A Night of Forever (6 page)

Read A Night of Forever Online

Authors: Lori Brighton

Tags: #romance, #paranormal, #historical

BOOK: A Night of Forever
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“I’m not a child. I’ll do quite well on my own.”

“Of course.” His tone and features spoke only of
sincerity, yet there was a definite sparkle to his light blue eyes.
After yesterday’s wolf attack, he most likely thought of her as a
typical weak-kneed female. Anyone would have been shocked to see a
wolf, let alone be attacked by one. But not Aidan. No, he’d reacted
immediately, almost as if he’d expected the animal to appear. A man
always in control.

Just what she needed. A nanny. A completely
inappropriate governess who made her think sinful thoughts. She
turned, her skirts flaring wide and weaved her way through the
crowds. Lawd, had more people arrived? Surely they hadn’t invited
this many. The cool night air beckoned from the French doors,
thrown wide to allow guests to come and go as they pleased.

She’d ignore him. Truly, it was the best course of
action. After all, he’d ignored her all last night after their
attack. The heels of her slippers whispered against the slate stone
patio, thumping in time to her heart beat. Did he follow? She
wouldn’t dare glance back, he might see it as an invitation to join
her. She would merely pray that he had found Elizabeth. No, she
didn’t hate him that much.

Outside wasn’t much better. Many guests had escaped
the stuffy indoors and were enjoying the festive night air. In the
darkness, guests could indulge in their sinful side, hidden amongst
the shadows. Perhaps an All Hallows Eve festival had been a bad
idea after all. People would use any reason to indulge and a pagan
festival was the perfect excuse.

Frowning, Mary Ellen moved across the patio and
leaned her elbows on the marble railing. A large fire burned
brightly in the middle of the lawn. Couples laughed and danced
around the flickering flames, doing things they wouldn’t dare in
the light of day. There was no denying that the festive mood was
much more raucous than normal. At the beginning of the festival,
Meg had warned her to stay inside where she’d be protected. But Meg
had abandoned her, leaving Mary Ellen in Aidan’s sensual hands.
Wasn’t being out here better than being inside with him?

Blast it all, she’d needed air. She’d needed space.
Yet, now, she wasn’t so sure. Above, stars twinkled, a full moon
shone brightly overhead, casting the area with an eerie yellow
glow. A shiver of unease caressed her skin. As guests danced around
flames that sent shadows and light across their masked faces, she
couldn’t help but think they rather resembled a Grimm’s
fairytale…or a nightmare.

Still, she couldn’t return to that ballroom and
Aidan.

“Behold, an angel fallen from heaven.”

Startled by the sudden voice, Mary Ellen spun
around. A tall man dressed in a black suit with a black mask stood
at the bottom of the steps leading into the garden, his wicked
smile directed up at her. Mary Ellen frowned, confused by his
boldness. Then he shifted and the light from the lantern hanging
near the doors hit his golden hair. Her heart skipped a beat. Aidan
was not the man for her, but Lord Worthing was indeed.

“I believe I know that beautiful auburn hair, that
lovely figure.” He moved up a step, his body fluid, almost like a
cat… about to pounce. Still, he was safer than Aidan, surely.

Mary Ellen flushed, her grip tightening on the
railing. “Lord Worthing, I feared we would never get the chance to
talk tonight.”

He grinned, those amber eyes sparkling behind his
mask. He was so incredibly handsome, but blast it all, she couldn’t
help but compare his features to Aidan. Sadly, she found Worthing…
lacking.

“I’ll always find time for you.”

A couple months ago those words would have had her
swooning. Now… now they merely piqued her curiosity. Did his
comments seem too rehearsed? His movements played out too
precisely?

“A stroll with an angel would do wonders for my
soul.” He held out his hand.

Mary Ellen bit her lower lip. Dare she? Damn it all,
two months ago she would have jumped at the chance. She would not
give up on her dreams now merely because Aidan had come along.
Besides, other than the occasional grope and kiss, Aidan had never
spoken any words of affection. She’d planned too long and too hard
to let an infatuation with an inappropriate man like Aidan ruin her
future.

Mary Ellen moved down the steps, her legs wooden,
her heart protesting with a thumping beat of denial. She ignored it
all, ignored everything that told her to return to that ballroom.
Reaching him, she slipped her gloved hand into his. Aidan hadn’t
worn gloves, although why that comparison came to mind, she hadn’t
the least idea.

