Shawna Delacorte - The Sedgwick Curse

And now this. She was enfolded in more than his aura, yet she felt helpless to offer even the slightest of protests. It was Donovan who finally broke the spell binding them together with invisible ties.

“The, uh, grounds. I promised to show you the immediate grounds, too.” He glanced out the window. Dark storm clouds hung low in the sky giving a menacing appearance to the countryside. The tree tops moved in the stiff breeze. “There seems to be a storm building. We’d better hurry.”

“Yes…I’d like very much to see the grounds.” She couldn’t stop the slight huskiness that surrounded her words.

Neither made mention of the incident in the library as they walked down the stairs, then along the hallway to the side door. They exited onto a large promenade bordered by beautifully manicured gardens on a terraced hillside. She had arrived at the estate at night and hadn’t realized that the manor house stood on a small bluff overlooking a long valley with a winding river flowing off to the horizon. The trees had turned their autumn reds and golds. It was a breathtaking sight that immediately filled her with a sense of calm and serenity.

“This is my favorite view.” Donovan paused for a moment of quiet reverie. “In summer the sunlight lingers across the green hills and reflects golden off the river. The air is filled with the fragrance of a thousand flowers.” He took a deep breath and stared out over the valley, lost in his own thoughts—thoughts that vacillated between the serenity spread out before him, the dark malevolence of the disturbing dreams that had first invaded his sleep about a month ago and the very real passion that Taylor stirred in him.

“I can see why you like it here. This is truly lovely.” It was a time of quiet contemplation that she found very calming after her unsettling dream the night before and the dark, almost sinister atmosphere clinging to the centuries-old house.

Neither Taylor nor Donovan spoke for several minutes.

“Well—” he turned toward her “—shall we continue with our tour?” He took her first to the tithe barn. “This is an exceptionally large structure for a tithe barn especially for its time period, but then it was a very large estate. The barn is 132 feet by 44 feet and is the oldest building still standing on the estate. It was constructed in 1389 and goes back to the time when all of this was church property. Ten percent of everything from all the surrounding area, usually crops, was given to the church and brought here for storage, thus the name tithe barn. In fact—” he pointed to an enclosed loft room with a window overlooking the interior of the barn “—the abbot or his representative used that room to keep an eye on everything.”

They stepped farther into the dimly lit interior of the large stone structure. “As you can see, it’s not currently being used.” The wind whistled through the window openings. Like the third floor in the oldest part of the house, she had the feeling of being transported back to another time and another place. She became acutely aware of the fact that he stood very close behind her, even imagining she could feel his breath against her hair. She ran her hand across the back of her neck in an effort to still the tiny shiver.

Taylor turned around and found herself looking up into the intensity of Donovan’s blue eyes and his handsome features. She stepped backward and quickly averted her eyes, pretending a momentary interest in the uneven cobblestones that covered the floor. “This barn was already a century old before most Europeans even entertained the idea of the world being round and land existing across the ocean to the west. That makes this all that much more impressive to me.” She looked around the barn again, stared up at the abbot loft, then peered farther up into the dimly lit rafters in an attempt to locate the birds she could hear. “If these walls could talk they would surely have quite a few exciting tales to tell.”

“Perhaps it’s just as well that they can’t say anything.” His mind darted to the lodge house and the horror of the story those walls could tell. His words came out in a near whisper, as if he did not want to even think them let alone say them. “This many centuries of history is bound to offer up a few dark tales of brutality…and even madness.” He shoved the bothersome thoughts away and continued in a more confident manner. “After all, the Middle Ages were not a particularly gracious or genteel period.”

Again the details of the murders of a century ago filled his mind along with the confusion of the strange dreams and happenings that had become part of his present. The uncertainty that had plagued him from the moment he’d laid eyes on Taylor continued to shove at his reality, intensified by his strong physical attraction to her.

Without saying anything else, Donovan placed his hand at the small of her back and gently steered her out the door of the tithe barn. His touch again sent little tingles of excitement racing through her body. They walked down the path together as he continued the tour of the estate.

“Over here are the stables. Of course, there are only a half-dozen or so horses these days, which leaves most of the stable area unused.” He suddenly stopped walking and looked questioningly at her. “Do you ride?”

“Yes, I used to ride quite a bit. I’ve only ridden with a Western saddle, though. I’ve never tried an English saddle. Unfortunately, I haven’t had any opportunity to ride for the past few years.”

“Perhaps you could make some time during your research and I can show you the rest on the estate. It’s best seen by horseback, where we’re not restricted to the roads.”

His question had seemed almost tentative, as if he were unsure about asking it. She offered him an engaging smile as she replied to his invitation. “I’d like that…very much.”

Jerry Denton, her ex-fiancé, had owned a small two-passenger airplane. During the time Taylor had been dating him and through their subsequent engagement, he had often flown them from Kansas to Colorado where he had a friend who owned a ranch. They had spent many hours horseback riding in the mountains. In retrospect it was the only part of the relationship that held any value for her.

It had been a messy breakup and had left Taylor gun-shy where men were concerned. Even though she had made a concentrated effort to avoid any type of emotional entanglement for the past three years, she could not deny that this man—Lord Donovan Sedgwick, one of a long line of Sedgwick gentry—had her senses running amok.

The one good thing that did come from the emotionally painful breakup of her engagement was the additional time she had spent with her grandmother. Those special times had fueled her desire to search out her roots. Her grandmother had died two years ago at the age of 102. Her mind had been sharp and clear until the very end.

And now Taylor was standing on the very ground where her grandmother had been born and talking to the descendent of someone who had been responsible for the death of her great-grandparents.

“Over here are the greenhouses and hothouses. The small one is for flowers and plants that are ultimately transplanted to the gardens surrounding the house. The large ones are vegetable gardens that provide us with produce almost year-round. Actually, with the vegetable gardens, grain and feed crops, livestock and poultry, the estate can be self-sufficient as far as food is concerned.” He held the door open for her and they entered one of the large glass structures.

They continued the tour well into the afternoon. He carefully kept her away from the lodge house and cemetery, even though the police had taken down the yellow crime-scene tape from around the crypt. He pointed out the areas that would be utilized for the annual festival.