Trimagon Hall

TRIMAGON HALL by Josie A. Okuly

TRIMAGON HALL A Chippewa Publishing Publication, December 2005

Chippewa Publishing LLC 678 Dutchman Drive, Suite 3 Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin 54729

Available Formats: Adobe Acrobat Reader (PDF) Other available formats: Palm Doc (PDB), Rocket/REB1100 (RB), Pocket PC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB), hiebook (KML), iSilo (PDB), Mobipocket (PRC), OEBFF Format (IMP), Microsoft Reader (LIT)

TRIMAGON HALL Copyright © 2005 Josie A. Okuly Edited by Ricki Marking-Camuto Cover Art by Gin E. L. Fenton Proofed by Brandy Overton

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole, or in part, by any means, without the written consent of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination, or are fictitiously used. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

Prologue

He promised to meet her on the cliffs, but now it was almost dark. Where was he? She imagined the moment of their embrace and how happy she would be to see him again. The cliffs above the sea provided a perfect place to meet, especially at twilight when no one dared venture there. Her heart soared with anticipation when she heard footfalls approaching the cliffs. She pulled the hood of her cape down, allowing her golden hair to shimmer in the cold moonlight. As she stood waiting on the path, she shivered from the frigid wind, which swept in from the sea. She turned to him with a welcoming smile, but the smile died on her lips. The last thing her conscious mind registered was the dark cliffs retreating into the night as she fell to the jagged, merciless rocks far, far below.

Josie A. Okuly

Trimagon Hall

Chapter One

My gaze followed the elegant black carriage as it approached the train station. “I come from Trimagon Hall,” the wiry, old coachman said as he climbed down from the coach. “You be Miss Trenton, the new governess?” I smiled and nodded assent. “All this luggage be yours?” “Yes, it is.” He furrowed his brow and grunted with effort as he struggled to load my various pieces of luggage onto the coach. Eventually, he completed the task, and then held the carriage door open so I could enter. His aged but still limber form scrambled aboard the carriage. With a sharp flick of his leather whip, the horses left the station at a brisk trot. I took the opportunity to prop my head against one of the velvet cushions provided for the comfort of passengers, evidence of the prosperity of my new employer. I closed my eyes, and snuggled back into the yielding fabric, reveling in the sheer luxury of my transportation to Trimagon Hall. I awoke from a light doze as we entered a shadowy forest populated by a myriad of ancient-looking trees. The thick growth gave the illusion that nightfall was approaching although it was only a little past midday. Gnarled and twisted with age, some of the crowded trees resembled squat dwarfs; others reminded me of elderly men hunched over. Perhaps, in centuries past, young maidens danced with joyful abandon through this same forest. I could not picture myself running happily through these woods where the sun seemed to have no place. I preferred meadows and sunshine to this moist, claustrophobic world. I squinted as open countryside came into view, surprised at how happy I was to feel the sun on my face once again. Lulled by the movement of the carriage, I again fell into a light doze.

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I awoke as the coach rumbled across the cobblestone pathway that led to an imposing manse. Trimagon Hall had stood for five hundred years and I wondered how many secrets were buried within its massive walls of stone. The carriage rolled to a stop, and I found myself staring open-mouthed at the mammoth stone citadel. The town where I grew up might well have fit within those walls. “Miss Trenton?” A heavyset woman approached me as I stepped down from the coach. Her face bore a cross, ill-humored expression, and her voice was brusque and impersonal. “We’ve been expecting you. I’m Mrs. McTavish, the housekeeper. You’ve met my husband, the coachman.” Her words were polite, but her face did not soften as she studied me. Mrs. McTavish led me through a series of hallways that resembled nothing so much as a twisting maze. Everywhere I glanced, there were paintings of long-dead Trimagons. She ushered me into a luxurious study where a fire blazed in the hearth and the smell of leather and cigars permeated the room. A tall man stood in front of the window, his back toward me. He turned to face me and my eyes widened as I stared up at him. He appeared to be about thirty years old, and handsome in a dark, brooding way. His jacket molded itself to his broad shoulders and slim waist, but what held my attention were his deep blue eyes, which were almost violet in color. Long, thick eyelashes that any woman would envy framed his extraordinary eyes. “How do you do, Miss Trenton? I am Tristan Trimagon.” He held out a chair and I slipped into it gratefully for my knees had lost their strength. Somehow, I was able to return his greeting, but my mind was not there in the warm, welcoming study; no, it was out on the barren moors, living one of the romantic stories I had conjured up in my youth. In all of my stories, a mysterious highwayman saved me from certain death at the hands of even worse criminals. The man from my childhood dreams now sat across from me and expected me to carry on a civilized conversation with him. “I appreciate you coming on such short notice.” He studied me as he spoke and I blushed under his close scrutiny. “We find ourselves in need of a governess after the…” “I’ve been told the previous governess fell from the cliffs above the sea,” I interrupted, desiring to see his expression when he realized I knew about the incident. He favored me with a dark frown. “That was an unfortunate accident.” He shut his eyes and I could not read the expression in them. “My nephew is now in need of someone to teach him. Your references are impeccable, as is your training; I believe you will do nicely.” 3

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I wondered if his eyes deepened in color with his changing mood. I blushed as I realized he waited politely for me to speak. Perhaps he would attribute my flushed cheeks to the warmth given off by the roaring fire in the hearth. My fingers tightened around the small reticule I held. “I shall do my best to educate your nephew, sir.” The frown remained on his face. “I must warn you; Andrew is given to flights of fancy. At times, he has a vivid, overactive imagination.” “I should find it a dull business indeed to educate a child who lacked a vivid imagination; it is a gift which should be nurtured.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “I can see you are an unconventional young lady, much like…” He stopped himself then said, “I should be delighted to hear of your first day with my imaginative nephew. We dine at eight and I would have you join us.” A governess dining with the family? Such a thing was unheard of! He noticed my shocked expression. “We do not stand on ceremony here at Trimagon Hall. I have often wondered if a classless society would not be the answer to mankind’s problems.” “Are you perhaps an anarchist, sir?” “An anarchist?” He threw back his head and laughed with genuine pleasure. “Miss Isabella Trenton, I believe you will bring a breath of fresh air to this old pile of stones.” **** After Mrs. McTavish showed me to my room, she escorted me to meet my young charge. She left us alone in the nursery and I was able to study my new pupil. The child appeared small for his nine years, but he was blessed with large blue eyes, similar to his uncle’s though not as vivid in color. We talked of his education thus far and he showed me the books he had completed. Then he asked in a soft voice, “Are you going to disappear also?” I stared at him in surprise for a moment, unaware I had bitten down on my bottom lip until I tasted the salty tang of blood in my mouth. “What do you mean, Andrew?” “Like Miss Siobhan did; she was my last governess.” I wondered what they told him of her accident. “Your lip is bleeding.” I searched for a handkerchief in my reticule and wiped away the blood. Andrew’s eyes clouded with tears. “Miss Siobhan said she loved me, but she left without saying good-bye.”