Worthing leaned toward her, his breath warm on her
ear where Aidan’s had been cool, almost cold. “The yews will
provide us with privacy.”

A shiver of unease whispered up her bare arms.
Worthing started forward, leading her toward the line of tall
trees. Every step she took was forced.

Don’t go.

A voice whispered somewhere nearby and at the same
time all around her. Mary Ellen paused, confused and glanced back
at the house. No one was there. Only the dancers could be seen
through the windows.

“My dear, what is it?”

“Nothing at all.” Mary Ellen turned toward Worthing
and smiled brightly up at him. “Shall we?”

“Indeed.”

The sounds of revelry faded the further away they
strolled, the shadows of the trees beckoning privacy. Brittle fall
leaves crunched underfoot, sounding very much like the breaking of
bones. Or was it the footsteps of a wolf?


Whooo, whooo,”
an owl called.

At the sudden snap of branches from a nearby elm,
Mary Ellen gasped.

“Fear not,” Worthing said softly. “I shall protect
you.”

But how could he protect her from a pack of dogs?
Did his breath smell of alcohol? How she despised the scent. Mary
Ellen gave him a tight smile, and wondered who would protect her
from him? They stepped between a parallel line of yew trees and
darkness surrounded them. Here, the yellow moon could not reach.
Here, prying eyes would not see.


Do you believe in ghosts, Ms. James?”
Aidan’s voice whispered through her mind.

She was very much rethinking her position on spirits
and the otherworld. “Perhaps we should return? The air holds a
chill that I don’t much care for.”

Worthing pulled his hand free and wrapped his arm
intimately around her waist. “I shall keep you warm.”

She stiffened under his bold touch. Never had she
cared much for men who pressed their advantage on unmarried
women…but for Aidan. No, she craved his bold touch. Oh, she and
Worthing had flirted, but she couldn’t help but think his actions
too much, too soon. She barely knew him, after all. What had she
been thinking when she’d decided he’d be the perfect husband? Why,
just earlier in the evening she’d seen him whispering in Catherine
Smith’s ear.

Before she could protest, his lips found hers. A
cold, damp mouth smothering the breath from her lungs. How very
different his kiss was from Aidan’s! When he shoved his tongue
between her lips, Mary Ellen’s stomach churned. Completely and
utterly different. He did not make her feel warm and achy, nor did
she feel as if she wanted to keep kissing him forever. In fact, she
only felt the somewhat frantic need to escape his touch. Mary Ellen
shoved her hands into his chest and twirled away from him.

“How do you truly know I’m Mary Ellen?” She took a
few steps back, intending to move as far away from him as possible.
“I could be anyone.”

“A fairy in disguise?” He grinned, thrilled with the
chase, as if she was a hen and he the fox. Disgusted, she glanced
toward the trees. She could slip through the yews, head across the
rose garden and be back at the house before anyone knew she’d been
gone.

“Shall I dare to uncover the truth?” he taunted.

“You’ll have to catch me first.” She pushed between
the green branches, taking refuge in the garden.

His delighted chuckle annoyed her. It was too
high-pitched, too loud, too unlike Aidan’s deep laughter. Damn him!
Why must she think of Aidan now? The man was a constant thorn in
her side. With her gloved hand, she swiped at her mouth, attempting
to erase the memory of Worthing’s kiss.

Dreadful, beastly man! Mary Ellen hid between two
trees, watching with relief as Worthing headed in the opposite
direction. She could only pray he’d become lost.

“Oh my little fairy, where are you?”

She rolled her eyes, stepped back onto the path and
brushed her skirts free of any leaves. Worthing was most definitely
not the man for her. But if not he, who then?

With a sigh she started toward the house. Her
slippers were soaked through with dew, most likely ruined, blast it
all. Would anyone notice and guess the truth? It was all Aidan’s
fault, really. If he hadn’t induced such strange emotions within…
if she wasn’t intent on proving she didn’t need a nanny…

A twig snapped from somewhere behind her. Mary Ellen
froze. Blast, had Worthing found her already? Yes, it was most
assuredly Aidan’s fault and she would make sure to tell him exactly
how she felt when she returned to the ballroom.

