Chapter 6

I find now that I am able to see, at last, through the eyes of one who appreciates what it means to be alive. Fanciful though this may seem, I believe that I may have a destiny to fulfill after all, though what it may be, I have no idea as yet. I have promised Tara that I will make no further attempts on my life, and in return, she has promised not to smother me with love as she has attempted to do these last two weeks. I know that in asking this I have mortally offended her, but coming back from the dead has been a profound experience for me and I have found a strength in myself that I did not know was there. And this gives me great hope for the future.

William looked at his hands. The skin was peeling in a most dramatic fashion, but the pain was for the most part gone. When he regarded himself in the mirror, he imagined that he looked like a snake that was half way through shedding his skin. It was most unappealing but strangely symbolic, as if the old William had been stripped away and a new one was emerging.

He still hadn’t ventured outside since that fateful day but he was fully intending to do so, and soon. He smiled to himself as he elaborated on his plan, and realised, as he looked in the mirror, how different he looked when he smiled. He just hadn’t done enough of it in the past to notice it. He tied back his hair and carefully eased his arms into his shirt, doing up the buttons as he left his room and walked along the corridor to his father’s room. Nobody ever came here and it had been left intact, everything still in the same place as it had been on the night he’d disappeared.

He closed the door after him, not wanting Tara to catch him and ask unnecessary questions. He peered into the enormous wardrobe and scanned the now unfashionable clothes that hung there, closing it again when he didn’t discover what he was looking for. Then he spotted a large chest under the window and kneeling beside it, he opened the lid and began to rummage.

Soon a pile of clothes lay scattered about him, and with a triumphant grin he pulled out his prize, his father’s old greatcoat, the leather worn and battered to a comfortable softness, and cut in the style of the last century with a huge collar and cuffs that turned back. He unfurled it with a flourish, coughing slightly at the small cloud of dust that floated from it and slipped it over his shoulders.

It was far too long for him, reaching almost to the floor, but as he slid his arms inside and turned this way and that in front of the chevalier mirror, he felt something he’d never felt before. Power. For a brief moment he imagined the coat to be possessed by something other worldy, and he felt a surge of strength course through him, making his heart race and his breath catch in his throat. Then it was gone. He grinned at his reflection, turning up the collar and striking a pose. Tomorrow was the full moon and Lord Angelus was going to rise from his grave and take a jaunt through the village.

He tried to look serious, to copy the grim expression that his father sported in his portrait but he found that he just couldn’t stop grinning. Slipping off the coat, he made his way back to his room and wondered where Alex was. He was going to need his help in this.

~{~}~{~}~

Elizabeth waited all day for an interview with her father only to be told that he had a visitor and would not be available to see her that evening. She retired to her room in frustration, fully intending to pack her bags there and then, and just leave. She would walk to Plymouth if necessary, even if that meant that she only went with the clothes on her back. As she pulled out a large bag she realised that it would be far too heavy for her to carry for any distance, would probably only fit one of her dresses anyway, and that her plan was totally impractical. How would she ever get out of the house unobserved? She peered out of the window and knew that she could not go that way, and she certainly couldn’t waltz down the stairs with it. What possible excuse could she give?

The plan had been that Willow had invited her for the weekend, but that was after she’d spoken to her father. She’d promised Willow that she’d do that and she couldn’t let her down.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and the appearance of her mother.

"Elizabeth, your father will see you now." She stood there, smiling pleasantly and completely ignoring the open bag and clothes strewn about the bed.

Elizabeth moved in front of the mess, her knees trembling suddenly. She had been rehearsing her speech all day, had been ready to speak plainly to him, but suddenly all the courage drained out of her at once. She sat on the edge of the bed, her mind reeling, knowing that she would only have one chance to say what she had to say and that she was indeed lucky that her father had agreed to talk with her at all.

"Tell him I’ll be there in a moment." She needed to compose herself, for she would do no good if when went to him feeling like this.

"Be quick, please, he does not want to be kept waiting. He is in such a foul mood tonight and we must not make him any more so. You know how he can be."

Elizabeth looked up in dismay, that did not bode well at all. And her poor mother. For a moment she felt real sympathy for her, married to a man she so obviously only tolerated. There had never been any genuine displays of affection between them as far as Elizabeth could remember, and it was little wonder that the woman retreated as she did into her own private world. Elizabeth rose and walked over to her.

"Then I shall go at once." And then she did something she rarely did. She embraced her mother with genuine affection, feeling a moment of real connection for a kindred spirit. That would be her in twenty years time if she married Caleb, and it was that thought that sustained her as she followed her mother out.

~{~}~{~}~

Alex had been most reluctant, at first, to take part in William’s plan. He had, however come round to it after quite a large quantity of wine had been drunk by the both of them, and they were now both sitting on the floor of the coach-house, starting on the brandy.