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My own eyes swelled with unshed tears. “I’m sure Miss Siobhan loved you and didn’t mean to leave you without saying good-bye.” Why had Siobhan been on the cliffs that particular night? Had she strayed too close to the edge and fallen to her death? Was it indeed a ghastly accident? “It was because of him,” Andrew’s voice rose in anger. “Him?” I stared at his small, sad face, so full of grief. “The blue-eyed man. She made up a song about him. ‘My love has blue eyes, as blue as the sea.’ She taught me that song and she often sang it to me at bedtime.” With that, he ran from the room, leaving me to ponder the meaning of his words.

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Chapter Two

“May I present the ravishing Miss Trenton, our new governess?” With these words, Hayden Trimagon introduced me to the group assembled in the dining room. Sir Edmund Trimagon, Tristan’s father, sat at the head of the table and surveyed everyone with dull, rheumy eyes. To his left sat Hayden Trimagon, Andrew’s father and Tristan’s younger brother. Hayden had inherited the family’s blue eyes, but that is where his resemblance to his brother ended. His hair was blond, unlike his brother’s, and his eyes were a lighter blue. His countenance was sunny and he seemed something of a ne’er-do-well, unlike his brooding and serious brother. Mrs. McTavish told me the story of how Hayden’s wife, Lenora, fled from Trimagon Hall when Andrew was just a baby. Lenora had never adjusted to life in the cold, forbidding hall, and there were rumors she had run off with a lover. At Sir Edmond’s right hand sat Tristan Trimagon, and next to him sat the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Thanks to Mrs. McTavish, I knew this was Davina Glentyre, daughter of Sir Edmund’s dearest friend, Sir Reginald Glentyre. Sir Reginald was in India on business and had left his daughter at Trimagon Hall during his prolonged absence. I sat between Hayden Trimagon and the young Dr. James Landower, Sir Edmund’s physician, who lived in one of the nicer cottages on the estate. I was secretly grateful for Mrs. McTavish’s penchant for gossip, as I already knew something of the extended household of Trimagon Hall. James was an attractive man despite the deep lines of sadness that seemed etched beneath his light blue eyes. He smiled as he turned to me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I heard the new governess was quite beautiful, but in this case, the rumors were an understatement of fact.” Hayden’s grin was mischievous. “Word travels fast around this old pile of stones, especially when the news is of an exciting nature.” Four sets of blue eyes assessed me and it brought to mind Andrew’s childish song: My love has blue eyes, as blue as the sea. Was one of the men at this table the blue-eyed man Siobhan had loved? 6

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I also wondered about the relationship between Davina and Tristan. A shard of jealousy sliced through me as I studied her exotic beauty through lowered lashes. Once, I glanced up to find her gaze upon me, making me pleased I had chosen to wear a rich, green velvet gown that set off the auburn highlights in my hair and brought out the green flecks in my eyes. “We grew up together, the four of us,” Davina remarked to me during dinner. “Tristan, Hayden, James, and I were inseparable as children. I called them my Three Musketeers.” My gaze drew repeatedly to Tristan Trimagon even though I fought the attraction he aroused in me. Our eyes met across the table and I looked away. This really must stop, I chided myself. I was here for a purpose and it did not include flirting with the attractive scion of the Trimagon family. Hayden gave me a sideways glance. “At least Miss Trenton’s arrival has given the villagers something to talk about besides the Trimagon Legacy.” “The Trimagon Legacy?” I turned to him questioningly. Tristan’s face darkened and his voice held a warning. “Hayden…” “Of course,” Hayden continued, ignoring his brother, “no one likes a gruesome family secret better than I, but gossip was spreading like wildfire. It’s a good thing Tristan forbade the staff from discussing it any further.” “That’s enough.” Tristan’s voice was low and rough, as if torn from his throat. When he noticed everyone staring silently at him, he sighed and asked, “Can we enjoy our dinner without discussing these ridiculous local legends?” Conversation around the table resumed with no further mention of the objectionable topic. Curiosity piqued, my mind raced as I wondered how I could discover more about the mysterious legend. **** The next morning, I hurried to my window, flung it open, and inhaled deeply of the sweet, tangy scent of the sea. Exhilaration gripped me as I heard the waves crash against the rocks far below until I remembered how Siobhan had died, her body smashed against those rocks. I shuddered as I turned away from the view. That morning, I explored the rose garden. I followed the path through the stone wall enclosure until it ended at a black iron gate. Opening the gate, I found myself on a barren stretch of land overlooking the ocean, with cliffs that circled the sea in a horseshoe pattern. Their formidable bulk rose from the water like massive sentinels. There were no barriers to blunt the harsh wind’s invisible fingers, which tore at my cape. I hurried to the edge of the cliff and stared down at a tiny strand of pristine beach far below.

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Was this perhaps, the spot where she had met her death? Had she leaned forward and accidentally fallen to the rocks below? Or had she deliberately thrown herself over the edge? Why had she been out here at nighttime, the most dangerous time to explore the cliffs? The wind slammed against my body, yet I was reluctant to turn away from the hypnotic view. The waves battered the rocky face of the cliffs with unmatched fury. There seemed to be a lonely moan, which rose from the sea. I heard a voice behind me, but the wind carried away the words. Suddenly, I felt myself snatched off my feet and flung harshly to the ground, knocking the breath from my lungs. As I struggled to breathe, I turned to see Tristan lying beside me on the ground, his arm flung across my waist. He stared back at me, his breathing shallow, his complexion drained of color. His eyes were dark blue and furious. “Your eyes do change color,” I whispered. “Do you know how dangerous it is to stand on the edge of the cliff?” His voice was rough with anger. “Have you no sense, woman?” “I was staring down at the beach,” I stammered. “Surely there’s no harm in enjoying the view.” “You couldn’t be more mistaken.” His voice was curt. “Winter storms have weakened the ground near the edge. Didn’t you see the warning signs?” I found myself pinned by his dark good looks as he stared steadily at me. I lowered my gaze, but it took me a moment to answer him. “I didn’t see any warning signs.” I stood up, scanning the cliffs. “There are no signs.” His frown deepened. He seemed to frown constantly in my company. “My groundskeeper shall hear of this.” His eyes flashed fire and I felt sorry for the unknown groundskeeper who would surely receive a verbal thrashing for this lapse of duty. “The cliff face can give way at any moment,” he continued. “Last winter, six square feet of land crashed into the sea because of erosion.” “Is that how Siobhan Delaney died?” His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “We may never know. After she…after the accident, we found no evidence of erosion. This area is measured monthly and we discovered no changes in the land mass, but who can say for sure?” I shivered as I imagined myself standing on those six square feet of earth when it suddenly broke free and toppled hundreds of feet into the sea below. A wave of dizziness assaulted me. “I’m sorry.” I stumbled against him, my limbs suddenly weak. Once again, his arms were around me. I leaned against the bulk of his chest until the dizziness passed. His body was hard and strong and I felt safe and sheltered in the circle of his arms. He brushed a strand of hair from my face.