Mary Ellen pasted a smile upon her lips, and turned.
“Why, Lord Worthing, you’ve already…”

Two men stood in the shadows of the yews, faces
covered with black masks, clothing as dark as sin. She had no
reason to suspect they were anyone other than guests. So why did a
shiver of unease whisper over her skin?

“Can I help you?” she asked, hating the way her
voice trembled.

Neither one said a word.

Mary Ellen knew in that moment how right Meg had
been.

She never should have left the house.

 

****

 

“Byron is so very romantic, don’t you agree, Mr.
Callaghan?”

Aidan was doing his best to ignore the woman in
front of him, but she didn’t quite notice his disinterest. He’d
rather stab himself repeatedly in the eyes than talk about poetry.
He glanced out the windows. Where the hell was Mary Ellen? He’d
seen her slip outside moments ago but surely she hadn’t been silly
enough to head into the gardens unescorted.


Don’t go,”
he’d whispered, but she had left
anyway.

He moved to the open doors, knowing the woman
followed… Miss Palmer, or something or another. The woman Mary
Ellen seemed to despise. He didn’t blame her.

The patio was empty.

“Or do you prefer other reading material?” Miss
Palmer asked, snapping at his heels like a pup after a meal. If
only all human females were as annoying as Miss Palmer, there would
be no need to worry about infatuations.

He paused near the railing, resting his hands on the
cool marble. He hadn’t expected Mary Ellen to leave the patio, but
obviously she had. Under the glow of the moonlight he could see the
impressions of her slippered feet in the grass. Not only her
slippers. Larger prints as well. Male. The animal inside him roared
to life. Anger fought with despair. She might not want him, but he
had apparently claimed her as his own anyway.

“I, in fact,” Miss Palmer proclaimed. “Will read
anything.”

Aidan started down the stairs, his steps long and
hurried.

“Will you be back, Mr. Callaghan?” she called
out.

He didn’t bother to respond. Damn her, what was Mary
Ellen thinking to go off with some drunken fool? He knew she was
attempting to prove something, to show him that she didn’t bloody
well care, but he’d never thought her to be this irrational.

The laughter of the guests dancing around the fire
was barely audible. The only sound was his own blood roaring…
surging… through his veins in angry protest. He wanted her. He
needed her. She belonged to him. Only him.

He knew there was an owl overhead without looking.
Could hear Worthing calling for Mary Ellen near the rose garden.
The drunken fool. Knew there was a couple kissing passionately some
ten feet from him, hidden under the branches of a maple tree.

None of that mattered, for in the air was Mary
Ellen’s sweet scent. He closed his eyes briefly as he continued
down the path, following her. The little fool. When he found her,
he’d tell her exactly how stupid she’d been. And then…hell, and
then he’d kiss her. He’d kiss her and show her pricesly where she
belonged…with him. A sudden scream interrupted the night sounds. A
scream so soft and muffled that others wouldn’t have heard the cry
for help. But he heard.

Mary Ellen
.

Fear and anger combined. Aidan burst down the trail,
uncaring who noticed his unnatural speed. The shadows between the
yews morphed into human shapes. Two men, one woman. Mary Ellen
struggled in the arms of her captors, doing her best to break
free.

Aidan saw red. His fingers curled and he burst
forward so fast they didn’t see him coming. He grabbed the first
man by the shirt and tossed him aside, finding perverse
satisfaction when he heard the thunk of the man hitting a tree. He
had no time to think, only time to act. The animal inside him would
protect what was his, and Mary Ellen was his whether she would
accept it or not.

A split second later he threw his fist forward,
directly into the second man’s face. The crack of bone was a most
pleasing sound. Mary Ellen started to fall back with her captor.
Aidan reached forward, jerking her safely into his arms. Dear Lord,
if anything had happened to her… No, he couldn’t think on that now.
He pressed his face to her hair, breathing in her scent and trying
to calm the raging fury in his veins.

“Aidan?” Mary Ellen blinked up at him, confused.

He understood her bemusement. It had all happened
within a blink of an eye. No human could possibly understand what
had just taken place. He knew by the scent, both men were dead.
Their bodies broken by the pressure of his fists. He felt no guilt.
He merely wanted to kill them all over again. Grayson would have a
damn mess on his hands.

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