6 comments/  14475 views/  6 favorites

Fairytale Bride Ch. 01

By: mcbook



Her father's last, and somewhat strange, request had brought Maddie here, back to Harcles Hill Farm, to the cramped, web-filled, dust-strewn garret high in the rafters. For hours, she searched the attic until she found the tiny trinket he'd made her promise to find wrapped in an antique chemise. 

Her frown and her breath, deepened as she studied the gold chain dangling between her fingers and pondered the name that so haunted her father in his last days. Did it belong to Sarah? And if it did, who was Sarah? Where on earth was she supposed to start looking for Sarah? 

At first, she had thought her father was confused, mistaking her mother's name with that of another, but then she caught his eyes—his clear olive gaze. Sane and lucid, without a hint of the disease invading his brain, torturing his speech and contorting his thoughts. For a brief moment, she glimpsed the strong, vital man he once was. 

Faint molecules of ethereal scent punctuated the heavy, dank odour of age filling her nostrils, and seemingly touched her senses with vague familiarity, teasing her brain with titbits of memory—the soft lilt of music, the lively sliver of swishing skirts, the sound of laughter amidst a maelstrom of shapeless faces. Happy times, she thought, though she had no idea how she could have known it. 

"Well, it feels like happy times," she voiced in self-correction, then realised in amazement she couldn't possibly have knowledge of that, either. Still, somehow her spirits were lifted by the thought, and her heart suddenly overwhelmed by that singular emotion. 

Her fingers caressed the delicate gold crowned heart swinging to and fro. It had been a while since she had been happy...felt happy. 

The shadows about her unexpectedly softened to a gentle shade of blue, and she snapped her gaze left to the bewitching aura of moonlight which filtered through the attic's small casement window. 

Rising from the dust-covered floor, she slipped the tiny chain into the pocket of her sundress and, moving to the window, gazed out onto the dark and cloudless night sky. All was still. Below her, she glimpsed her father's hillside walled garden, and above that a clear, full moon. "A blue moon," she declared pensively. 

The blue moon has a face, her father had told her. At midnight it speaks to those lucky enough to hear its voice. 

She thought it merely the ramblings of an old, sick man, for the intelligibility was long gone, and a faraway look had crept into his eyes as he fell once again exhausted against the pillows. "The garden is an enchanted place under the blue moon," he had told her, eager to say his piece. "You don't remember, Maddie, but magic happens. Walk in the light of the blue moon, and you'll see. Midnight, Maddie. Midnight," he repeated, his voice feeble with death. "Just believe." 

She sighed. Right now, she wanted to believe. She wanted to escape. She closed her eyes and tried to remember. 

As a child she believed her father's stories...Stories that had felt so real. She opened her eyes and gazed down into the garden. It was real. Everything. She knew it. Could feel it. Yet, why couldn't she remember it? 

"Because I am no longer a child," she voiced, sadly. "Peter Pan didn't want to grow up for the very reason I can't remember." 

**** 

The attic door swung open with a violence that shook the air, shattering the picture of longing that formed before her eyes, and exchanging it once again for the centuries-old gathered dust floating in spiralling clouds in the moon's light. She jumped and snapped her head around, raising startled eyes to the tall, forbidding presence standing there. To the beautiful man. To the ugly man. To the imposing man whose broad, athletic frame easily eclipsed the space in which he stood. 

Shock kept her mute, and she could only mouth his name. 

"Hello, Maddie." 

She recognised at once the taut control in his voice; she'd learned to fear it these last months; and in the perversity of a vicious circle, her fear merely served to feed his cruelty. 

There was enjoyment in his physical abuse of her; in his domination of her spirit and the absolute power he wielded over her life. She suppressed her shudder, and lowered her gaze from the stunning, glittering eyes coolly appraising her from within the blue-hued shadows. Twelve months earlier it had all been so very different between them. 

He was charming, his gaze ardent, his touch passionate. He totally bowled her over brushing aside her reserve until he found the vulnerable woman hidden beneath. He nurtured her until she blossomed beneath his touch, opening her virgin heart and body to his in a way she could have never contemplated with any other man. He played her like Davidov, though there was no one other to blame for her naïvety. 

She believed his words, believed his lies, but she could hardly breathe, let alone think, when he was near, and any warning signs that their relationship was doomed to end in the sadism it became was lost within the swirl of delirious emotions overwhelming her at every moment. 

But then, the illusion shattered in the moment he struck her. One mighty blow across her cheek irrevocably crushing her innocence and destroying her trust. Just like that. Out of the blue. 

The reality of her situation hit her hard; she had never truly been in love, and she had never been happy. Cameron merely blindsided her emotions; her vanity did the rest. 

Her father had warned her about Cameron. He had seen at a glance what she did not, yet she didn't listen. But, she listened now. 

Only, now it was too late. 

Her father was dead, and she was alone. 

She turned slowly within the diaphanous beam of moonlight, and fully faced Cameron. 

With widened eyes, she watched his silhouette fluidly negotiate the cramped, cluttered space, stooping once to avoid the mesh of low beams between them, his movement unhurried...suspended, almost, as if in menacing animation. She knew there was no use screaming, and to resist would only prove futile and justify his need to hurt her, adding to his sexual gratification. His silhouette slipped effortlessly into the shadows. 

The air vibrated lightly about her, briefly fanning the warmth from her skin. She shuddered. He was circling her. Slowly, watchful, stalking. Toying with her nerves. 

The tenseness of the silence pounded her brain, amplifying her senses to an almost excruciating state of awareness. She needed to scream, to vent the fear constricting her throat and galloping loudly through her heart. 

He was closer now. 

She could feel his presence, feel his eyes on her face, feel his warmth pervade her clothes and touch her skin. 

Yet, still, he did not. 

She bit down hard on her lip in an effort to cease its trembling, and steeled herself against the weight of intensity that was him. 

The sudden chill of his fingers moving up her bare arm brought a gasp to her lips, and a cold rush rippled over her skin raising the hairs painfully on the back of her neck. He stood behind her up close and personal, his breath hot against her ear. "Still believe in fairytales, Maddie? Still think your prince is somewhere out there? That he's coming to rescue you?" He chuckled softly. Mockingly. "To take you from me." 

She flinched again at the mirthless sound. 

Cameron rasped in her ear. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? You and the old man...whispering behind my back, conspiring against me. Wanting me gone. I'll never leave you, Maddie, and I'll not let you leave me. I would kill you first. In two days, you will become Mrs. Cameron House." His fingers continued their measured caress up her arms. "Legally mine to do with as I please, when I please, and how I please." 

She closed her eyes in helpless resignation. 

He'd proposed, and she'd said, yes. Fool! Too quick. Her mind knew it. Her heart knew it, too, yet her will was weak; had been made weak by the very man who said he loved her, yet whose words cut her to the quick and whose hands bruised her skin, but then again a man whose lips inexplicably loved her, whose touch aroused her with ease, and whose body claimed hers with a passion and a need that both excited her and shocked her at the same time. 

She bit back her tears as his fingers inched the short hem of her dress to her waist. His hands stilled against the bare contour of her hips, and she felt him smile against her ear in appreciation of the sweltering heat of this midsummer night that made the need for underwear a redundant necessity. 

His arm circled her waist pulling her tightly to him, and she relaxed instinctively against the hardness of his shirted chest. 

His hand slid down her thigh coiling fluently about the smooth limb, sensual and terrifying alike. 

Releasing her waist, his hand slid upwards to cup her breast, kneading and massaging the firm flesh, pinching and squeezing her raw nipples until she moaned her own submission. 

The sultry kiss of the summer heat on her skin, the feel of Cameron's possessive touch excited her more than it ought. She whispered a soft purr which fell silent within his own pleasurable growl. 

She felt his body respond to hers; felt the hardened bulge behind his jeans nestle dominantly against the naked curve of her bottom, heard the subtle change in his breathing, shallow and quick. 

"You knew I would come. Didn't you?" There was satisfaction in his voice. He wanted her. But, then again, sex was never the problem between them. 

A part of her knew he was right, but she didn't want to face this truth that quite simply defied all logic. She willed her brain to function; to give her a thought and the capability of speech. 

"Outside," she whispered, hoping upon hope she sounded flirtatious; beguiling. 

"What?" Disbelief edged the voice still very close to her ear; suspicion halted the caress of his rousing fingers. 

She moistened her lips nervously and, relaxing her head against his shoulder, turned her face to meet his gaze. Their lips barely touched. 

"I've never had sex outside. Tonight's special. Can't you feel it? There's something in the air, Cameron. Something magical. Something feral. Something..." She skimmed a leisurely hand behind her down the taut muscles of his stomach and over his straining crotch. "...erotic." 

Cameron's eyes held hers, and she resisted the urge to recoil from their challenging intensity. "Why? What's changed?" he demanded. "You've never been this willing." 

Maddie raised herself onto her toes, bringing her mouth closer to his. "Me," she whispered silkily, and pressed her lips seductively against his. She felt him stiffen, disbelief and suspicion making him evidently wary. 

Raising one arm above her head she curled it sensually about his neck steadying herself. She pushed her bottom against his strong erection. Her tongue sensuously traced his lips, and a strange, inexplicable sense of power engulfed her as she felt him finally relax against her. Hungrily, he returned her kiss, breathing, her name against her lips. 

Her skin tingled, and a fiery warmth radiated from the pit of her stomach to the apex above her thighs, yet panic assaulted her thoughts. She hated him, didn't she? Despised his touch. Then, how could she explain this? This desire. This need. This want. 

Softly, she moaned in her despair. How could she hate him...this...if her body continually betrayed her? She eased herself from his embrace, and stared into his eyes. 

"There must be something in the air," Cameron murmured. He kissed her again. Not hard or demanding or hatefully, but softly, tenderly, lovingly, and for a moment she knew him again, the man to whom she once gave her heart. 

But he was not the same nor would he ever be again. This Cameron revelled in her pain, and even if he could change, she knew he would not want to. 

In silence, she took his hand and led him from the attic. Could she believe her father's dying words? 