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“My little beauty.” I wasn’t sure if he actually spoke the words or if it was simply the shrieking wind playing havoc with my imagination. Time lost all meaning, as we stood huddled together on the cliff, the unrelenting wind buffeting our bodies. It seemed we were the only two people left on earth; nothing mattered but the here and now. His arms tightened around me and I raised my lips to his. “Is this a private party or can anyone attend?” I jumped at the sound of Davina’s voice. The mood broken, I pulled myself from Tristan’s embrace. Davina presented an alluring picture with her tall, trim figure outfitted in the latest style of riding habit. I sensed strength in her well-toned body, but she still presented a charmingly feminine appearance. “Tristan, you promised to ride with me this morning.” Her full lips formed a lovely pout. “Remember what I told you about the cliffs,” Tristan reminded me before turning on his heel to join Davina. “I shall,” I answered, but he was too far away to hear. Davina glanced at me over her shoulder, her gaze raking across my simple gown and threadbare cloak. As if satisfied my outfit could not compete with her ensemble, she hurried to catch up with Tristan. “You look like Cinderella before she met the prince and was rescued from her wretched life.” Hayden’s voice broke into my thoughts. He stood beside me, but I had not heard his approach. “You startled me.” “Did I? I could see you were distracted.” “I wasn’t distracted; it’s just that the sea was so loud I didn’t hear you.” “Your expression was bleak as you watched Tristan walk away,” he mused. “Have you perhaps fallen under the spell of my gruff, ill-tempered brother?” “He’s not ill-tempered.” I could have bitten off my tongue when Hayden raised an eyebrow. Why had I defended Tristan? Hayden’s mouth curved upwards. “I can see the spell had already been cast.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I did not want to admit I found Tristan fascinating. I knew nothing about him, and in some ways, he frightened me. “Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.” “I have no secrets.” I turned away from him and began walking back toward the garden. Hayden’s gaze was far too penetrating and he seemed to read my emotions with ease. He was an exceptionally attractive man and with very little effort, he could probably charm a naive young woman such as myself. “If I offended you, I apologize.” Hayden took hold of my arm, but I ignored him and continued walking. I reached the gate that led to the garden. 9

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“Would you like to hear the story of the Trimagon Legacy?” I stood frozen, my hand on the gate, as I stared up at him without speaking. “Ah, I could tell last night you were dying to hear the details.” I did not bother to argue. I was tired of bantering with him and now he had my full attention. “Let’s walk on the cliffs and I’ll tell you all about it.”

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Chapter Three

“The legend began over two hundred years ago.” Hayden looked out toward the horizon where blue sky joined gray sea in an uneasy alliance. “The master of Trimagon Hall had two sons and, as is sometimes the case, there was fierce jealousy between the brothers.” He scowled, making me wonder about the relationship he had with his own brother. “The older brother was jealous of the younger because the younger son was their father’s favorite. Still, the family managed to live in harmony until the brothers fell in love with the same woman.” We walked along the cliffs in silence. Gulls glided above us as they floated on invisible air currents. Their shrill screeches rose above the pounding roar of the waves far below our feet. I could not control my impatience to hear the rest of the tale. “And then what happened?” “The woman in question pitted the brothers against each other to win her favor, fanning their jealousy and hatred in the process. They say Claudette preferred neither of the Trimagon sons but was in love with the humble village rector. Her father determined she should marry well and forced her to choose one of the Trimagons as a husband. In the unfairness of her father’s edict grew the seeds of her revenge. Claudette set out to destroy the family who prevented her from marrying the man she loved. She determined to provoke one of the brothers to kill the other, using her charm, her serpent’s tongue, and every other weapon in her arsenal to accomplish this goal…and she succeeded.” I no longer heard the gulls above or the waves below. I leaned toward Hayden as he continued to speak. “One night, when a thick fog rolled in from the sea and settled across the cliffs like a smothering cloak, the older brother lured the younger to the cliffs. In a blaze of mad fury, Tristan pushed Hayden off the cliff.” 11

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I sucked in air. “Their names…” “Were the same as ours,” he finished my thought. We stared at each other for a long moment. I felt light-headed and longed for somewhere to sit down, but there was nothing around us except the cold, austere cliffs and occasional patches of skimpy grass fluttering in the strong breeze. Hayden’s gaze returned to the sea. “After Tristan killed his brother, his ardor for Claudette cooled, and he began to act strangely. At the time, no one knew he’d killed Hayden so they assumed he returned to the cliffs day after day to mourn his brother.” “What happened to Claudette?” “She married the vicar, but it was not a happy union. She was headstrong and impetuous, and they quarreled often. She died in childbirth, along with her son.” “What a sad end for her even though she was partly responsible for Hayden’s death.” He nodded. “What became of Tristan?” “As I mentioned, he began to act strangely and spent more and more time on the cliffs. His tortured imagination caused him to see things that weren’t there.” “What sort of things?” “A sea serpent, for one thing.” I arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” “He claimed a sea serpent began to terrorize him.” I searched his eyes for a twinkle of humor, a hint of mischief. Was he perhaps teasing me? His expression appeared serious and no laughter permeated his voice. “The sea serpent appeared to him each day at sunset,” he continued. “He never glimpsed the entire monster, only a scaly fin which rose from the water and a fearsome dull eye which seemed to mark him as a murderer—at least; those were the words he wrote in his journal. He believed the monster was sent to avenge the murder.” He paused. “The family discovered his journal after Tristan threw himself from the cliffs on the first anniversary of Hayden’s death. Shortly before he died, he wrote that jumping from the cliff was the only way he could make amends for killing his brother.” The wind whipped madly and I resisted the urge to cling to Hayden for support. An icy, slow-moving chill crawled up my spine. “After Tristan’s death, a legend grew around the incident. There were reports of villagers who had seen the serpent on certain foggy evenings. It was said the monster emitted a deep roar, a heart-stopping growl that turned a man’s blood to ice water.” I shivered as my gaze unconsciously turned toward the sea.

