ENTANGLED (29 page)

Chloe fought back the stinging tears and nodded again. “Thank you. It’s time I got back to the coven. I know the coven is behind my sister’s death. I’m not going to allow them to win so easily.”

His gaze never wavered from hers as the corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. “I’ve never had any love for the man anyway. Bring it on.”

He held out his hand and, taking a deep breath, Chloe took it.

As his fingers laced with hers, he said, “Now, about those cupcakes…”

Michelle Miles writes contemporary, paranormal and fantasy romance and found her love of writing buried in the fantasy books of Patricia A. McKillip and the beautiful romances of Victoria Holt. Never learning to plot, she always believed that jumping in feet first was the way to go and has since become a self-proclaimed Pantser.

Unfortunately, cancer is something that can affect anyone and Michelle wanted to be a part of this anthology to honor those who have survived the disease as well as remember those who have loves ones affected by it.

For more information about her upcoming releases, visit her website at
MichelleMiles.net
. You can also follow her on Twitter,
@MichelleMiles
, and Like her on Facebook,
facebook.com/MichelleMilesRomance
.

Cumberland, England 1859

Who was Aidan Callaghan?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A brown skirt suddenly appeared before her, blocking her view. “You’re always staring at him,” her younger sister Sally complained.

Mary Ellen resisted the urge to jerk her down, knowing Aidan had already seen them. Her hiding place had been uncovered. “Whatever do you mean?” Mary Ellen pushed herself upright, feigning indifference. She hadn’t heard her sister approach, for she’d been too involved in thinking about Aidan.

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

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

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

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

Even as she reprimanded her sister, she couldn’t help but glance at Aidan. Sensing her attention, he lifted his head. Their gazes clashed. It was as if a bolt of lightning shot through her very being. Mary Ellen sucked in a sharp breath, but couldn’t seem to look away. He hadn’t heard their discussion. He was much too far away, yet she feared he had.

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

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

But not she. Not at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They weaved their way around a maid churning butter. In the air hung the welcoming scents of nutmeg and cinnamon.

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

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

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

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

They moved into the foyer, the maids busy filling vases with red roses from the greenhouse. Before Meg had married Grayson, they never would have had flowers in the fall. Yet another advantage of marrying wealthy.

“And if he asks you to marry him?”

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

“I’ve seen him watching you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why ever not? I’ve heard many a women discuss him. He’s rather handsome and mysterious.”

Mary Ellen gritted her teeth, annoyed, although why, she wasn’t sure. “No, I won’t because I’m going to marry someone wealthy and titled.”

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

Her older sister practically glowed with her pregnancy. Her face was rosy, her brown hair shined and her blue eyes sparkled with a happiness that Mary Ellen would have envied, had she not adored her. Standing next to Meg, Sally was her miniature version. Mary Ellen was the odd one out with her brilliant red hair.

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

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

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

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

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

Mary Ellen gave her sister a tight smile. “Indeed.”

“Good.” Meg kissed her cheek. “Now, Sally dear, do help me down the steps. I must see that everything is in order for tonight’s festivities. While I’m planning and plotting, you must find Hanna and keep her occupied. The child is bored and intent on making mischief.”

Sally took Meg’s arm and they started toward the steps. “Cook said if I look into a mirror tonight, I’ll see the face of the man I’m to marry.”

“Sally, that’s pagan and sinful.”

They started down the steps. “So is your celebration, but you’re still having it!”

“Well, yes, but that’s different.”

“Meg, please let me attend tonight! I promise I’ll behave.”

“Darling, I told you, not this year. There will be much too much indulging in things a young lady dare not witness.

“Which is exactly why I want to go,” Sally muttered.

Mary Ellen smiled.

“Perhaps next year,” Meg replied.

“It’s not fair…”

Mary Ellen watched the two until they disappeared into the foyer, taking their argument with them. Meg might have been fortunate enough to marry not only a rich man, but also one who adored her, but Mary Ellen was realistic.

She moved to the window at the end of the hall and glanced outside. A patchwork of fall colors—red, yellow and orange—quilted the landscape. And there, below in the garden, the bench was now empty. Aidan gone.

Mary Ellen sighed, leaning her forehead against the chill glass window. She knew that love and money didn’t often go hand in hand. She would be silly to believe she could find both.

And if she had to choose, she would, undoubtedly, choose money.

For two months now Aidan had fantasized about Mary Ellen James. For two months nothing else had occupied his mind.

From the moment he’d stepped from the carriage, intending to visit his friend Grayson Bellamont for a much needed rest and had seen the man’s sister-in-law with the flaming red hair, he’d been rather obsessed. Even now he was acutely aware of her hiding behind those daisies. He’d sensed her the moment he’d stepped outside. Drawn to her like a mongrel to a bone.

In the evening, he watched her as she pushed her green beans around her plate, pretending to eat them. He studied her while she read those gothic novels, her face showing her every emotion as she became fully immersed in the story.