Five minutes, she thought as they descended the small, winding stairs. Five minutes to midnight. Five minutes before the moon reached its zenith in the midsummer night's sky. She stepped into the warm night with Cameron following close behind her. 

Seizing her arm, he turned her to face him. "What now?" 

The tip of her tongue darted between her lips drawing his eyes to the moist soft flesh. 

"The garden," she whispered. 

Cameron caught her face lightly, but firmly, between his fingers and brought his face close to hers in open warning. His voice deadly calm, he said, "I know what you are planning, Maddie, but it won't work. I know the secret, too." His fingers tightened slowly, and his eyes narrowed to slits of ruthlessness. 

Far away in the distance, over the roaming hills, she heard the bells of the town clock strike midnight. One...two... "What secret?" Four...five... 

"Don't lie to me. What else do you know? What did your father tell you?" Seven...eight...nine... 

Almost midnight. 

I believe, father. I believe. 

Pulling free from Cameron's embrace, she turned swiftly and raced down the path leading to her father's secret garden. Behind her, Cameron's angry voice assailed her. 

"I have travelled through time to find you. I won't let you go now. Emily!" 

Her heart somersaulted at the sound of his heavy steps closing in on her. 

Ten... 

She felt his breath graze her neck, felt his fingers hover above her shoulder. She screamed. 

Twelve...

Fairytale Bride Ch. 02



Emily...It took a moment for her senses to unscramble; for her consciousness to assimilate her strange surroundings. The walls were gone, and Cameron was nowhere to be seen. Had it worked? Did the magic really happen? Did she pass through the garden gate? Eyes wide and heart pounding, she slowly spun to look about her, her senses giving evident answer to her own questions. 

The moon did speak. The magic did work, but where had it brought her? 

She stared in awe at the dark, copious expanse of trees about her whose dense canopy, rustling heavily above her, allowed only partial glimpses of a dusky sky. Adjusting her eyes, she absorbed the meagre light filtering down to the dark forest floor as she rubbed her arms against the cold, damp-filled air. With quick realisation she gingerly fingered the coarse fabric beneath her touch. 

In awe, she studied the golden brown Spencer jacket she now wore that, splaying slightly at her waist, followed the same elegant line of the long crimson coloured muslin dress she also, now wore. 

Though glad of the long sleeves, her surprising change of clothes still offered little defence to the chill wind blowing with seemingly greater determination about her. She lifted her skirts and stuck out a stockinged foot on the end of which sat a crimson coloured silk ballet-type shoe with a crimson coloured rosette decorating the toe. Hardly appropriate for such weather, she thought. She searched the reticule dangling from her gloved hand, and was strangely relieved to find the gold chain there. She looked once more about her. Where was she? And furthermore, where was she to go? 

The ground started to shake. Faintly at first, then with an increasingly thunderous resonance that vibrated through her toes and channelled up her body, swinging her mind immediately from the whys and the wherefores to the what the hell. In the distance, the deafening rumble of a fast approaching sound. 

Caught in uncertainty she could only watch in horror as the cause of this earth-shattering tremor loomed into view. 

Two brawny and highly spirited horses were careening through the trees at breakneck speed, directly at her. Too late to scream and helpless to move, she closed her eyes, steeling herself against the ultimate and violent outcome. But she was not trampled underfoot, not even nudged by the huge beasts as they sped past her leaving in their wake the damp warmth of sweat and the heady scent of leather. 

For a moment, she stood still, afraid to open her eyes, afraid to interact with God-Knows-Who, right here, right now, when she had totally no idea where she was. 

She opened her eyes anyway, and took a step backwards adjusting her sight to focus on the two riders who loomed high in front of her in their close fitting buckskin breeches and slim fitting, lacquered, knee-length riding boots. 

The sleeves of their white ruffle shirts, pulled excessively longer than the sleeves of their tailored riding coats, encompassed more than half a gloved hand, and a simple, silk cravat adorned their throats. The only difference in their attire being the amount of material incorporated into each costume. Whereas one was tall and athletically build, the second, though, also, tall, was a great deal more corpulent. 

A ridiculously tall, straight top hat with a narrowly curled brim completed the look, tempting her to laugh, and had her situation not been as dire she most certainly would have laughed. 

The stallions stamped the ground as if anxious to be on their way, yet with apparent ease and utmost control, the riders kept their horses reined. The corpulent man addressed her first. 

"Who are you, and why the devil are you standing in our way?" 

Still stunned by her close escape, Maddie could only stare dumbfounded at the man addressing her. Not the handsomest of men, she thought seeing his face for the first time as he urged his horse forward and out of the shadow, but even in the sparse light she could make out his ruddy cheeks, Hapsburg lip, and glassy, arrogant stare. Must be a man of some pretentious authority, she mused wryly. 

"We think we have happened upon a simpleton," the man continued, half-turning to his companion. "Do you not agree, Ruglen?" 

"Indeed I do, Your Majesty, for she does not speak or show the proper deference to the Prince Regent of England." 

Maddie snapped her gaze to the other man, who sounded younger than the Prince Regent, and whose features remained silhouetted against her curiosity. 

"Perhaps the gallows could persuade her to loosen her tongue, and have her recollect her manners." 

She quickly lowered her gaze, and curtseyed as elegantly as she knew how. Still, she didn't speak. She dare not speak. What would she say? What could she say? She still needed to figure this out. Where the hell was she? For now, let it be as they assumed. 

The man she now knew to be the Prince Regent of England released a hearty laugh. "Did we not say so, my dear Lord Ruglen? Has she not indeed found her manners?" His laughter subsided. "Still, she does not speak. Look at me, girl!" Maddie raised her eyes once more to his scrutiny. "By the gods, does she not resemble someone of our acquaintance? Come, look, Ruglen. If we did not know otherwise we would say she was your—" 

"Perhaps, Your Majesty, there is a reason she does not speak." The man Ruglen interjected swiftly. Maddie frowned bemusedly. If it was his intent to sway the Prince Regent onto another topic, his strategy worked. 

"And does not wear a bonnet in such foul weather as this." The Prince Regent peered closer at her from his mount. "We daresay she is not versed in the Mirror of Graces, or The English Lady's Costume." 

"A Lady of Distinction would insist she swing on the gallows for that affront alone." 

"We daresay she would, but come, Ruglen, manage this." 

Her lowered gaze flicked upwards to Lord Ruglen who, emerging from the shadows, allowed her, for the first, full view of his face. Shock paralysed her breathing and widened her eyes to the size of saucers. An overwhelming sense of panic swept through her. 

"You trespass on private land." 

She barely heard him. 

Straightening abruptly, Maddie recoiled instinctively, tripping and falling in her haste. Scrambling to her feet she looked nervously about her in her sudden need to escape, and she turned to do just that, but found Lord Ruglen's horse blocking her path. 

She tried again, darting past him, yet she took no more than two steps before his horse blocked her way once more. Every which way she turned, he was seemingly prepared and determined to prevent her flight. 

"Enough," he called, as she attempted to evade him yet again. 

Taking a steadying breath, she raised tentative eyes to his. 

Stunning eyes. Familiar eyes, the colour of morion, coolly appraised her from on high. For a moment, their eyes locked, and recognition flowed between them. 

"Forgive me for having frightened you," Lord Ruglen said, soothing his tone. A pensiveness returned to his eyes as he traced a long, elegant finger along the scar marring his face. "You have my permission to leave." 

"But not ours." 

Maddie swung her gaze to the Prince Regent. A smile curved his full lips, and his small eyes regarded her with haughty contempt. 

"Choose me another, Your Majesty," Lord Ruglen said. 

She took a cautious step backwards. Something was changed. Something had changed. She sensed it. Her ears pricked for sound, awareness, and her eyes steadied. 

"Bed her and be damned, Ruglen. It is easy enough, and we daresay she will not put up a fight. From the look she gives you, we would say she would welcome such attention. Come. We have done your bidding. Now you must do ours, and we choose this wench to satisfy your lust." 

Maddie looked in shocked silence from one man to the other. She wanted nothing more than to lift her skirts and run, but her legs refused to obey the command. They seemed suddenly incapable of obeying her command. 

"Come now, Ruglen," the Prince Regent cajoled. "You hesitate. She is yours. By the gods, what a coincidence." He urged his horse forward, fencing Maddie in. 

She kept her eyes levelled on Lord Ruglen and took another trembling step backwards. Just you try it. Her fists balled at her side, and the air escaped her lungs in a rush, yet she couldn't draw breath. An approving glint sparked the depths of Lord Ruglen's eyes, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. 

Fear made her angry. Anger at this assumption, and her own susceptibility to it. Anger at her attraction to what she hated most. 

"Your Majesty does me a grave disservice," Lord Ruglen said. "I would appreciate a chance to win Your Majesty's wager, and survive the attempt." 

"Were the rules not simple enough, Ruglen? Our choice stands before you." 

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I would rather face Napoleon again at Hougoumont Farm than..." 

"You have no choice, Ruglen. It is our command." 

The frivolity, only moments before present, dispersed abruptly on an icy wind, and as Maddie looked from one stony countenance to another she suddenly realised this wager no longer concerned her. Whatever underlying antagonism there was between both men now merely spilled over to include her. 

The horses pawed the ground about her, and though both men had seemingly forgotten her, their mounts kept her unwittingly captive by their constant movement. 

"I would think my refusal quite conducive to His Majesty, and since one hundred thousand pounds would go a long way in alleviating His Majesty's debts, it is a wager I was glad to forfeit." 

"Do you not think we know that? Why else would we have wagered one hundred thousand pounds. Your abstinence is well documented, Lord Ruglen, and your loyalty to your wife's memory very commendable, but you vex us with your high morals." 

"My wife, Your Majesty—" 

"Is dead, Lord Ruglen. We remember your morals were not so high when she lived." The Prince Regent leaned forward as far as his bulk would allow: "Your father is not a well man. It is not expected he live past Michaelmas." 

Michaelmas. September wasn't it? 

"What the devil has my father got to do with this?" 

