to marry. She had always
desired a home of her own. A doting husband, darling children. But
she wouldn’t settle for a man with little to offer. No, she’d
already lived a life of poverty and she swore she was never
returning to that gray and depressing state.

Meg released her hands and smiled. “So, perhaps you
might possibly think of marrying for love?”