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Hayden’s mouth curved upwards. “Don’t worry, Miss Trenton. According to legend, the monster only shows himself after nightfall.” “Don’t be silly.” Embarrassment washed over me and I tried to cover my discomfort. “What a ridiculous story! How could the villagers see the serpent when it was foggy? It doesn’t make sense.” “Do legends have to make sense? They claim his eye was like a beacon that one could see for miles and lit up the area around him. After the death of the brothers, their mother died from grief and their father remarried, producing an heir in his old age. Another generation came and went and the legend faded away for many years. That is until…” “Until what?” My voice rose with impatience. “Until another set of Trimagon brothers came into the picture and another woman came between them. This time, there was a duel, and once again, the older brother killed the younger one. He fled to France and someone remembered seeing the monster in the sea the night before the duel. They say if something occurs twice, it becomes a tradition. It seems if a tragedy occurs twice, it begets a legend.” “Duels were common in the past,” I said. “People were killed. It was just a coincidence.” “That’s not how the villagers saw it. They began to see our family as somehow destined for tragedy. They even thought of a name for our misfortune, ‘The Trimagon Legacy.’ I think the locals enjoy working themselves into a superstitious fervor and shedding their cloaks of civility like so much excess baggage.” “You don’t think much of them, do you?” “The villagers?” He shook his head. “A gaggling, gossiping flock of magpies is what they are. My brother is the one who coddles the workers and tries to make their lives better. I’m an epicurean, a connoisseur; I believe no one person can change the world and so we must live life to the fullest and enjoy our blessings. The finer things in life interest me.” He ran a finger slowly down my cheek. “For instance, I always appreciate and admire beauty.” I stepped away from him. “At least Tristan tries to accomplish some good for the people who work for him.” “Oh, is it ‘Tristan’ now? After just one day, you are on a first name basis with my brother?” Scarlet color suffused my cheeks. “Forgive me…that was a slip of the tongue.” I tried to divert his attention. “Please tell me more about the legend; I find it fascinating.” “According to local gossip, a woman will always be the cause of the Trimagon downfall. If the sea serpent is spotted three nights in a row, then that means someone at the Hall will die before the month is over.” “What superstitious nonsense!” 13

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He nodded. “I agree, but you must remember the lives of these people are very dull. Trimagon Hall is the center of their grim existence and everything we do is grist for the rumor mill.” “Is that why your brother forbade the staff to discuss the…Legacy?” “Yes. Recently there has been talk, especially since the last governess…” His eyes flickered and I saw an expression in them I could not read. Did I detect remorse, sadness, and disillusion? “There had been talk…” I prompted him. “Forgive me, it’s just that Ms. Delaney was such a lovely young woman and I find it painful to speak of her.” Yes, she was lovely. I almost spoke the words, but held my tongue and waited for him to continue. “She was so beautiful and seemed to have a brave and free spirit. At times, I imagined her as Diana, the leader of the hunt, for she could be fearless in her defense of the weak and timid.” His words brought to mind an occasion when Siobhan was ten years old and I was seven. We were walking in the woods and came upon two boys throwing rocks at a sickly kitten. Siobhan had resembled a golden avenging angel that day as she chased the boys away from the kitten and took the creature home with her. To my young eyes, it was the bravest thing I had ever witnessed. That sickly kitten was now a fat, old tomcat that waited patiently for his mistress to return as he lay among the plump pillows scattered across Siobhan’s bed. Tears welled in my eyes because I knew Siobhan would never return to him; she was buried in our town cemetery. “Miss Trenton, are you all right?” Hayden stared at me with a surprised and concerned expression. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “It’s nothing; just the wind burning my eyes.” “For a moment, you looked as if you’d lost your best friend.” If only he knew. I turned away from him and struggled to compose myself. “It’s just that the story of Miss Delaney’s fall from the cliffs is such a tragedy. I’ve heard about it, of course. She was so young and had so much life ahead of her.” To my horror, I burst into tears. Hayden took me by the shoulders and bundled me into his arms. He laid my head against his chest. “Yes, it’s a sad story,” he said softly, “and you identify with the poor girl because you are also a governess. I sense the same strength in you that she possessed. Certainly, you are also exquisitely beautiful; as I’m sure you’ve been told numerous times.” I barely heard his words because of my loud sobs.

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“Miss Delaney was one of the finest people I ever knew.” Hayden’s voice deepened and I sensed he fought his own emotions. Had he perhaps been in love with Siobhan? I leaned against his chest as tears rolled down my cheeks and spilled onto the fine silk of his white shirt. Eventually, I raised my head to find him staring down at me. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “I didn’t mean to stir up your emotions with silly local legends.” “It’s quite all right. Everyone deserves a good cry now and then.” My mother often said this to me when I scraped my knee or cut my finger. “That’s funny,” said Hayden. “What’s funny?” “What you just said. Miss Delaney said the same thing to me once.” I bit my lip. “It’s a common saying, I believe.” “If you say so.” I was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking and attempted to steer it back to safer waters. “You mentioned the servants talked about Miss Delaney’s death; I got the impression it had something to do with the Trimagon sea serpent.” “More superstitious gibberish. After the accident, some fishermen claim they saw the serpent three nights in a row before Miss Delaney’s death.” “How convenient…after the fact.” Then a thought occurred to me. “According to the legend, a woman always comes between the Trimagon brothers before tragedy strikes. Miss Delaney was just the governess; she wasn’t involved with anyone in the family…” I stopped speaking when Hayden’s mouth tightened and the area around it grew white. “Are you all right?” I asked. “Forgive me, Miss Trenton, but I have an appointment I must keep. It has been a pleasure conversing with you. Good day.” He stalked away from me, his head lowered, his collar turned up. He walked slowly along the cliff as the relentless, ever-present wind whipped at his blond hair.