The Prince Regent lowered his hardened eyes to Maddie's rounded ones. "We will up the wager, Ruglen. Since you will not have the girl here where there are no eyes to witness it, we challenge you to have her where all eyes are in attendance. Make her your wife." 

She whirled about, her defences at the ready, her retort poised upon her lips, but Lord Ruglen was her fore. 

"Your Majesty surely jests. I am in no need of a wife and most certainly not such a simpleton as she." 

"Do this, Ruglen, and we could see to it the marquessate be passed to you, and not your father's cousin. We know that is what you want," the Prince Regent added slyly, "and it is only a matter of time before we become king...Well, are we in agreement, Ruglen?" 

For the first time since these strange turn of events, Lord Ruglen lowered his gaze to Maddie. There was something in their depths now she couldn't fathom, but the stakes were higher. She understood that. She understood, too, she would merely be the means to an end. 

"So be it," he said. 

The prince urged his horse forward: "We must read about the marriage, Ruglen, for it to be at all considered," he said. "Two weeks, Ruglen, and not an hour more." He galloped off. 

Maddie trembled against the cold she suddenly felt and the significance of what had just taken place. It seemed as if hours passed, but she knew it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. A small, brown pouch, suddenly dropped at her feet, startled her eyes up to the dark ones glaring down at her. From the sound it made, she could tell it was full of coins. 

It was not the long scar evident across Lord Ruglen's face that shocked her, but his eyes. Stunning, glittering eyes, the colour of morion. Cameron's eyes. Cameron's face. 

She could feel Lord Ruglen's anger, his displeasure, his...uncertainty. Mentally, she dismissed the uncanny timing of such an encounter, and the prospect of marriage to this man from whom she had, to all intents and purposes, crossed time and space to flee—though his indifference did puzzle her. I am in no need of a wife, and most certainly not a simpleton as she. 

"Meet me at the Pig and Whistle in one half hour," he instructed. Then, turning his mount he, too, galloped off, leaving her alone in woodland that somehow seemed larger than before, and yet was completely suffocating her. She was cold, hungry, and in desperate need of a warm bed to calm her emotions and compose her thoughts. 

Her hands followed her gaze as she stooped to retrieve the small, brown pouch full of coins. She smiled wryly. Lord Ruglen, or whoever the hell he was, would not know to find her. To hell with him, his marquessate, and his king. 

**** 

By the time she reached the edge of the forest, the sun was almost set. Rich rolling hills and fertile fields stretched before her, though its beauty was lost to her tired eyes; hunger and cold intensified 

her isolation and the endless distance she had yet to cover. Yet, an enormous sense of familiarity 

engulfed her as she gazed about her. 

Her brow creased, she set off once more, with only instinct steering her feet. 

Climbing over stiles and scaling walls she pushed on over hill and dale...then abruptly stopped. Her father...she remembered her father. They had taken walks like this before, on hillsides like this—the hillsides about their home. She climbed further, scrambling the final distance to the top of a hill. In the valley, a solitary spot of incandescence illuminated the descending darkness. 

There it was again, that feeling of familiarity, though stronger now than before. Hope filled her as she turned to look about her; relief filled her as her eyes rested on the old oak tree standing far upon the hill behind her. The same old tree that having survived centuries would continue to survive far into her modern world. She turned to look in the direction from whence she came, and knew at once where she was. Harcles Hill. Only Peel Tower was missing from the landscape she once knew. 

She was home. 

Home? Of course, it wasn't. Not hers, anyway. Not now. Taking deep breaths, and with the spark of hope quickening her tread, she made her way to the solitary light in the distance. To Harcles Hill Farm. 

She crossed the courtyard mentally noting the differences between the Harcles Hill Farm of now, and that which she would call home almost two centuries later. There were once outhouses, she thought, taking in the shadowed structures dotted about her, and animals. She listened a moment to the nocturnal farmyard noises, then gazed upon the main house. She was back in time, and, yet, still at her father's home. The feel and look of the old farmhouse was uncannily unchanged to the house she knew. 

Somewhere before her, in the shadows, a dog barked, startling her out of her skin, yet before she could compose her wits, the door to the house opened, and a young woman wearing a long, white chemise and woollen wrap across her shoulders stood in the doorway with oil lamp in hand. Raising the light slightly higher the young woman peered into the night. "Who is there?" she called. 

Maddie stood still wanting to move forward, yet unable to gather the courage to do so. She looked upon the young face. Even in the flickering shadows of the oil lamp the resemblance was unmistakable. 

"Who is there?" The young woman called again. 

Maddie watched her draw back, and push the door to, saying, "Be quiet, Gunn. There is no one there." 

Still, the door hadn't quite closed before it was again yanked open, and this time, feet bare and her shift fluttering about her ankles, the young woman stepped out onto the cold slabs of courtyard. "Father?" Her hope-filled voice trembled slightly, prompting Maddie to finally step from within the shadows. She could only imagine what she looked like with her clothes torn and her hair an untamed, straggly mess. 

"Hello, Sarah," she said. "Our father sent me." 

The lamp was lifted slowly higher, and she was forced to ward off its glare. For a moment neither spoke. 

"Where is father?" 

"Father is dead." Again silence. The wind howled across the open courtyard, and Maddie shivered. "Please, may I come in? I have come far, and it is cold. Surely, you are cold, too." 

"No." 

"I have a message from our father." 

"And that is?" 

"I am to assure you a dowry." It was neither truth, nor lie, but Maddie prayed it would grant her a night's rest. 

"You had better come in, then," Sarah returned solemnly, and lowered the lamp.



Fairytale Bride Ch. 03



Maddie awoke to the sound of pigs, sheep, cows, chickens...and Gunn, barking to her heart's content. 

She flipped from stomach to back and lay for a moment gazing at the oak panelled ceiling. All was as it should be, she thought, sliding her gaze from ceiling to panelled wall. From the carved oak Elizabethan four-post bed in which she lay to the oak farmhouse chair with rush seat and James the First upholstered oak panel back chairs across the room. Her father hadn't changed a thing. This was as much her room now, as it would ever be in her world. 

Her thoughts drifted to the young woman she met the night before. Sarah. Her father's daughter. Unmistakable. His ramblings were not that of a sick man, but that of a man at death's door assuaging his conscience. 

Sarah is in need of a dowry, he'd said. "Find her, Maddie, for she will be alone now. Find your sister." 

Dowry? Such an antiquated word, yet how was she to know. 

Had she not been so tired, she surely would've been angry at the thought of her father's deceit. But, she wondered, was it deceit? Somewhere in time, her father had another wife, another life...another daughter, so far removed from her reality—so surreal—as to be non-existent. But Sarah wasn't...had never been...a threat. No one had been hurt. Was that the trick? 

She entered Sarah's world, not the other way round. She was now the threat. She was the outsider, the trespasser. But, what would she tell her sister? What could she tell Sarah, anyway? The truth of their separation? Definitely more than six degrees. 

She came from a world of cynics and scientists where only children believed in magic and fairytales, and the unknown could inevitably, eventually, and pragmatically be explained. 

She could rationalise her presence here, find some way to explain it, and not fear it. The same, she was sure, could not be said of Sarah. She would probably do better to explain the law of attraction. 

She paused for thought. Her frown deepened. Could that possibly explain Lord Ruglen's resemblance to Cameron? Perhaps. But, how could she explain Cameron calling her Emily? 

Emily. 

She flipped again onto her stomach, and grabbing a cushion, buried her head quickly beneath it. 

"Good morning, Miss Elliott." 

Maddie stuck her head slowly out from under the cushion and stared at the girl she'd not heard enter her room, but recognised from the night before. And, as if she needed any reminder of her ill-timed arrival, the girl stifled a judicious yawn. 

"Good morning, Mary." 

"I've brought you some water. Would you like me to do your hair now, Miss Elliott?" 

"What time is it?" 

"A little past six o'clock, Miss." 

Maddie grimaced, and buried her head once more beneath the cushion. 

"And I must do your hair if we're going to get to church on time," Mary insisted. 

Church. "I have never attended church in my life, and I will not go now." 

"But Miss Sarah insists we all attend, Miss Elliott, and if I don't have you ready within the hour...well...there'll be hell to pay." 

Maddie yanked the cushion from her head and was about to sternly defend her atheistic point of view, and her right to defend it, when Sarah's saddened voice distracted her planned tirade. 

Swinging herself from the bed she raced across the oak floor to the window, unconsciously side-stepping the creaky floorboard she knew lay there. She gazed down into the courtyard below. A man, with hat in hand, wearing a dark green riding coat and tight-fitting breeches, addressed Sarah. His back was turned in Maddie's direction so she couldn't see his face, but she clearly saw her sister's. 

Masses of tight blond curls, escaping the white mob cap she wore, fell over forehead and ears, framing a face etched in worry. Her small, even teeth tugged at her bottom lip as she struggled not to cry. Suddenly, those familiar olive green eyes were raised to her, and Maddie knew she would go to church, and she would stay, despite Sarah's more than vociferous dislike of her presence. 

They had not spoken of her father...their father. Not yet, but somehow she knew there would be a lot to say, a lot to clarify, and a lot to learn. She watched the man storm away and mount his waiting horse. 

Her brow creased. Maddie ran her hand down her long dark plait then took her place compliantly at the dressing table. She rubbed her fingers pensively along the smooth walnut table as Mary carefully loosened her hair. 





Fairytale Bride Ch. 04



He was true to his word and, three days after their encounter, the invitation from Mr. Keeks to the Bank Hall ball, arrived. Sarah's surprise, and disbelief, couldn't have been more pronounced. Maddie, of course, knowing who was responsible for the invite, informed Sarah at once, who immediately began to suspect a great deal more than Maddie was prepared to divulge. 

Yes, she was acquainted with Lord Ruglen, and no, she was concealing nothing further. How far from the truth that was, but to tell Sarah of Lord Ruglen's apparent interest was something Maddie was not yet ready to admit to anyone, though, she wondered about her sister's reaction when it was made known she was to become the Earl of Ruglen's bride. 

