paranormal / fantasy romance ebook

WARNING

Some of the books on this site contain material of a sexual nature or graphic violence and are only suitable for adults. By reading the excerpt below you release me as the author of any responsibility.

Excerpt

Lightning arced across the black clouds, illuminating the two turrets on either side of the facade of the manor. Their conical roofs reached up towards the dark tempestuous heavens. A weathervane spun fiercely in the wind above one. Ashlyn feared the lightning would strike there next. Thunder rolled overhead, low and threatening. The windscreen wipers of the taxi squeaked rhythmically in time with the swish of water as they cleared the heavy rain. Her warm breath fogged the window nearest her. Did she really want to go out there, in there?

Her aunt’s house had never seemed so frightening and haunted.

With trembling fingers, she handed the taxi driver the fare and then slung her backpack over her shoulder. She pulled her black umbrella from the side pocket and armed herself with it. It wouldn’t stand a chance against the weather, but she had to give it a shot. It was better than admitting defeat and getting soaked without putting up the slightest fight.

She opened the door and took a deep breath. The moment she stepped out, she pressed the button on the umbrella with one hand and shut the taxi door with her other. The umbrella burst open and was above her head before the door had even closed. She hunched up and ran towards the arched door of the house.

Lightning struck again, closer now, and she froze on the gravel drive. Her hands shook along with the rest of her body when the thunder boomed above her. The storm was overhead.

Another bolt drew her eyes back to the imposing house. Not a single light was on. The windows reflected the white light of the storm and flashed like cat’s eyes. She willed her racing heart to slow down and tried to get a grip, but the sight of the dark house in the midst of such a heavy storm was creeping her out and making her imagination run riot.

Wind blasted against her, plastering her legs with fat rain drops and saturating her in an instant. The trees surrounding the house and garden swayed ominously, black pines against an even blacker sky.

When lightning arced directly overhead, she ran to the door. The wind claimed her umbrella, ripping it from her hand. She turned in time to see it dancing across the garden, heading for the dark woods. She swallowed and shoved her key into the lock on the door. She could get another umbrella. There was no way she was going into that forest. It had frightened her when she was a child and it still frightened her now.

Pushing the door open, she burst into the entrance hall and struggled to keep hold of the door in the wind. She pushed hard against it, fighting the weather and eventually managing to get it closed and locked. Silence greeted her. The violence of the storm drifted into the background.

She flicked the switches near the door and the lights slowly eased into life in the exact way she remembered. Everything about this house made her feel the age of it. Her aunt had told her that it affected people and made them slow down too. She hoped it would relax her. She needed these two weeks of alone time to get her life into order and her head together. Since her parents’ death, she’d been a mess.

The air in the house was chilly and drained her of what little body heat she had left. Her wet clothes turned cold and goose bumps prickled across her skin. The dark wooden interior of the house mixed with the grey stone did nothing to brighten her mood. It was an interior that matched the haunting exterior and the storm perfectly. In weather like tonight, it made the house look like something from an old Hammer House of Horror movie. She expected Dracula to come drifting down the wide mahogany staircase in front of her.

A moment’s wait said she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

A man would definitely take her mind off things for a while. There wasn’t a chance of finding one out here in the wild British countryside though. She was miles from the nearest village and had never really ventured out of the boundary of the garden in all the times she’d been here as a child. The last time she’d been here was several years ago now. She walked up the stairs, following her memories to the room she’d used then. It was the only time she’d been here as an adult.

She stopped at the top of the stairs. The lights here were dim, offering no respite from the eeriness. They weren’t strong enough. She wished her aunt would invest in bulbs that were a little brighter. It wasn’t creepy when there were other people in the house. Now she was alone though and she couldn’t stop her mind from conjuring up horrifying things.

Her heart leapt into her throat when a squeaking scraping sound filled her ears. A shiver bolted down her spine. It sounded as though someone was running fingernails down a blackboard. It grew louder as she neared a turn in the corridor. The sound of something knocking on glass joined it, making her heart race to its limit. Her breaths became pants and she slowly crept down the hall, fearing what she’d see when she turned the corner. There was a crash and wind rushed past her, rattling the paintings on the dark wooden walls. She jumped out into the corridor at the turn, ready for anything.

The window slammed against the wall again, the wind battering it and the tree outside it swaying wildly. Rain hammered down on the windowsill and floor. She ran to the end of the hall and pushed the window shut, shoving the black wrought iron latch into place so hard that it jammed. At least it wouldn’t blow open again. The thin end branches of the tree outside rattled and scraped against the glass.

Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly and tried to calm down again. If the weather continued like this, she wasn’t going to be able to relax at all. It had her more on the edge than ever. Every door she passed, she expected someone to jump out of it. Every sound she heard became the noise of an intruder, some dark demon come to kill her.

