Fire of My Heart by Erin Grace

Author:Erin Grace [Grace, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00IQTBRPE
Published: 2014-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The sun rose outside Ellen’s window. She lay in her bed, with no idea how she’d gotten back to her room. Lord. She really must do something about these blackouts. Despite having been with Rowan and safe in his arms, she hadn’t slept all night. Every time she’d closed her eyes, images filled her again. Unlike before, they weren’t just faces. This time she’d dreamt she walked through the grounds of the manor. People had run past her, frantically grabbing children and what little possessions they could carry.

As she’d moved amongst them, no one noticed her. They couldn’t seem to see her at all. And although she couldn’t hear the sounds of the chaos, she didn’t have to. Something was wrong--very wrong.

A man was there, one she’d seen before, looking past her to the scene unfolding in a field below, deep sadness etched in his expression. He’d turned and walked into the manor, and she’d followed him, stepped into the great hall. She’d recognized the room, but everything looked very different.

The man. As he’d opened the library door and gone inside, she’d run across the hall.

Wait. The room was smaller. No conservatory, just a large stone wall and window filled with thick, clear lead-light glass. The fire still blazed in the hearth. Though, no photos adorned the wall or trinkets stood on the mantle, just an oil lamp and a small black box.

She’d felt suspended there, as if she floated just above the ground, watching things change all around her. The man had seated himself at the desk she worked at, then placed his sword on the table beside him. Who was he? Lord Donegal perhaps. His nose and eyes reminded her vaguely of her uncle Robert. He looked suddenly up at her with concern, brow furrowed. Her heartbeat jumped. Could he see her? No. He seemed to be looking through her, toward the doorway. Someone must be coming, and whoever it was, they weren’t welcome.

A feeling of dread had grabbed at her stomach. She’d turned her head to see, but the scene had dissolved before her eyes.

That’s when she’d awakened and been unable to get back to sleep. Rowan wasn’t in the bed. She laid a hand on the crumpled pillow where his head must have lain. She’d rather stay awake. Every time she began to doze, those dreadful images came flooding back.

Rubbing her tired eyes, she yawned and stretched. There was something at the foot of the bed. A flower.

One pink, perfect tea rose.

Smiling sheepishly, she picked up the rose, inhaled its blissful aroma.

Last night. Yes. She remembered that--in every satisfying, erotic detail. Meandering lazily over to the window sill, she sat down and brushed the flower along her cheek.

Never had she been loved like that before. His touch was so intense. Hot and sensual, his body had been like a smoldering volcano ready to erupt. She sighed and grinned. A heated blush rose to her cheeks. And erupt he had. They’d been joined together in a magical experience.

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