The marriage had fringe benefits for them both. She couldn't deny that. And what of the Ton? In their eyes, she would be nothing—a nobody without class or fortune. 

"Are you not excited, Madeleine?" Sarah asked on the day of the soirée. "We are to go to Bank Hall. To a ball." She clapped her hands together and stared at her reflection for the umpteenth time that day. "It is said to be as grand and as splendid as any noble house in England. Our fortune has changed. I can feel it. Tonight, you must encourage Lord Ruglen. Since it is he who is responsible for our good fortune, and as he bestows such favours on a mere acquaintance, you would do well to keep him as a friend." 

"I thought you sincerely disliked Lord Ruglen's manner." 

"Well, now I find his manner greatly improved," Sarah stated decidedly. 

Sarah wore a fine gauze ball gown with short puff sleeves, trimmed with lace on the hem and gathered high under the breast with coloured ribbon. At her insistence the décolleté on both dresses had been lowered at the corners, revealing far more bosom than Maddie would have liked—she had never felt so naked—yet, the result, if she were honest, was breathtaking. She caught her own reflection, and smiled. Breathtaking and sensual enough, perhaps, to win Lord Ruglen's affection? Don't be ridiculous. 

"When does the carriage arrive? Do you think Lord Ruglen has forgotten us?" 

No, she didn't. 

At that moment, Mary entered announcing the arrival of Lord Ruglen's carriage. Maddie collected her shawl and followed her sister out into the cool night. The Earl was rich. She was a mercenary, and tonight she would undoubtedly hear the extent of this, and many more unsolicited opinions. 

**** 

They stood at the top of the impressive, oak carved, staircase in Bank Hall. Maddie gazed appreciatively at Sarah knowing she was made for nights like this, and she...well... 

"The Misses Elliott." A servant dressed in red and gold livery barked their arrival. 

Maddie released a slow breath as she entered the large ballroom. Their announcement, it seemed, had gone quite unnoticed, for none paid them any attention, and she was glad of that. Glad, too, of the soft yellow tone of the candlelight and room full of high-spirited guests that did much to conceal their entrance. 

The music was lively, and in the middle of the room couples were already dancing. Others stood in intimate groups looking on, whilst some, singly, or accompanied by another of the same sex, circled the room; curiously the men occupied an inner circle following the room in anti-clockwise direction; the women maintaining the outer circle, moved clockwise. 

Maddie was content to remain in the shadows and follow the goings-on from afar. Attracting interest or being invited to dance was not on her list of things to do that evening. Did she not promise Lord Ruglen discretion? And besides, the intricate dance steps Sarah and Mary painstakingly enforced on her were already lost. 

Sarah, having already slipped in line behind a young lady of equal size and proportion, turned to greet her. Maddie smiled, returning her sister's acknowledgment. Sarah was happy which, Maddie realised, was becoming more important to her. She'd definitely scored points having proven herself a worthy sister, even if it had been achieved by mere acquaintance alone. 

She looked about her knowing that mere acquaintance with Lord Ruglen was hardly recommendation enough to grant her acceptance, or immediate admittance, to the higher circles of the Haut Ton. 

Her eyes again sought Sarah, whom she spied across the room in conversation with a man of similar fair colouring as her own. Her smile genuine, and her eyes sparkling, Maddie intuitively knew he must be Captain Avery. Should he turn around and present his back to her, she could make certain of it. In fact, she was more and more certain of it when both turned their gaze onto her, and then made their way with seemingly determined effort towards her. 

"Do I not have good fortune?" Sarah beamed as she stood once more in Maddie's company. "The good fortune to introduce the people most dear to me, for you have become very dear to me, Madeleine." 

Maddie suppressed her smile. Sarah's affection, she suspected, stemmed more from her good fortune, as she put it, than from any form of sisterly obligation. 

"Captain Avery, may I introduce my sister? Miss Elliott." 

Captain Avery bowed politely; Maddie curtseyed. He was indeed a very handsome man, she thought. There were no peculiarities she could detect, and he seemed amiable enough. 

"Your sister informs me, Miss Elliott, of your acquaintance with Lord Ruglen. How is it you have accomplished in such a short period that which many a lady here has aspired to achieve with the execution of a military campaign and, yet, have still failed miserably?" 

Luckily Captain Avery didn't seem to require an answer to this question for he hurried on. "But it would be a woman of character, and indeed calibre, to win Lord Ruglen's affections. And since you have his affection, I can only assume you possess both assets, for he was yet to be persuaded to give it." 

"Captain Avery," Sarah admonished in her turn, "you make a grave assumption that has no foundation whatsoever. I did say Lord Ruglen and my sister mere acquaintances. I beg you, speak no more of affection. Next you will have my sister married to the man. Come dance with me as punishment for your insensibility." 

"A dance with you is hardly punishment, Miss Sarah," Captain Avery replied, holding out his arm. "My apologies, Miss Elliott, if I have caused offence, but by all accounts Lord Ruglen is a hardened and determined man who, for love nor money, could ever be persuaded so easily from the memory of his wife. I assure you, both have been tried." 

Yet, he would be persuaded for a marquessate. 

Maddie stood again alone, and unnerved by the directness of Captain Avery's conversation, looked tentatively about her. She caught the steely glances of a number of young ladies, and her fear was soon realised. What she had meant to keep secret was spreading from lip to ear, and at a seemingly remarkable pace. Panic filled her, and her eyes searched the room for Lord Ruglen. Surely, he would have the decency to attend this evening, and not leave her to face his sort alone. 

She turned, intent on seeking a quiet corner; somewhere far, far away from the bold looks and questioning gazes, but she took no more than a few hurried steps when the ballroom door opened and a liveried servant entered, heralding the arrival of the Prince Regent. 

The music ceased, the dancing stopped, and the room quietened. In silent unison, guests parted creating a path from the door across the centre of the dance floor wide enough to accommodate the corpulent figure of the Prince Regent and the woman at his side. 

More guests arrived following in close proximity behind the Prince, and Mr. Keeks shuffled forward, and made hasty introductions. 

Maddie's lowered gaze suddenly focused on a pair of black shining boots. Her stomach fluttered, and her breasts tingled. She didn't need to raise her eyes to know it was Lord Ruglen staring down at her. No other man, besides Cameron, had ever affected her that way. 

The silence was deafening, yet she no longer heard it. Her eyes found his, and all else disappeared. His all infused her, and she caught her breath. As handsome as Cameron, but twice as intoxicating. 

A booming 'aha' broke her spell, and Maddie swung her head in the direction of its utterance. The Prince Regent was fast moving towards her. 

"Is this her, Ruglen? Is she your bride? We daresay she looks a sight better than when we saw her last." Maddie lowered her eyes, and bowed her head. 

"Mrs. Fitzpatrick, come here," the Prince Regent called to his companion. "It will please us to finally introduce you to Lord Ruglen's bride. Did we not say Ruglen has found himself an interesting match?" 

**** 

There was a tense silence between them as Lord Ruglen escorted her to an adjoining room where an elaborately decorated table held all manner of sumptuous dishes. French doors were pulled open, and they slipped out into the cool air away from the contemptuous eyes and disapproving tongues which greeted her at every turn. 

The Prince Regent had no right, she concluded, to do what he did, but it pleased him to humiliate her in that way of waving about an edition heralding the engagement of the Earl of Ruglen-she looked askance at Lord Ruglen-and he'd not the good grace to forewarn her of such a contemptuous display. 

The look on Sarah's face had been priceless, not to mention the faces of eligible daughters, and the mothers of eligible daughters. 

Lord Ruglen stood a little way from her, his back to her, his manner aloof. His coldness surprised her. Was it not she who was humiliated and disparaged? His voice was low, controlled, familiar, as he addressed her: 

"I could not help but notice, Miss Elliott, the necklace you wear," he said, pivoting to face her. "May I enquire as to how it came to be in your possession?" 

Maddie trailed her fingers across the tiny crowned heart she wore. How could she explain what was to her an antique bought by her father in another time? She hesitated willing herself to create some kind of plausible story. "I—" 

A raw laugh emanated from his throat. "I had thought you an innocent in all this, but what a fool I have been." 

"My lord?" 

"My lord," he mimicked. "This time I believe the Prince has chosen well." 

Maddie couldn't help but draw back from the sudden anger blazing in his eyes. "The meeting in the woods? Your reaction to me? Bravo, Miss Elliott. You should not waste such talent in the country." 

"I am at a loss, my lord. Please. I do not understand. What have I done?" 

"You have procured Harcles Hill Farm for your sister, and have made me the laughing stock of the Ton, Miss Elliott. That is what you have done. I hope the Prince has paid you well, for your performance has been an excellent one." 

"What? You cannot believe me guilty—" 

He took a menacing step towards her. The light of the moon caught his face illuminating the scar across it, and Maddie ached to touch it—to touch his face and ease the pain she saw there. 

"You wear the evidence of your treachery about your neck, Miss Elliott. At least have the grace to own it." 

"My father..." The look on Lord Ruglen's face bade her stop. 

"The novadamus will be rescinded, and I shall indeed bear the title of Marquess upon my father's death. I will honour this wager, and in two days we will wed by special licence. I trust this is time enough. I would then be returning to Scotland." His hand caressed her face, but his voice was without emotion when he spoke again: "You will wear my ring and will bear my name for three years, and three years only. Have no doubt, madam, I will not impose my desires on you in that time. Ever. You will be my wife in name only, and I trust you do not forget it." He moved past her, then stopped. "The Prince Regent must have offered you a great deal, Miss Elliott." 

Maddie turned and ran down the broad, sweeping steps flowing to the garden, unable to contain her tears. 

Far from the house, and the music and laughter, she tried to understand the change which had occurred. The blame which had been laid, with such certainty, at her feet. 

The faint peal of bells tolled the midnight hour, and her despair. 

Hidden from view, she watched the moonlight dart across the water, its colour a rich spectrum of shimmering silver and blue. A splendid sight that at any other time would be a pleasurable experience for her, but not now. She threw a small pebble into the water fixing her eyes on the spot where it broke the surface before slithering beneath. The water rippled softly towards her, its crystal sound chiming on the breeze: Make a wish, Madeleine. Make a wish... 