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Chapter Four

That night, sleep eluded me. I had spent a productive day with Andrew and had discovered, to my delight, the child was indeed quite imaginative and intelligent. My impressions of the Hall and the people I had met swirled around in my mind and kept sleep at bay. I got up from the bed and found myself standing at the open window staring down at the black, churning sea. The restlessness of the waves matched my mood for I had spent hours laying in bed, contemplating the ceiling and thinking about my conversation with Hayden. I had also spent an inordinate amount of time pondering the relationship between Davina and Tristan. They certainly made a striking couple, and I envied every smile he bestowed upon her. Still, there was a great deal not to like about her. Perhaps jealousy made me attribute to her a petulant turn of the mouth that did not bode well for anyone who crossed her. Her eyes stared out at the world a little too intensely, and her gaze was as piercing as polished diamonds on a sapphire background. Of course, my feelings for Tristan could have colored my judgment of her. What were my feelings for Tristan? I did not want to examine them for fear of what I might discover about myself. I tried to push away the image of his darkly handsome and brooding face, but it seemed to stay with me as if burned into my memory. We were from different social circles and those differences were an insurmountable mountain range, impossible to cross. Scions of wealthy estates did not marry lowly governesses devoid of pedigree. The two classes were not encouraged to mingle with each other in a social way; it simply was not done. Yet, in this household, they expected me to dine with them. Perhaps, on occasion, rules could be broken. I wondered if Siobhan had also taken her meals downstairs in the dining room. What had she thought of the Trimagon brothers? Her letters to me gave no indication of her feelings for anyone at the Hall. They had been full of descriptions of the

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countryside, the village, the forest. She had mentioned how intelligent Andrew seemed to be and she had described the cliffs. I did not want to think about the cliffs, so I speculated on the relationship between Siobhan and the Trimagon brothers. It was obvious Hayden had some feelings for her—either romantic or of a brotherly nature. How had Tristan felt about her? Again, jealousy stabbed at me. I tortured myself with images of them laughing together, locked in a forbidden embrace. I leaned out the window and strained to see into the fog-shrouded void. An amber glow appeared on the horizon. I blinked to make sure I was not seeing things, but when I opened my eyes, the amber glow still shone in the distance. It was closer now and growing brighter as it covered the distance to the shore. What could it possibly be? The glow now appeared oval shaped and grew larger with each passing moment, as if a giant eyelid were opening to expose more of the pupil beneath the lid. As the radiant orb approached, the fog receded and melted away as if it had never existed. Then, above the pounding of the sea, a deep, unfathomable roar reached my ears. Like a pathetic, cornered animal, I could not turn my gaze away from the amber light that drew ever closer or shut my ears to the reverberating roar that went on and on with increasing volume and intensity. The air around me seemed charged, and I felt I might burst into flames if I stood at the window for another moment. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the sea. In that second of illumination, the amber glowing light became apparent for what it was: a translucent, shimmering eye with an obsidian-colored pupil in its center. A second flash of lightning revealed a scaly, gray mass that rose out of the water and then plunged back into the dark abyss in one fluid movement. The monster disappeared under the surface of the sea and vanished into the briny void. I might have stood paralyzed at the window, staring out at the sea, for the remainder of the night was it not for the hands that suddenly encircled my throat and held me in a grip I could not escape. I clawed at my attacker, but I could not wrest myself from his hands as he squeezed the life from my body, my lungs robbed of oxygen. Darkness closed in on me. In a mindless panic, I grabbed for the curtains as the intruder lifted me off my feet and began pushing my body out the window. I clutched the curtains with both hands and held on to them as if I were a drowning man grabbing for a piece of driftwood. I found myself tangled in the silken material as I fell backwards out of the window. I stretched my arms out to grab something to break my fall, but there was nothing. The stone walls of Trimagon Hall flew by as I hurtled toward the sea. My body tumbled and twisted causing the silken cocoon of curtain material to tighten around me. I screamed for help but I knew it was hopeless. I screamed for Tristan with my last breath.

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I sat up on my bed and gasped for air. Somehow, the bedding had tangled around my body and around my neck. I had fallen asleep after all, only to be plunged into the most terrifying nightmare of my life. I looked toward the window where I had stood in the dream, but it remained shut tight and the curtains still hung above it. I closed my eyes, never having been so thankful to awaken from sleep. The nightmare had seemed so real and I knew it was because the story of the Trimagon Legacy had taken hold in my imagination. A loud knock sounded on my door. “Come in.” I noticed my voice was high-pitched and shaky. “Are you all right?” Mrs. McTavish stood in the doorway wearing a faded, pink housecoat. “Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” I was relieved to hear my voice sounded closer to normal. “You were screaming in your sleep.” She narrowed her eyes. “You were screaming Tristan’s name in your sleep.” “I’m sure you’re mistaken.” “That’s what it sounded like to me.” She rubbed at the corner of her eye and then yawned. I could see several missing teeth in her cavernous pink mouth. “I hope we’re not going to have trouble with you as well.” Her sharp gaze was an accusation. I was immediately alert. “What do you mean by trouble?” She pinched her lips together before she spoke. “There was some trouble with the last governess.” “Miss Delaney gave you trouble?” Mrs. McTavish shook her head. “Not me personally, but she did annoy Miss Glentyre with her flirtatious ways. Miss Glentyre is accustomed to being the center of attention, having the men folk to herself, as it were.” I arched a skeptical brow. “You’re saying Miss Delaney flirted with the men folk?” She considered the question for a moment. “Well, not exactly,” she finally admitted. “It was just that the men around these parts were drawn to her like bees to honey because she was friendly to everyone—a little too friendly, if you ask me. She didn’t know her place. She treated everyone the same, made no distinction between the workers and the family.” “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” “Some people might take friendliness as flirtation. It’s good to know your place in the world. In certain ways, she was…immodest, especially in her attitude toward men. Men can take a big smile the wrong way. Believe me, I know.” 18

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Her sour expression made me wonder if she had ever cracked a smile in her life. “You seem to have a good head on your shoulders.” She crooked her head to one side as she studied me. “At least that’s what I thought when you first arrived. Nevertheless, we can’t have you dreaming about the master of the house. It’s…unseemly.” “I can assure I wasn’t dreaming about…him.” I stood up, anxious for her to leave. “Mrs. McTavish, I swear to you I have no plans to do anything unseemly while I’m employed here.” The expression on her face did little to reassure me, and I wondered how long it would be until everyone on the estate knew I had screamed Tristan’s name in my sleep. “Well goodnight then, miss.” She turned to leave, but then turned back and gave me an unpleasant wink. “Try to have sweet dreams.” After she left the room, I threw my pillow at the closed door.