She wiped her hand over her face, clearing the water away, and sighed. Her skin was freezing. She forced a happy smile.

“I’ll get some dry clothes on and light a fire downstairs and the storm will blow over before long.” The sound of her voice was soothing, alleviating the empty silence of the house and the terrifying sounds of the storm.

Thunder chased across the clouds again.

She sang to herself and opened the door to her bedroom. She didn’t stop singing the whole time that she was unpacking and getting changed out of her wet clothes and into a dry pair of loose jeans and a thick dark red jumper. She tied her long brown hair up into a knot at the back of her head. It didn’t matter that she kept getting the lyrics wrong, as long as she kept singing. The more she sang, the less she imagined monsters and murderers.

Heading downstairs, she followed a path through the house that made it all more familiar and less frightening. Happy memories filled her mind, chasing away the pointed black shadows of her fear. She’d passed several summers here with her parents when she’d been a child. Each one had been blissfully happy and full of fun and laughter that still warmed her heart. Her last visit had been without her parents. She’d come to see her aunt, wanting to keep the close bond they had. She’d passed most of the holiday painting and drawing in the garden with her aunt, or sometimes alone. At home, she had several sketchbooks that she’d filled while here.

She found the main reception room and was relieved to see that her aunt had left wood beside the empty fire grate. Two worn and comfy brown armchairs flanked the fireplace. Between them was a low table. She remembered playing chess against her father there when she’d been small. He’d always let her win, even though he was far better than her at the game. A smile touched her lips. She bent down in front of the fire and stacked several logs up on the grate. Some kindling and a little miracle work with the matches, and she had the start of a blaze. It instantly warmed the room, making the raging storm feel even more distant as the heat of it caressed her thigh and arm.

Her gaze roamed around the room, refreshing her memory of the huge family portraits that hung on the walls in gilt decorative frames and the expansive mirror on the far wall opposite the fireplace. It reflected the light from the fire back at her, brightening the dark green walls of the room and bringing out their colour. The doors either side of it led through to the ballroom where she’d spent hours in the past pretending to dance with princes and dashing young men.

Something on the table beside her caught her eye when she went to stand. It was a note. She picked it up with a frown and turned it over when she saw her name written on the front in her aunt’s neat script.

She smiled.

Her aunt had left her with a full refrigerator and told her to use the art materials in the studio if she felt inclined to draw. It had been a long time since she’d drawn anything. Perhaps she would.

She settled down in one of the armchairs and leaned her head back. The fire roared and danced in the breeze coming down the chimney. It warmed her from her toes up, chasing away the chill of the rain.

Her fingers idly traced the rows of books beside her in the bookshelf that filled the wall at this end of the room, intersected by the fireplace. Her eyes casually followed them. Her aunt loved poetry, all romantic and flowery. She couldn’t stand it herself. Love wasn’t all hearts and roses. It needed to be challenging and exciting, not something easy.

The lightning struck close by and the rain fell heavier. She could hear it pummelling the patio outside the French doors on the wall opposite her. Another flash illuminated the curtains that covered the glass doors, silhouetting the criss-cross of wood that held the panes in. The fragrance of wet earth and ozone joined that of the blazing fire. She curled up on the armchair and snuggled into her jumper. The grandfather clock in the entrance hall chimed out the hour. Ten. It was getting late.

She closed her eyes and stifled a yawn. The warmth of the fire made her sleepy and it wasn’t long before she’d drifted off.

Ashlyn’s eyes slowly opened. She blinked to clear the haze of sleep from them and then stretched in the armchair, a contented moan escaping her. The fire was dying. She reached over and placed a few more logs onto it. The silence hit her. The storm was gone.

Getting to her feet, she padded across the room to the French doors and pulled the curtain aside. The grass glistened and the puddles on the patio shone brightly, twinkling. She opened the doors and then slipped into the wellington boots she spotted beside them. They were too big, but they’d do.

Her feet slid inside them when she stepped out onto the wet patio and looked around. The whole world was silent and so beautifully peaceful. A bright full moon shone down, its’ light so pure and white that it made everything blue. The air was cold and smelled of earth. It refreshed her and chased sleep away. It was strange how the world could look so stunning after a storm. The tranquillity was such a stark contrast to the rage of the lightning and thunder.

The trees across the garden were still creepy. The tall, dark blue pines towered over her, surrounding the house and making her feel cut off from the world and isolated. Church bells rang out the hour in the far distance, travelling to her across the still Earth. They gave her courage, even though they announced that it was two in the morning. She stepped out onto the grass and raised her eyes to the heavens. The stars were beautiful, drowned out by the strength of the moon but still there shining down on her. It was so peaceful.

Something shifted on the edge of her vision.