She raised her face to the full moon, and closed her eyes... 

She could hardly believe her eyes as Lord Ruglen drew near, and her heart skipped a beat. "I thought you were gone," she breathed. 

"And that would cause you distress?" he asked, taking her right hand in his left and pulling her closer. His right arm slid about her waist and Maddie instinctively slid her left hand against his shoulder, closing the gap between their bodies. He smiled faintly. "Dance with me." 

"After tonight I believe the Patronesses of Almack's would have much to say of such impropriety." 

"And would you care, dear Madeleine?" 

"Since I have already been deemed socially unsuitable, such a display as this would merely serve to strengthen that opinion of me, my lord. I can only say that I am most fortunate, in that, I am not in search of a husband." His arm tightened and his mouth hovered above hers. 

"As am I." 

Her lips trembled softly beneath his, then parted eagerly as his tongue sought and found entrance to her centre. He deepened their kiss with every breath. 

Arching instinctively she clung to him wanting more. His mouth trailed from hers, and she sighed her disappointment. His lips traced her chin, her neck, the base of her throat. 

"Dance with me," he whispered. 

His mouth sought her breasts, and she gasped with longing. Heat spread from her abdomen to the apex of her thighs, and her nipples tightened to an exquisite ache. Her hands sought the hard bulge in his breeches, and she was rewarded with a barely controlled nip of his teeth in her honeyed flesh, and the sweet sweep of his tongue to assuage the pain. 

"Madeleine." He trembled against her. 

"Make me your bride, my love," she answered, seeing the question mirrored in his eyes. 

Touching and kissing, they undressed and stumbled to the ground their caresses ardent, their pleasure demanding more until he lay poised between her soft, willing thighs. She lay quivering in her readiness to accept him and he bade her look at him. 

Under the light of the moon he claimed her body with his. Swiftly, tenderly, fiercely. With an exultant scream she succumbed to the fiery bliss saturating her body, and when the moon was gone, so was he... 

Tears coursed down Maddie's face. About her, darkness. Beneath her, the soft, dark ground. Slowly, she wrapped her arms about her body and drew her knees to her chest. Not fair. None of it had been real. His voice. His promises. His love. Him. Not real. 

Her body shook. "Why did you show me that? Let me feel and touch and taste what I am never to know intimately? Not fair," she sobbed into the night. "Not fair." 

About her, the gaiety of the night only served to heighten the loneliness in her heart.



Fairytale Bride Ch. 05



"Why did you not tell me you were to marry?" 

Maddie smiled faintly. "I did not know you to love you as well as I do now, and the circumstance surrounding my meeting Lord Ruglen was too strange to be believed, even for me. Forgive me, Sarah." 

"Lord Ruglen? Of all the men fate could have set in your path, it was he." 

"And what of your good fortune? Had I not met Lord Ruglen, and accepted his proposal, there would most certainly be another tenant at Harcles Hill Farm." 

"Yes, I suppose there is a bright side to this unfortunate day." 

"Unfortunate? Sarah, I am to be married. Be happy for me." 

Maddie eyed her reflection and watched Mary set the final pin in her hair before taking a step back to admire her handiwork. With a slight nod, Maddie stood and examined herself in the mirror. "Well," she asked. "Will I do?" 

"You look beautiful, Miss Elliott," Mary said. 

"Yes, you do, Madeleine. Lord Ruglen is lucky to have you as his bride, but one day I wish to be appraised of all that was so strange, and not to be believed." 

Maddie glanced a final time at her reflection. Sarah had given her one of her finest gowns for this day. A dress of fine white muslin, and a soft, white silk shawl shot with primrose embossed with white satin flowers. Mary had again done her proud, styling her hair neatly under the small cap trimmed with lace that matched her shawl. She released a shaky breath. 

"I think it is time," she said. 

With slow, steady steps she descended the narrow wooden stairs, closely followed by Sarah and Mary, her witnesses. 

She paused at the parlour door. It was partially open so she could see the wedding breakfast on the wedding table; some variety of bread, hot rolls, buttered toast, tongue, ham and eggs. Mugs of hot chocolate stood at either end of the table. She raised tear-filled eyes to Sarah, and nodded her appreciation. 

"There was not time enough to make a cake." 

"It is thoughtful, Sarah," Maddie said, and threw her arms about her sister. "It is thoughtful and beautiful." 

Sarah eased from Maddie's embrace. "Come now," she said, wiping away a tear. "You will spoil your face." Her own hands trembling, she took up Maddie's hands. "I know I did not first behave as a sister should, but your appearance surprised me. Not for the reason you think, but because I had prayed for your arrival. I had prayed for a sister to help me, and, then, there you were answering my prayers, and making of my father...our father...an adulterer." 

"Your father was not unfaithful, Sarah," Maddie answered, "and neither was mine. It is complicated, but one day I will explain everything. I promise." With a reassuring smile and gentle squeeze of her hand, she made her way as calmly as she could to the drawing room. 

The Rector stood at the far end of the room with the parish clerk and two other men who were wearing plain brown suits. Between them stood Lord Ruglen looking stunning in his dark blue, embroidered silk suit. Stunning. The only word she could think of to describe him. Upon seeing her he bowed slightly, and approached her. 

"Miss Elliott." 

"Lord Ruglen," she replied as civilly as she could. 

"Has your answer changed?" he asked. His breath stirred her hair. 

"No," she whispered. 

"Are the terms still satisfactory to you?" 

"To know my sister will not have to lose the only home she has ever known is a great comfort to me. In my eyes, your offer is most generous." Their faces were close. Too close for comfort. "I think I have yet to fully appreciate the consequence of becoming your wife, my lord, even if it is in the terms of a wager. Perhaps it is your answer that is changed, my lord? If that is so, tell me, and you will find my sister and I will ask nothing of you. I would rather work in a factory in Manchester than have you accuse me of this. I did not instigate this, my lord." 

"No, but is it not opportune?" 

"Of course, I will not deny it, but do you not profit also?" 

Lord Ruglen tilted his head graciously. "If we are agreed, then shall we proceed?" 

Maddie placed her hand in his proffered one and allowed him to lead her to the Rector, their discord for that one moment forgotten. 

**** 

What did she expect? Love? That Lord Ruglen showed her no feeling was not his fault; after all, he promised nothing more than he had already delivered. 

Even in the shadowed dimness of the coach, Maddie kept her gaze consciously averted from his face, convinced he would mistake any scrutiny for smug satisfaction. The vows were now made, and his mother's ring graced her finger. What more was to be said? 

Yes, she was now Madeleine Ruglen, The Right Honourable The Countess of Ruglen, who in six months would become Madeleine Norbury, The Most Honourable The Marchioness of Norbury. But of what use were her titles and her new found wealth if she could find no pleasure in them? Theirs was a marriage of selfish convenience. She sighed softly. The journey to Scotland would be tedious and long. Were they to share it in complete silence? Lord Ruglen abruptly addressed her, and her eyes caught his across the dappled darkness. Apparently not. 

"So, you are now countess, madam, and soon to be marchioness. How does it feel to have what you desire most?" 

Hollow. Empty. 

He mocked her, his intent was clear. 

"I think you equate my desires with your expectations, my lord." 

"Am I mistaken?" 

"Very much so." 

"I think not. Why would it matter to you whether or not I become Marquess, if not to profit from my weakness, from my desire? Well, have you nothing to say?" 

"There is much to me you do not know, my lord, but know my reasons are less simple than you profess them to be." 

"Enlighten me, madam." 

Love. Would he understand love? "I am afraid I cannot, my lord." 

"Pity. I had hoped you would lessen the boredom of this journey." 

"I have been engaged as your wife, my lord, not your fool." 

"In this instance they are one and the same." 

Maddie closed her eyes, and a slow tear rolled down her face. With a start, she opened them again as she felt Lord Ruglen's finger trace her tear. 

"What would you expect from me, madam?" he said. "Understanding, or love? Though, both would be a presumption, do you not agree?" 

Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, and her breath escaped on a startled sigh at the accuracy of his understanding. 

**** 

She stared out the coach window and onto the cultivated landscape rushing past, luscious and fresh under the bright April sun. 

Their journey had taken close to a week to complete; they stopped but twice, and though Lord Ruglen showed her courtesy, and proved to be an attentive partner and generous host, what she silently hoped, what she secretly longed for, would never be. 

Her eyes focused once more on the extensive acres of picturesque parkland meandering like a green river, far into the distance to lap at the foot of heather clad hills. She flicked her gaze to Lord Ruglen, whose own hadn't left her face. 

"Dunlevy?" 

"For the last twenty minutes. Yes." 

Maddie bit her lip, realising the futility of attempting to draw him into any kind of polite conversation. The latter part of their journey he had borne in silence; a tense, cold silence that seemed in no danger of tempering, even though they neared his home. 

Cameron had wanted her, so much so he abused her into submission, and, yet, Lord Ruglen, who, strangely, resembled Cameron in so many ways, could barely stand the sight of her. 

What was wrong with her? She had wanted Cameron, but notably, with only half the intensity she now desired Lord Ruglen. Was she cursed? Doomed to love a man who abused or despised her? 

The coach slowed, and a swathe of moving shadow alerted her to the broad arch through which they traversed. They emerged again into frosty sunlight. 

Maddie resisted the urge to plunge her head out the window and take in the magnificence she expected to see. For now, she would content herself with her view of the topiary garden slipping leisurely by her window. 

The coach drew to a halt, and her heart skipped a beat. She sat stiffly, waiting, wondering, conscious of his awareness of her uncertainty. 

A footman opened the coach door allowing a rush of light into the interior and across Lord Ruglen's amused face. The footman waited politely, rigid and quiet. 

Lord Ruglen eased from his seat, and made to exit the carriage. Then, suspending that motion, he paused briefly bringing his mouth close to her ear. 

"Remember our contract," he whispered. "Do not complicate it with emotion." 

"I am aware of my position, my lord. If I was in any doubt, I am no longer. I will not surpass it." 