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Chapter Five

Because of the bizarre and chilling nightmare I had experienced, I was hesitant to fall asleep again. I began to read The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens, one of the cherished books I had brought from home. However, even the adventures of Mr. Samuel Pickwick could not hold my attention for very long. The glowing amber eye and the gray, scaly skin I had glimpsed in the dream continued to haunt my imagination. The image of Tristan and Davina laughing together haunted me in a different way. Finally, I gave up on reading and snapped the book shut. I decided I might try to locate the library and see what books it held. I wanted to read something that documented the construction and history of Trimagon Hall. This subject might also interest Andrew and be useful in our studies. I debated with myself for a while, still unsure if I really wanted to go downstairs in the middle of the night. Since my curiosity about the Hall was now aroused and I could not sleep anyway, I decided this was the perfect time to explore. I carried my candle as I walked down the hallway. Within a few moments, I realized my search would be fruitless; the residence was far too vast to explore without a guide. There was the possibility I would become hopelessly lost if I continued my quest for bedtime reading. I decided I should wait until morning rather than risk disorientation in the many connecting hallways. As I turned around to return to my room, the wind battered against this side of the Hall and produced a keen, much like an animal in pain. Suddenly, the wind abated and I heard a whimper on the staircase above me. Goose bumps materialized on my arms and I rubbed at the unwanted skin eruptions with my free hand, willing them to disappear. I raised my candle to see into the dark recess at the top of the stairs, which led to the nursery wing. The minuscule amount of light generated by the candle could not illuminate the top of the stairway. All was silent in the house and the wind no longer battered against the windows. I must have imagined the sound. As I turned away from the stairs and prepared to return to my room, the sound came again. 20

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I took a deep breath, held my candle high, and began to ascend the staircase. I had reached the third stair when a pale apparition floated down the steps toward me. I lost my footing and fell backwards to the floor, managing to hold on to the candle. I held it in front of me as if warding off some unspeakable terror. It was then that I realized the apparition was Andrew. He stood on the stairway in a white dressing gown and his eyes fixed on me. As I drew closer to him, it became apparent he was not staring at me at all; he was asleep. As I debated what I should do, Andrew’s lips began to move. “Monster,” he whispered, “sea monster.” Then he turned on the stair and began to climb to the third floor. I followed behind him until he reached his bedroom. He walked into the room, climbed into bed, and was instantly still. The windows to his room were open and the chill night air ruffled the curtains and caused them to flutter wildly. Had Andrew opened the windows? Had he been staring at the sea before he fell asleep? I immediately closed and locked the windows. As I did so, I looked down toward the jagged rocks below the window but saw nothing except a dark void that seemed to go on forever.

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Chapter Six

I fell into a routine of lessons with Andrew during the morning hours, followed by the midday meal, then a short respite while Andrew had his nap. In the afternoon, I accompanied him during his riding lessons. We were a familiar sight to the workers on the estate as we skirted the fields and woods near Trimagon Hall. I usually rode Starlight, the frisky mare that Tristan had picked for my mount. Andrew followed behind on his pony, Pegasus. One day, Andrew caught a chill and Dr. Landower sent him to his bed. “Just a slight cold,” the doctor diagnosed. “He should be up and around in a few days.” After lunch, I was surprised to find Tristan waiting at the stables when I went there for my daily ride. “May I join you today? I wouldn’t want you to ride alone.” His eyes were twin pools of deep blue water and I had trouble tearing my gaze from his. “That won’t be necessary,” I stammered. “Are you nervous, Ms. Trenton?” His gaze raked across my face and heat rose in my cheeks. “Of course not. Why should I be?” “Then perhaps I might have the pleasure of your company for the afternoon.” “As you wish, sir,” I replied coolly even though my heart pounded wildly at the thought of an afternoon spent riding with him. Siobhan’s smiling face flashed in front of my eyes, and I pictured her pert mouth and wide-set eyes, which turned up at the corners. I wondered how well Tristan had known Siobhan. Had they rode together just as we were about to do? What did I really know about Tristan except that he fascinated me and my breath came a little quicker when he was in my general vicinity? Then I remembered Davina’s possessive attitude toward him and I pondered the extent of their relationship. Suddenly, the afternoon ride lost some of its appeal for me. We rode through the fields in silence then he turned his horse toward the forest. 22

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“We usually don’t go into the forest,” I said, hoping he had not noticed the tremor in my voice. The forest frightened me in a primitive, unexplainable way just as it had since the day I passed through it on my way to Trimagon Hall. “Then allow me to show it to you.” His stallion, Orion, was already disappearing into the trees. I had no choice but to follow him. The forest seemed devoid of oxygen, and I found myself drinking in great gulps of air as I fought my unreasonable fear. The trees were a maze of greenery that seemed to stretch for miles, luring travelers into their depths…and possibly to their doom. I knew I was being unreasonably afraid, but I could not help myself. I hated the forest and wished to be far away from this green, somber cathedral of trees. There were no birds singing, no sounds at all except the beat of the horses’ hooves on the ground. Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting crack, which filled the forest. Starlight reared up on her hind legs, and taken by surprise, I was not able to stay in the saddle. Darkness closed in around me as my head connected with the forest floor. **** I awoke in my bed at Trimagon Hall. Tristan Trimagon sat in the chair nearest the bed, a frown creasing the corners of his mouth. “Why do you frown so much?” I said softly, not quite awake. “Miss Trenton…,” he began. “What happened to me?” “You fell from your horse and I brought you back to the Hall.” “There was a loud sound like gunfire…” “Yes, I believe there were hunters in the woods despite the laws against poaching. The shot spooked Starlight and she unseated you. Fortunately, Dr. Landower informed me you were not seriously injured in the accident.” “Accident?” I shook my head. “I wonder…” “What do you mean?” His eyes were concerned and wary. “First, the warning signs were removed from the cliffs,” I explained. “That made the area extremely dangerous to someone who didn’t know about the erosion of the land…someone like me.” He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And today I fell from Starlight because a shot was fired near where we were riding.” I paused. “I fear someone wishes me to leave Trimagon Hall.” “Why would anyone wish you to leave?” I closed my eyes. I could not bear to see his face when I told him the truth. In spite of the consequences, I no longer wanted lies between us.