She instantly looked there, her heart accelerating when she realised it was a man sitting on one of the stone benches around the circular fountain. The rosebushes almost blocked her view of him, but she was sure that it wasn’t her mind and the moon playing tricks. He wasn’t a shadow made a man by her imagination.

Heart in her mouth, she turned to go back into the house. The crunch of gravel under a heavy boot made her tremble and she doubled her speed, no longer fearing disturbing him as he came towards her. She reached the patio. It was only a few more steps to the doors.

“I mean you no harm,” a lush male voice said, caressing her ears with its subtle tones and arousing her interest.

She didn’t stop walking.

He reached the patio too.

Turning to face him, she backed towards the doors, her heart pounding painfully against her chest.

“I had not realised that someone was here.”

There was a look in his dark eyes and a gentle tilt to his bowed lips that said he was telling her the truth. Maybe he was. A burglar would probably be startled if they suddenly realised they weren’t alone.

“Are you intending to break in?” she said, finding courage somewhere around her feet and bolstering it so it would return to her stomach.

His smile widened and when he moved slightly, the moon shone on the side of his face. God, he was good looking, and oddly familiar.

“No, no such thing,” he said with enough hurry and horror that she was swayed again. “I often walk here. Meredith allows me to.”

The name of her aunt being pronounced by his stunningly kissable lips only mildly reassured her. She kept her distance when he stepped towards her.

“Do you live close by?” She managed to hold the tremble from her voice.

He nodded. “I can leave if it will ease your mind.”

She frowned. He had a strange way of speaking, and now that she was looking, an even stranger way of dressing. The tight black trousers, shiny riding boots and loose white shirt made him look like something out of a ‘Pride and Prejudice’ inspired fantasy she’d had once.

He went to leave. She made a strangled noise in her throat and held her hand up. His head turned and he looked over his shoulder at her, his dark eyes meeting hers and making her whole body flush. He wasn’t the fantasy man. He was just a guy from the area that knew her aunt. Telling herself to get a grip had no effect. The question in his eyes demanded an answer. Was he to leave or not?

“It’s a little late for a walk,” she said, deciding not to answer it.

His head tilted back and his eyes shifted to the moon. “The storm kept me from walking.”

Moonlight kissed his profile, making it glow softly in a way that had her heart fluttering like a butterfly. She swallowed and gave up trying to get a grip because there was something about him that made her instinctively throw all self-control out of the window. Long dark hair caressed his shoulders, tied at the nape of his neck with a ribbon. He held a jacket in his hand, black like his trousers.

He moved to face her again and shadows hid his features. “May I ask why you are here?”

Her eyebrows rose. He didn’t have to ask if he could ask.

“My aunt... Meredith... let me stay here while she was away. I needed a break and some quiet.”

“I had not realised that your aunt had a guest. If I had, I would not have presumed that I could still walk the grounds.”

He did have a strange way of speaking. Something about it made her warm inside and slowly swept her back to that fantasy. She wondered what kind of jacket he held. In her mind, it was exactly the kind that Mr. Darcy had worn.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said and moved out towards the edge of the patio, forcing him to turn so his face was again bathed in moonlight. She didn’t venture too close, just near enough that she could clearly see his face. His gaze pierced hers again. “Did you come from a fancy dress party?”

He smiled, handsome in the clear white light.

Something about him was so familiar. It made her feel strangely comfortable around him.

“Have we met before?” she said, narrowing her eyes on his and trying to discern whether he matched any face in her memory.

He nodded. “We have, once or twice, seen each other. You are Ashlyn, Meredith’s youngest niece.”

Her eyes widened with shock. He really did know her. How could he remember her when she couldn’t recall where she’d seen him?

“I haven’t been here for a long time,” she whispered with a frown. “It’s been seven years... since I was twenty six.”

He nodded again and ran his eyes over her. They settled longest on her face.

“You do not look any different. Your hair perhaps and there is a little more worry in your eyes.” Something surfaced in his eyes that looked like concern. They softened, losing the hard edge they’d gained during his appraisal of her.

“I really don’t remember you at all,” she said with a nervous giggle, fear creeping back in at the edge of her mind. He knew her so well. How? Why was he walking the garden so late at night? “But you are familiar.”

She stepped forwards. He countered her with a step back, leaving her even more curious about him. A moment ago, he’d wanted to be close, had allowed her to move into a position that brought them within a few feet of each other.

The church bells chimed in the distance.

He looked towards them, his jet eyebrows meeting in a heavy frown.

“I must go,” he said without looking at her. “Good night.”

Before she could utter a word, he’d bowed stiffly in her direction and had walked away, disappearing around the corner of the house. She stared there a moment and then went inside.

He hadn’t told her his name.

It didn’t matter.

Something told her that she’d see him again.

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