"Good. Now, we understand each other." 

"We do, indeed, my lord, but I maintain my innocence in any conspiracy with the Prince Regent." 

"I applaud your consistency, madam, but I have allowed myself to be deceived twice. I will not do so again." 

Maddie lowered her gaze to the full lips now poised above hers. How was she to disguise her emotions? Lord Ruglen quickly withdrew, and alighted from the coach. She recovered her sensibilities just in time to accept his proffered hand, and the moment her eyes rested on Dunlevy Castle, she thawed. 

The magnificent beauty of the unusual pink limestone façade glistening in the morning light quite took her breath away, though she was careful to mask her enthusiasm. She turned her eyes upwards to the circular towers gracing the four corners of the courtyard, to the wide and grand avenue on which they had travelled, adjusting her gaze once more to the high arch through which they had come, to slowly return them to Lord Ruglen's face. 

"I will be sure to ask Burke to give you the grand tour," he said, apparently reading her expression. 

She was led along a line of hastily assembled servants, whose names she doubted she would remember, to the grand entrance hall. 

The fine oil paintings, long case clock, statuettes, dark oak chairs, tapestries, carpets and fireplace gave an immediate sense of homely civilised living in an area so remote and far removed from civilisation as Dunlevy was. 

"I hope, madam, you will find all to your taste." 

"I am sure I will, my lord." 

"Dunlevy Castle, you will discover, is large enough to avoid us ever having to be in the same room again." 

Maddie fought the tears threatening to materialise, and raised her chin defiantly. "My lord." 

"Come." She followed him through a short alcove at the end of which was a thick oak door. "My mother is undoubtedly apprised of our arrival, and is anxious to make your acquaintance." 

**** 

Lady Norbury sat regal and proud, and obviously not a little irked by her son's arrival. His engagement, and subsequent marriage, undoubtedly came as a great shock. She studied Maddie across a great divide. 

"Come forward," she ordered. 

Maddie felt a little uncomfortable under the weight of Lady Norbury's scrutiny, yet she didn't falter. Stepping further into the well-proportioned drawing room she made her way slowly past larger than life portraits on panelled walls and Grinling Gibbons carvings to the high back chair with gilt woodwork and crimson covering. Her shoes made not a sound against the polished oak floor. 

Lady Norbury placed her glasses to her eyes. Her surprise registered inelegantly in the sudden fall of her mouth and the length of time she sat just staring at Maddie. At length, she composed herself, and turned her gaze inquisitively to her son.  

Lord Ruglen shrugged his shoulders off-handedly. "It was an interesting wager I could not ignore." 

"Indeed," Lady Norbury replied, raising her eyebrows sharply. "Does she know?" 

"I think you will find, madam, Countess Ruglen knows a great deal." 

Maddie raised her eyes to his. Leaning nonchalantly against the crested fireplace, he quietly studied her. Her gaze fell to the crest. 

"My family crest," Lord Ruglen said, following her gaze. Maddie touched the necklace she still wore; the crowned heart. 

"I assume you have other, more, suitable attire," Lady Norbury said, breaking the silence. 

Maddie clasped her hands tightly to her stomach. She still wore Sarah's dress; her wedding dress. How utterly demoralising, though, she had kept it clean, and spent a great deal of time on her toilette. 

"No, my lady," she murmured shakily, "but Lord Ruglen has assured me material. I am skilful with needle and thread. I will be able to make my own clothes, my lady." 

"Nonsense. You are Countess Ruglen now, and though you do not yet dress the part, I expect you at least act the part. We have servants for that kind of thing. We must prepare you a proper wardrobe. Though you give us very little time." 

"My lady?" 

Lady Norbury rose. "For the ball, my dear. Did you think you would become Countess Ruglen and it would remain a quiet affair? I will have the seamstress come to your chamber. She must begin at once to prepare you a ball gown." 

"Yes, my lady." 

Lady Norbury moved about the room. "Walk with me," she insisted. "Do you know who they are?" she asked. 

Maddie joined her to stand before two large and very severe portraits. Her eyes roamed the royal faces staring with disapproval down at her from on high. Et tu, James? 

"King James and his Queen, Anne of Denmark," she replied, glad of her father's insistence that she should study history. Never before had it been of such invaluable use. 

"And these?" 

The resemblance to Lord Ruglen was unmistakable. 

"Family portraits," she said, giving answer to Lady Norbury. 

"Yes. Our proud ancestral heritage. And when Ruglen becomes Marquess his portrait will also grace this gallery along with that of his Marchioness, though I had thought to see Emily, the late Countess Ruglen hanging there." 

Maddie lowered her gaze. Emily. All fell into place. 

"We have a long and exulted history at Dunlevy Castle. As long as you are Marchioness, you will do nothing to bring shame on the House of Douglas. Am I clear?" 

"Yes, my lady." 

Chapter Six 

The soft lilt of music, the lively sliver of swishing skirts; the sound of laughter amidst a maelstrom of shapeless faces. Familiar. Tangible. Only, it was not a happy time. She was petrified. Lady Norbury had already sent two messages insisting on her presence. 

She peered from her hiding place above the stairs into the Great Hall at the festivities below. Either Lord Ruglen was forgiven his fault with regards his marriage to her, or they all came to see her; a house full of guests eager to meet her; to scrutinise her, dispense thought and satisfy curiosity. How Lord Ruglen's wife could be Lord Ruglen's wife. 

She had seen no portraits of Emily in the castle, so she could neither confirm nor dismiss the strength of the resemblance, but she did catch the servants staring or giving her a double take. 

"Go on, my lady. You look lovely." Maddie spun to Rose, her maid—the maid Lady Norbury had insisted attend her this evening. 

"Really?" 

"Yes, my lady. Really." 

She smoothed her hands down her white satin low cut, short sleeved dress and touched a nervous hand to her hair, then peeked once more down the stairs. Fortunately, she declined the ubiquitous headdress with ostrich feathers and opted for the simple white ribbon threading her fashionably styled hair. A final tug on elbow length gloves and a shake of her paisley shawl, and she was ready to descend into the lion's den. 

For a brief moment, she stood poised at the top of the elegant, geometric stairs, openly regarding the sights and sounds beneath her. Her gaze found Lord Ruglen's. 

A faint smile played about his lips as he acknowledged her politely. Extricating himself from the gentleman to whom he was engaged in conversation, he positioned himself at the bottom of the stairs and waited for her to make her entrance. Slowly, she descended. 

For eight days, she had held her side of the bargain. No emotion. But seeing him standing there, was nearly her undoing. Handsome in his immaculate linen shirt with high collar and perfectly tied cravat, exquisitely tailored plain dark coat and snugly-tailored pantaloons of the same rich hue. His hair was still long, and she realised she liked it that way, falling in soft waves to his collar. His eyes sparkled. With mischief? Affection? Maddie wasn't sure, but she knew to be on her guard on an evening such as this when wine was apt to be plentiful and liberally appreciated. 

But she needn't have worried. Whatever reservations she imagined were quickly dispelled. Lord Ruglen proved attentive, and played the part of husband well. Politely and warmly he introduced her to the Haut Ton, and not once did he leave her side.  

**** 

That night, she returned to her chambers feeling elated. She had danced. They had danced. Not the high-stepping, heel-clicking country jig, but slow, intimate, sensual. Had it been his intention to humiliate her with such a scandalous display, then the joke was on him. If he thought she would flee from the intimacy, he was wrong. She welcomed the feel of his arms about her, his mouth close to hers, his heart beating against her own, his eyes devouring hers. He breathed her in, and in that moment their souls connected. 

She could still hear the music, feel his touch, smell him. Lord Ruglen...Her husband. She spun about the room, avoiding Rose's light-hearted attempts to get her out of her dress and loosen her hair. 

"He danced with me, Rose." Suddenly, she stopped spinning, and clasped her hands to her heart. "He danced with me, and it was wonderful. More than I have dreamed." 

Reaching out, Maddie pulled Rose close to her, and slid her right arm about Rose's waist. "Like this," she instructed, and placed Rose's left hand against her right shoulder. Her left hand held Rose's right hand. 

"But, I've never seen a gentleman dance so close to a lady, madam." 

"It's a dance from Vienna called the waltz," Maddie answered. In awkward unison, she spun Rose about the room. "We did, Rose, and it was wonderful. Just the two of us oblivious to one and all." She gently released Rose. 

"Madam, are you all right?" 

"Yes. I am suddenly very tired. That is all." 

Sensible caution had replaced her elation. The light of morning, she feared, would see this night disappear like the tenuous bubble she knew it was. 

For the first time since her arrival at Dunlevy Castle, she didn't cry herself to sleep, though the memory of Lord Ruglen´s touch did nothing to assuage the empty feeling in her heart. How was she to survive three years of his indifference, when every touch, look and word only served to remind her she was still no closer to having what she truly wanted? 

The wine she sipped took its nocturnal effect, freeing her inhibition and heightening her senses to the feel and smell of her body bathed, oiled and perfumed and lying on a bed of crisp white cotton sheets. Her hands roamed her skin, following the silky line of nerve endings from the tip of her breasts to the aching bud between her thighs. 

A harsh voice hissed maliciously in her ear wrenching her from her reverie. 

"Hello, Maddie. Did you miss me?" 

Cameron? 

Her eyes flew open, but saw nothing. Her startled scream became stifled against the hand smothering her mouth and cutting of her air. Panic scorched through her as she struggled against her assailant, and struggled to breathe. 

"Do not try to fight me," he said. "You cannot." 

With one swift movement the sheet covering her modesty was torn aside exposing her nakedness. His mouth closed about her nipple, sucking and tugging at the ripe peak until it tightened brazenly in response. Tears rose in her eyes and fell down her face, as his mouth sought her other nipple that, too, responded to the skilful touch of his tongue. 




Fairytale Bride Ch. 05



His hand loosened, and she could finally breathe. Taking advantage of this sudden opportunity, Maddie bit down into the soft flesh of hand hovering close to her mouth, and before he could react she sucked air into her lungs and let out a loud, piercing scream. 