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“Because I am Siobhan Delaney’s cousin,” I declared. “I took this job in order to find out what happened to her.” I opened my eyes to face him. He stared back at me with barely veiled contempt. His expression showed how much my betrayal had wounded him. “You came to my home under false pretenses?” His eyes had darkened to a deep, sooty gray. “May I ask if you are indeed a governess?” “Of course I am.” My own voice rose in anger. “You checked out my references, didn’t you? Had I not obtained employment here, I should have found some other way to investigate Siobhan’s death.” “Your cousin fell from the cliffs. I will not have you disrupt my household with your imagination.” “I did not imagine what just happened to me.” “It was an accident, nothing more.” “I wish I could believe it, but I feel there is more at work here.” His gaze deepened and my apprehension grew. “Was it part of your plan to charm my brother and me into helping you?” he asked softly, “To perhaps play us against each other? “What are you talking about?” “It would not be the first time an attractive female has brought discord to our family.” He cupped my chin in his hand and stared down at me with barely controlled rage. “You are but the latest in a long line of deceitful women.” “How dare you!” I slapped his hand away. “You wish for the servants to refrain from discussing the Trimagon Legacy, yet you believe in it more than anyone else. It’s nothing but a ridiculous story, a series of coincidences.” Tristan stood up and began pacing the room. “We have nothing further to discuss. I would appreciate it if you would pack your belongings and leave as soon as possible. I will send McTavish for your things in the morning. Good day to you, Miss Trenton.” After he had left the room, an overwhelming sense of failure weighed down on me. I had accomplished absolutely nothing since my arrival at Trimagon Hall except to alienate the man I loved. I thought about the days and weeks ahead. I allowed myself to conjure up Tristan’s brooding, handsome face and deep blue eyes. Certainly none of the local lads had ever touched my heart or excited my imagination as he had in the short time I had known him. Tears spilled onto my pillow as I admitted the truth to myself—I was in love with Tristan Trimagon. When had this happened? Could I pinpoint the exact moment? Then I realized I had fallen in love with him when our eyes first met in his study.

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I had lost my dear cousin Siobhan, and in trying to discover the circumstances surrounding her death, I had met and lost the love of my life. I decided a village lad was the best I could hope for since I was, after all, only a governess. I allowed myself to cry as I had not cried since Siobhan’s funeral. I cried myself to sleep, and when I awoke, it was dark outside my window. I rose from my bed in order to check on Andrew and see how he was feeling since I was to leave in the morning. I made my way to the nursery and approached the small bed where Andrew slept. His soft skin was hot and feverish to the touch. He opened his eyes and stared up at me. “Don’t go to the cliffs, Miss Siobhan.” He was in a delusional state and mistook me for my cousin. His agitation grew. “The black hooded man is waiting for you on the cliffs. He pushed you over the ledge. I saw what happened that night.” Then his head flopped back on the pillow and he fell into a troubled sleep. I stared in mute horror at the little boy. Could he have actually witnessed Siobhan’s murder? The nursery overlooked the cliffs and perhaps he had looked out his window and seen… I shook my head as I tried to understand what key Andrew might hold to the mystery. Perhaps he had simply had a nightmare brought on by fever and grief. When I returned to my chamber, I saw the folded note lying on my pillow. I held it up to the candlelight and read the words scrawled across the page in bold handwriting: Miss Trenton, I have discovered some intriguing evidence regarding Ms. Delaney’s death. Meet me on the cliffs. I believe you know the spot. Tristan Trimagon He had forgiven me! My heart sang as I dressed warmly for the rendezvous. Even if Tristan had not quite forgiven me, at least he had conceded to speak with me again. Even if he sent me away tomorrow, I would still have a few more moments alone with him to treasure in the lonely years ahead.

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Chapter Seven

It was nearly midnight and a blood-tingling chill had swept in from the sea. As I fastened my cape and then gathered it close around me, I wondered what Tristan had discovered and why he had chosen the cliffs as a meeting place. I grabbed my candle and left the room. I navigated the stone steps that led down to the rose garden then hurried across the patch as tendrils of fog encircled my ankles and grew thicker with each passing moment. I opened the iron gate and walked along the cliff. This time, I made a point of stopping before I got too close to the edge. “I am here, sir,” I called out. There was no reply. The back of my neck tingled as I sensed I was not alone. Someone watched me as I stood on the cliff. I turned around, expecting to see Tristan. My body flew backward, knocking the breath from my lungs. Strong arms snaked around my throat and I fought to free myself from the hooded figure who strangled the life from me. The black hood slipped and I stared into the face of a madwoman. Davina’s expression contorted into a mask of cold, inhuman rage. She tightened her grip around my neck as she pulled me closer toward the edge of the cliff. She threw me to the ground. Her stamina amazed me even as I fought against her with every vestige of strength I possessed. She positioned one of her knees on my abdomen and the sudden, excruciating pain caused me to moan in agony. I tried to roll out from under her, but her arms were too powerful. My moans grew in intensity until I realized the sounds were not coming from my throat. I stopped groaning and listened to the guttural growls that drifted up from the sea. Davina released her grip on my neck, but I could still not escape the weight of her body on mine. Davina turned her head toward the sound. Her rose-hued cheeks had lost their color and now took on the pallor of death under the cold moonlight. “It’s the monster,” she whispered. 26

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I scratched at her arms and drew blood, but she did not seem to notice. Her attention was riveted to something on the horizon. Suddenly, I heard the same unearthly wail I had heard in my nightmare, followed by a roar of triumph. “The monster is here!” Davina’s voice held the hysterical timbre of an insane asylum inmate. “Someone must die!” she chanted. “Someone must die!” She pulled me to my feet and dragged me the last few yards to the edge of the precipice. “The monster demands a sacrifice!” she screamed into the howling wind. Then she shoved me backwards and I found myself plummeting through the air just as I had done in the nightmare. Davina screamed one last time and I saw her hurtle over the edge of the cliff above me. Had she meant to sacrifice her life or had she simply lost her footing? I closed my eyes and thought of Tristan with his intense blue eyes and full-lipped, scowling mouth, which could suddenly break into a smile. His smile was the sun breaking through the clouds… **** A moment later, I opened my eyes. Where was I? Was I dead? Every muscle, every sinew in my body ached with the effort to breathe. I lay on a tiny outcrop about twenty feet below the edge of the cliff. By some miracle, this small ledge had saved me from plunging hundreds of feet to the roiling sea and jagged rocks below. Where was Davina? I could not bear to look down, fearing I would glimpse the black hooded cape she had worn now floating in the churning waves below the ledge. What else would I see if I looked down into the water—perhaps an evil, amber eye staring back at me from the shadows? “Isabella!” A tortured cry reached out from above me. “Isabella!” Tristan stood on the edge of the cliff and the sight of him so strong and manly brought tears to my eyes. I would see him again, after all! I called out to him, but the crashing of the waves carried away my voice. I screamed and continued to scream until my throat was raw. “Isabella, don’t move!” he shouted. “I’ll be back with a rope.” Relief surged through me. I tried to sit up but the pain in my arm was excruciating and I lay back down on the rocky surface. I held my injured arm to my chest and thought of Siobhan. There had been no rocky ledge to save her life. Tristan pulled me to the top of the cliff with the help of his brother and James Landower. The Three Musketeers, I thought, working together to save me. Tristan carried me to my bedroom where Dr. Landower confirmed my arm was indeed broken. **** 27