Frightened, but holding the silhouette in her line of sight she scrambled from the bed. Her back pressed against the wall, she watched the figure climb leisurely from the carved, four-post mahogany bed. 

"This is not over, Maddie," he said, and by the time the room door burst open, he was gone. 

**** 

"A mouse?" 

Lord Ruglen lifted the candle, he held, high between them, and Maddie saw, in the briefest of moments, the challenging lift of his eyebrow refuting her claim before he blew out the flame. Her eyes adjusted again to the moonlit shadows, and focused on the brightness of his. 

"Leave us," Lord Ruglen commanded Rose, who'd hastened behind him. 

Maddie shifted her gaze behind Lord Ruglen's bare chest, and nodded his request into Rose's wide and querying eyes. 

The door closed softly, and Maddie returned her gaze to Lord Ruglen's steady own. She pulled the sheet consciously tighter about her naked body. 

"Those bruises on your neck did not come from a mouse," Lord Ruglen stated quietly. 

"No," Maddie said, with a slow shake of her head. "I believe it was a rat." 

"You jest, at a time such as this?" 

"And what would you have me do, my lord? Turn to you for comfort, and find none?" She hung her head, hiding the tears falling down her face. 

"What happened?" 

A low sound echoed through the room, and it took her a few moments to realise she was laughing. 

"Would you like details, my lord? Why not wait a few hours. I am sure your choice of lover will be good enough to supply you with every little detail." Her voice hardened. "Was I the spoils of another wager, my lord? Is that why you showed me such consideration tonight? Danced with me. Make me believe you..." She faltered, then taking a deep breath addressed him once more. "You do not want me, I understand that, but should I decide to take a lover allow me the courtesy of choosing him myself." 

Lord Ruglen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You cannot think me capable of such depravity." 

"I can, and I do." 

"Why? Because you are determined to believe the worse of me?" 

"As you do of me?" Maddie parried coldly. "To you I am nothing but a wager already won, but I feel, my lord, even if you do not. I hurt—" 

"Did he...hurt you?" Her eyes flew to the brightness of his. 

"What?" 

"Did he hurt you?" 

Maddie turned away from him. Her shoulders shook lightly as she began to cry. She felt him even before she heard him step towards her. His warmth engulfed her, and this time she couldn't resist, she leaned back into his naked arms. 

"You hurt me," she whispered. 

"I know." 

"Why? Because of Emily? Did she hurt you? I have not deceived you. Our paths crossed, and I know for no rhyme nor reason why I should resemble her, or you..." 

In silence, he scooped her into his arms and carried her across the room. She buried her face against his neck, afraid to let go. 

In the middle of the large bed, Maddie relaxed against him, the sheet having long fallen from her body. Her movements languid, her limbs draped about his, she delighted in the feel of his skin against hers. 

"If this is a game, my lord. I beg you, stop." 

Lord Ruglen caught her chin between his fingers, compelling her eyes up to his. 

"This is no game, my lady." His eyes roamed the bruises on her neck, and his finger gently followed. "Believe me I had no hand in this." 

Maddie closed her eyes against the improbable, against the impossible, against what her body intuitively knew to be true, and her mind substantiated with infallible clarity. Hello Maddie. Did you miss me? 

"What is it? You are trembling." 

She opened her eyes, and traced a finger across his scar. 

"The tip of a French sword, my lady." His beauty was marred, but in no way was he the ugly one. "Dance with me," she whispered. "Please." 

"If we do this, we can never divorce." 

"I do not wish a divorce, my lord." 

His head lowered, slowly, ever so patiently, and his lips touched hers instantly breaking the contract between them. On a sigh, she parted her lips allowing his tongue entry into the welcoming warmth of her mouth. 

His fingers leisurely brushed the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, tempting her to shift her hips impatiently, guiding his hand higher to their apex. 

His mouth sought her breasts, lingering at their tender peaks, slowly kissing and teasing until her nipples contracted into delicious berries that he drew deep into the sensual cavern of his mouth. Maddie cried out for his possession, but he paid her no heed, continuing his slow, tormenting exploration of her. 

His hands and mouth took control of her senses, heightening her expectations, her desires and her passion, and when his tongue savoured the silky folds of her Siren's body, she came undone. Eyes closed, she trembled softly beneath him. 

His mouth claimed hers once more and she moaned, tasting her sweetness on his tongue. His kiss, gentle at first, became urgent, demanding, needing. She returned it, fervently matching his desire with her own until her body rekindled with fiery emotion. Pressure mounted between her thighs and every fibre of her body screamed for a second release. 

His hunger, too, threatened to explode, and Maddie felt the pulsating, expanse of his erection nestle the entrance of her womanhood. Inch by inch he opened her, filled her, traversing the heated path to the heart of her passion, driving her to the point of no return. 

With long, firm strokes he loved her, deep and ardent effortlessly rousing the receding waves of her orgasm, intensifying the vibrant aching pressure of her desire until liquid fire erupted through them like a healing flame. 

He lay with her until she fell asleep, and in the morning he was gone. 

**** 

In the throes of a deep sleep she fought to breathe, her arms flaying, her legs kicking. Her lungs painful in her need to draw breath. That same hand smothered her mouth, tightening its grip, another squeezed her throat. Then, suddenly she could breathe. 

Her eyes flew open and taking long, shaky, grateful breaths she struggled upright, removing her hair from about her throat...then she stilled. At the foot of the bed was a dog. A huge, grey dog looking at her with wide, protective eyes. Next to it lay a letter. Quickly grabbing it, she read: Allow me to present Barney, my lady. Know he will ensure your safety in my absence. I am in grave need of wedding cake. Affectionately, Ruglen. 

She eyed the well-groomed mutt a moment longer before reaching out and scratching him behind his ears: Affectionately, Ruglen, she murmured sadly. 

There was still much to say, but much, too, had already been said last night. 

He'd called her Emily.



Fairytale Bride Ch. 06



With Barney at her side, Maddie ambled through the vast woodland garden behind the castle, past the bowling green and down to the small stream—the Marr Burn—gurgling behind it. Across the stream was a hill, and running down the other side of it was the Cascade. She couldn't see it, but she could hear it, the wild rush of water coursing down the hillside to the Marr Burn below. 

The Cascade, her sanctuary, her peace, in these last days, from the isolation and loneliness within the castle. She'd yet to see a great deal more of the estate, but she already knew the Cascade would remain her favourite retreat. Every moment of her free time, she sat either hiding her humiliation after yet another unsatisfactory encounter with Lady Norbury—from Lady Norbury's point of view—or summoning her courage to, again, face such an encounter. She'd endured lessons in dance, decorum, posture...everything...crammed into the eight days before the ball. At least, it had been worth it in the end. 

She reached the quaint bridge spanning the Marr Burn, and crossed it, calling Barney to heel. With effort and determination, she climbed the narrow path which meandered the heather clad hill. On the other side was the Cascade, and the weeping willow, whose leaves in the brightness of the early light would be shining silver and white. 

Barney raced on, and she stopped to pick a handful of heather. The Cascade was close; she could smell it—its purity, its freshness, its cleanliness. Lifting her skirts, she ran after Barney. In the distance, she saw her willow...and...a dark blur close to the water's edge. Barney? The blur moved, pushing itself into an upright stance. Maddie slowed. 

Her instincts warned her before the face registered on the inner workings of her brain. Shock and incomprehension stole time, and she was still rooted to the spot even as he closed the gap from afar. 

"Hello, Maddie." 

Her body hadn't lied. Every fibre of her being knew him last night, though she wanted to deny it, accusing her husband of playing a sordid game. 

"Cameron..." Her lips said his name, yet her brain was slow to register it. "Cameron..." Too late, she turned to flee. Caught against him, her awareness flooded her disbelief, and she struggled to break free of his hold. Suddenly, she stilled as her eyes rested on Barney lying motionless on the ground. Next to his blood soaked head, a large rock. 

"No," she moaned. "No." 

Cameron's fingers wound in her hair as she tried to look away, forcing her face back to the dog lying dead on the ground. 

"Barney was mine," he ground out. "He betrayed me. Now he has paid the price. Just as you will." He spun her to look at him, his fingers digging painfully into the upper flesh of her arms. "Last night, I saw you. In his arms. Giving yourself to him with abandon, enjoying his touch, crying out with pleasure meant for me." 

Maddie winced. "He is my husband." 

Cameron's fingers tightened against her scalp. "I was your first, Maddie. I taught you love." 

She shook her head, no longer caring what he would do to her. "That was not love. You hurt me and threatened me, knew my body well enough to make it climax in your arms...make me want you. I confused all those things with love." Tears fell down her face. "Now, I know different. You have never had my heart, Cameron. Never." 

She didn't see his hand arch above her, but felt its stinging venom as it came down hard against her cheek. Her head snapped backwards, and she saw black. His voice reached her, low and muffled through her befuddled brain. 

"You ungrateful trollop. Do you truly believe my brother will change, love you because of one night? He does not love you, and he never will. His heart has long been buried with Emily." His voice softened, and his hand touched her stinging cheek. "I love you, Maddie. Why will you not accept that?" 

Her head throbbed, and her eyes focussed painfully. "Brother?" 

His lips tenderly teased hers. "Yes, Maddie," he smiled callously. "Have you not figured that out, yet?" 

He pulled her mercilessly behind him uncaring if she lost her footing, or her shoe, uncaring that every step caused untold pain. Half dragging her past the willow tree, he pulled her through woodland covering the steep hill above the Marr Burn until they reached a small, neat clearing. In its midst, barren and desolate, sat a rustic timber summer house. 

"No one comes here anymore," he said, yanking her unceremoniously in the direction of the house. He kicked the door open, and then looked down at her. "Not since Emily's death." 

Her fear mounted. 

**** 

Maddie rubbed her wrist. Her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and though she felt Cameron somewhere watching her, she couldn't see him. He was going to kill her; that much, she knew. 

"You do not understand." 

"No." Her throat was dry, painful. Her voice, hoarse. 