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The next day, I pieced together the details of Siobhan’s last days at Trimagon Hall. “I loved Siobhan and we planned to marry.” James’ eyes clouded with pain. “We kept our plans secret because Davina found out about our love and made trouble for Siobhan. In her fierce jealousy, she tortured Siobhan by cutting up her clothes, and leaving dead animals on her pillow.” “She was always jealous and possessive of her so-called ‘Three Musketeers,’” Hayden explained. “She expected our undying love because the three of us pledged our hearts to her when we were children. It was just a childish game, but she saw it as much more than that.” Hayden stared unseeingly into the fire. “Davina was staying at the hall because Sir Reginald feared leaving her alone at his estate while he sailed for India. Her behavior grew more erratic with each passing year here. If only he had taken Davina with him, Siobhan would still be alive,” his voice broke and he cradled his head in his hands. James patted Hayden’s shoulder. “Siobhan knew you loved her and she did love you in her own way.” “Not the way I wanted her to,” Hayden said simply, “but I was thankful for her friendship. You were the one she wanted.” I stared into the fire and cherished the memories I had of my high-spirited cousin who, first-and-foremost, was in love with life itself. “Was Davina…insane?” I asked. The men looked at each other without speaking. Finally, Tristan said, “At the time, she just seemed happy the four of us were together again at Trimagon Hall. When James fell in love with Siobhan, it destroyed her illusions. She lured Siobhan to the cliffs that night and killed her.” “How do you know this?” I stammered. “When James found Davina’s journal, the details of her crimes were documented in the diary.” Such monstrous evil. Davina Glentyre was the true monster of Trimagon Hall. “I’m so sorry, Isabella.” Tristan held my hand as the other two men left the room. “We also know Andrew’s mother didn’t run away after all.” My eyes widened. “You’re not saying Davina killed her as well.” Tristan nodded. “Davina documented her descent into madness. According to her diary, Lenora met her end on the cliffs. She was the first person Davina killed, although they never discovered her body. Then she murdered Siobhan. You were her next target, beginning with removing the warning signs from the cliffs. She was also the one who shot at you that day in the woods.” 28

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Tristan squeezed my hand and then brought it to his lips. “Can you ever forgive me for not trusting you?” I shivered but not from the cold. A rush of air escaped my lungs. I felt numb and I thought I might be in shock. “Has Davina been found?” I asked. “They recovered her body this morning.” I covered my eyes with my hands. How close I had come to losing my own life as Siobhan and Lenora had lost theirs. “Go ahead and cry,” he said as he held me to his chest. “It will take time, but the pain will eventually pass.” I do not know how long I cried but I finally raised my eyes to his. I had to ask him the question even though I knew the answer. “When you discovered me on the ledge, did you see or hear anything…unusual?” “Unusual?” His brows knitted together in thought. “The only thing I heard was your faint cries. I saw nothing but fog and darkness.” He paused before continuing. “You mentioned Davina heard something or saw something before she plunged to her death and very nearly took you with her. Do you know what she saw?” “I don’t know what she saw,” I said truthfully. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” And it didn’t. Whether the serpent was real or not, I was alive and the man I loved was at my side, and at that moment, this was everything to me. Tristan’s hand tightened around mine. “When I saw you disappear over the side of the cliff, my heart was torn from my chest.” “You saw what happened?” He nodded. “I was sitting in the rose garden last night because I couldn’t sleep. I heard the iron gate open and close so I went to investigate. When I reached the cliffs, I was still too far away to stop Davina’s attack. It all happened so fast. One moment you were struggling with her and the next moment you both plunged over the side. My heart stopped beating in that instant.” I shuddered as I thought of the long fall from the cliffs to the freezing water and jagged rocks below. “I believe Andrew saw Davina the night she murdered Siobhan,” I said slowly. “He saw a black-hooded figure and thought it was a man.” Tristan’s gaze held mine. “The child will need patience and love to overcome his grief. He will need your kind heart.” My heart soared at the thought of staying on at Trimagon Hall. To be under the same roof with the man I love… “But you asked me to leave.” “Please forgive me for hurting you, my darling.” The endearment brought tears to my eyes. He continued, “As I sat in the rose garden last night thinking about my wounded pride, angry that you hadn’t confided your true reason for being here, I came to 29

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realize I would’ve done the same thing in your place.” His penetrating gaze held mine so I could not look away. “I saw miserable, lonely days ahead if you should leave me.” “You don’t…wish me to leave?” I stumbled over the words. “My fondest hope is that you will always be here with me. I love you, my dearest, and I would be greatly honored if you would consent to be my wife.” I shook my head. “I am the one who is honored. I have loved you from the first moment we met, but I hid my love away as a beautiful dream in my heart.” “You won’t leave me, will you, Isabella? I couldn’t bear it if you did.” His hand tightened on mine. “Does this answer your question?” Heedless of the bandages that protected my injured arm, I threw myself into his embrace.

The End

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Josie A. Okuly Josie A. Okuly began writing stories when she received her first diary at the age of nine. In college, she studied history and archaeology as she pursued her dream of

becoming an explorer of lost civilizations. She didn’t become the next Indiana Jones, but never lost her love of the written word. Years later as a stay-at-home mom, Josie submitted some of her poems and short stories and was delighted when they were accepted for publication. Josie's work has appeared in the Adirondack Review, Adoption Week, Anotherealm, Cold Glass Magazine, E Street Journal, Long Story Short, Millennium Shift, Nuvein Magazine, Tapestry, and The Harrow. These days, Josie is a wife, mother, substitute teacher, and writer. She shares her busy life with her husband Rick, her son Sean, and a spoiled cat named Frodo. Visit Josie's website at: http://www.JosieAOkuly.net Read about Josie's day-to-day life at her journal: http://menfreya.tblog.com

Our authors love to hear from their readers! You can write to Josie here: Josie A. Okuly c/o Chippewa Publishing LLC 678 Dutchman Drive, Suite 3 Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin 54729

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