His footsteps echoed slow and menacing about her. "You do not know what it is like to have the power of death within your grasp. I do. And so does Breannan." 

"Cameron—" 

"Eadan. My name is Eadan, Lord Ruglen, Marquess of Norbury upon my father's death. At least I was." 

"But, Ruglen—" The footsteps stopped, and Maddie turned blindly searching the room for an inkling of Cameron's—Eadan's—whereabouts. His fingers suddenly wrapped about her throat, tightening until the air dislodged from her lungs, and she could no longer draw breath. Her heart expanded in her chest, pounding hard in its need to explode. She was going to die, and there was nothing she could do to change her fate. 

"You do not understand," Eadan bellowed. "You know nothing." He abruptly released her, and she gasped, hungry for air. Falling to the ground, she reached for her throat. "He was a mere scullion, and for that my family locked me away. Can you believe that? They could care less about the rats and the dogs and the deer and the cats, but for the death of a scullion I was punished and made to forfeit my right as heir. I was twenty years old, Maddie. My entire life before me. Can you imagine what it is like to have it taken away?" 

"Do you honestly expect me to feel sympathy for you? What about the boy? He was a child. A human child. Can you not imagine how his parents must have felt?" 

"No. But that is the point, Maddie. I do not feel. I did not feel until I met you, and held your virgin body in my arms and made slow, sweet love to you." She felt his hand stroke her hair. "Breannan has again incurred something of mine by default. Why is that? Come now," he cajoled, "you are a free thinking, intelligent woman, and not of this era. You understand the universe, acknowledge its mystical, magical and mysterious side. You have experienced it. It brought you to my brother. Why do you think that is, Maddie? Why are you married to a man who is, to all intents and purposes, me? Is it because I am your heart's desire?" His lips lowered to her ear. "Am I whom you truly desire, Maddie?" 

"No." 

"You lie, madam." 

"I am in love with your brother. He does not love me, I realise that, but I love him." 

"If you love him, you will lie to me, Maddie, and save his life." 

Eadan stood and walked away, leaving her lying alone on the cold floor in the darkness, pondering his words. A sudden swish of sound was quickly followed by a flood of light. Another swish of fabric, and more light. She squinted at the sharp brightness filling her eyes A soft moan caught her ear, and she turned her head. 

"Breannan," she breathed. 

Lord Ruglen sat on a chair in the middle of the room, his hands tied behind his back, his feet bound, his eyes covered with his own cravat. His head slumped to his chest, and blood oozed from a wound at his temple. A small pulse pushed fresh blood from the wound, and her heart somersaulted with joy. He was still alive. 

"Breannan," she gasped again, rising unsteadily to her feet. She moved quickly to him. Her tear-filled eyes caressed his face, her fingers touched his hair. She called his name softly and removed the blindfold. Then, ripping a swathe of her undergarment she bandaged his head. "My life for his, is that it, Eadan?" It surprised her how calm she sounded. 

"Yes. In three days there will be another blue moon. I want you to come with me, back to your time. Only you can stop the insanity in me, Maddie. I need you." He fixed his gaze on a point behind her shoulders, and Maddie was compelled to turn about. "I have travelled through time to find you, to find us." 

She raised her eyes to the portrait of a woman staring down at her, and though the face was still half in shadow she felt compelled to see it. She walked slowly forwards and pulled back the still drawn curtain. Light illuminated the shadows. Light illuminated the portrait. 

Maddie stepped back, narrowing her eyes at the uncanny likeness between herself and the woman in the portrait, whose elegant fingers touched a delicate necklace with a gold crowned heart painted at her throat. 

"That is not me, Eadan." 

"It is you, my love. Do not be afraid." 

"I would know..." 

Eadan closed the gap between them, and wrapped his arms about her. "You loved me upon sight, Maddie, because we loved once before. As Emily, you saved me in my world , and I ask you to save me again. Be mine as you once were mine." 

"As Emily, did I betray Breannan?" 

"You did not betray your heart, my love." Maddie closed her eyes against the tears trailing down her face. That means, yes. 

"We met, here, on the night of the blue moon when I wished myself free of my prison and for a woman to ease my pain. You were in my thoughts, Emily. My brother's bride. Night after night, for months, you came to me, soothing my soul, taming my demons...loving me. You were not afraid of me, then. When you died, I was lost and alone without you, Emily." 

The blade he held against her cheek scraped across her skin and Maddie held her breath feeling its pressure. Suddenly, she was propelled forward as a huge weight slammed into them from behind knocking the wind from her lungs. 

She lay for a moment, not daring to move, her mind a whir. Her legs were trapped beneath a tremendous weight. She called Eadan's name. There was no reply. Turning her body as best she could, she glimpsed him slumped above her, his face buried against her hip. Lying heavily against him was Breannan, his arms and legs still strapped to the chair, his head tilted awkwardly. 

Summoning every ounce of her strength, she pushed and pulled and wiggled. Breannan's soft moan gave her added impetus, and suddenly she was free, scrambling towards him, untying his arms, untying his legs. Desperation increased her strength, and she pushed him to one side relieving his dire position. Blood oozed from the wound to his head. 

Tearing another swathe of cloth from her undergarment her eyes caught Eadan's ashen face lying in a pool of blood. The knife he held was embedded deep in his neck. Maddie briefly closed her eyes, then placing her fingers against his, closed Eadan's deadened gaze. Forcing her mind back to Breannan, she quickly bandaged his head. 

She called his name. 

Stark and clear and unexpected, his eyes flew directly into hers startling her for a few seconds. His hand caught her wrist. 

"My lord," she breathed. 

He held her gaze. "Madeleine." 

She felt her face flush. She liked the way he looked at her, liked the way her name sounded on his lips. 

But he was hurt; his eyes drifted close. "You are blushing." 

Maddie reluctantly eased her wrist from between his relaxed fingers. Now was not the time to be flirtatious. 

"You must not sleep. Please, Breannan, stand up." She tugged at his shirt. "I cannot lift you by myself. You must help me, or you will die." 

His eyes opened once more into hers. "Would you have me live, Madeleine?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

"Ask me again when you are healed, my lord." 

"I will." He turned awkwardly, gradually struggling to his feet, leaning heavily on Maddie for support. "Where is Eadan?" he asked suddenly. Maddie hesitated, searching for words to speak. His eyes followed her gaze to the floor behind him. 

"Eadan is dead," she said. Breannan nodded his understanding. 

"Say nothing to my mother about this," he warned. 

"But—" 

"Eadan is already dead to us. We will have to bury him." 

"I will ask someone to come—" 

"No. We will have to bury him. I do not wish to have witchcraft added to the list of undesirable virtues of the House of Douglas, but when I am healed," Lord Ruglen bent his head close to hers, "I hope you will trust me enough to tell me everything." 

"You must see a doctor." 

"I think you know the kind of man my brother was—" 

"I have nothing to confess, my lord." 

His eyes penetrated her gaze. "Good. Still, I cannot leave him like this. Not even for one night." 

**** 

Maddie meandered the flower beds at the West Parterre smiling sadly as she listened to the whispering grass and murmuring flowers. Slowly, she made her way to the fountain basin in the middle of the garden, and, sitting on its ledge, raised her face to the midnight sky. The blue moon shone brightly. A crystal orb in the cloudless heaven. She breathed deeply. 

"Tell me what to do," she whispered. 

A soft, lilting voice gave answer: That I cannot. Your wish must be your own to make, Madeleine, but think well before you ask of me what it is you will ask of me. After tonight, I may not speak with you again. 

"Would you leave me now?" 

She spun abruptly at the sound of the familiar masculine voice behind her, and then almost immediately lowered her startled gaze to the ground. "I can stay no longer, my lord," she breathed, rising to her feet. Breannan drew closer, touching her with his warmth. 

"Why?" 

"Because I cannot give you what you want, and you cannot give me what I need." 

"And what do I want, Madeleine?" 

"Emily." 

"And what do you need?" 

You. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and hung her head. His fingers curled about hers. 

"I have heard tales of the blue moon, of its magic and the strangeness of men on nights such as this, though I have not believed until now. I was barely conscious, yet I heard you and Eadan speak—" 

"My lord—" He placed a finger beneath her chin compelling her eyes to his. 

"Did my name not come to your lips easily enough when you thought me fatally wounded? Why can it now be so difficult to say?" 

Because I love you. 

Maddie stepped shakily from within his embrace. "If the utterance of a name is as simple as you deem it to be, how is it you can mistake mine? The night of the ball, I gave you my body, my heart, my soul, yet you held someone else. Your body desired someone else. Your kisses meant for someone else." 

"I am guilty of that, and I own it, but when I first saw you in the woods I was dumbstruck by your resemblance to a woman I once loved with a passion, yet who betrayed me with my own brother. I wanted you, yet I hated you, too. Can you understand that?" He stepped closer. "The Prince Regent, too, recognised that fact and used it against me, forcing my hand. I hated that, too." 

"And the night of the ball?" 

"You were bewitching. The woman I once loved, and the woman I now love." 

"I cannot be Emily. I am not her, no matter how much you may wish it. Eadan was mistaken, and so are you." 

"I know that, now. Forgive me, and stay. Stay with me, Madeleine. Do not have me wake, and find you gone like some dream. Do not let it be as if nothing happened between us." 

Maddie raised her eyes to the blue moon that knew her heart better than she'd known her own and made her wish. 

"I will forgive you, my lord, if you tell me you have wedding cake," she smiled, levelling her gaze back to his. 

Lord Ruglen threw his head back and laughed. Steeling his arms about her waist, he spun her around until she, too, grew dizzy with delight. 

"Wedding cake? Madam, my own brother near kills me, and you ask for wedding cake." 

"No, I ask for this," Maddie returned. "The sound of your laughter, my lord." 

He touched her face gently. "Breannan." 

"Breannan," she repeated. 

"Then, you shall have it," he whispered against her lips. He pulled her close, moulding her body along the length of his. "I am healed." 

"As am I," she whispered back. 

His mouth claimed hers in a breathtaking kiss, and, there, in the garden, under the light of a knowing moon, they danced.