William had never laughed so much. Just being outside, even if it was in the safety of the coach house, made him feel so dizzy with elation that he felt as if he was floating, never mind the effect of the wine and the brandy. His heart was beating so rapidly from the anticipation of leaving the grounds for the first time that it was almost painful. Added to that was the thrill of knowing that Tara and particularly, Ethan were tucked up in their beds and had not a clue what they were up to down here. That was how he’d got Alex to join in. The thought of disobeying his mother and father had been more appealing to him than scaring the villagers, and if they were now both acting like ten year old boys, it was because they’d both never really been allowed a childhood.

Alex had had slightly more freedom, but neither of them had ever climbed trees and stolen apples and gone swimming or got into scrapes like real boys. This second childhood had been a long time coming, William thought to himself as he watched Alex fall over for what seemed like the hundreth time. They were never going to get the coach out at this rate.

He stood up himself and extended his hand, giving his best impression of Ethan and his broad west-country drawl. "Come on Alex m’lad. Got places to go, people to scare."

They both went off into another peal of hysterics, but he managed to pull Alex up, vaguely wondering if he’d given him rather too much wine. They didn’t want to end up in a ditch, just needed to get through the village and back. He picked up the coat he’d chosen for Alex and helped him into it, laughing again as Alex all but disappeared inside it.

"God’s truth, Alex, but you look foolish, and I don’t think I can laugh any more, my sides do ache so." He found he could though, when Alex donned the coachman’s hat that Ethan usually wore. Then he shrugged into his own coat and the pair of them went in search of harnesses for the horses.

~{~}~{~}~

"Caleb?"

Elizabeth stared at the last man she’d expected to see tonight, then she looked at her father. His left shoulder was twitching as it did when he was unusually agitated and in his hand was the letter she’d written to Caleb.

He waved it at her in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion which she supposed was rather more for Caleb’s benefit than hers, and then pointed to a chair.

"Sit down, and tell me what is the meaning of this?"

Elizabeth couldn’t have remained standing if she’d wanted to. She almost fell into the chair, her legs were trembling so, and when she opened her mouth to attempt to speak her father started up again.

"I will not have my children embarrassing and disgracing this family, and going behind my back in this matter." He stopped for breath, glancing at Caleb as if to gauge his reaction, then he turned back to her. "You are to apologise at once."

Elizabeth made yet another attempt to speak, having no idea whether a voice was going to come out of her mouth when she opened it. She was quite terrified, more so by Caleb’s calm, smiling appearance than her father’s rage and bluster.

"I..."

"At once, do you hear me?" Her father paced across the room and dropped the letter onto the marble topped side table. "The Reverend Caleb has been most generous in this matter, and still wishes to continue our business arrangement, but you are to apologise and retract everything you wrote. Did you not fear a scandal when you did this?"

Before she could answer, Caleb at last chose to speak.

"Mr Summers, let me talk to Elizabeth, I am sure that between us we can clear up this misunderstanding." He looked over at her pointedly and then back to her father. "Tis but the folly of youth, a moment alone with her will, I am sure, put everything to rights."

"Alone?"

At least her father had the decency to look shocked by his suggestion, she observed. Perhaps Caleb was about to reveal his true colours at last and her father would help her in this.

His indecision lasted but a few seconds.

"Mr Summers, I have been thinking about that scheme you outlined to me earlier. I think I should find it a most favourable investment." Caleb picked up a sheaf of papers from the large desk that dominated the room, and offered them to him.

"Why don’t you look these over once more. I would value your opinion on them."

"Oh, why...yes, yes of course."

Elizabeth’s spirits sank to the bottom of her boots. Her father was accepting the papers and moving towards the door. "I shall expect this matter cleared when I return." The comment was directed towards her, and she now knew for certain that she would receive no help from him. In fact, Caleb entirely had the upper hand in this and had dismissed her father from his own study as if he’d been a naughty schoolboy. She briefly debated making a scene and begging her father to listen to her, but found that her pride would not let her. No. She would talk it out with Caleb, making it clear that she would tell everyone who would listen about his obscene mural, if he would not take her seriously and release her. A man of the cloth could surely not afford such a scandal?

As the door clicked shut behind her she took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap to stop them trembling, then she raised her eyes to the man who, at this moment, she hated more than anyone in the world.

"So, Caleb. Shall we begin?

~{~}~{~}~

What William really wanted to do was to stick his head out of the coach window, as they sped through the village, and scream at the top of his voice. With his peeling skin and blotchy face he would present quite a figure, but when the time came to open the gates he found his anxiety increasing to such a degree that he thought that perhaps just sitting in the coach would be adventure enough for his first time out. In any case, the Angelus crest so prominently displayed would be enough to frighten anyone who had heard the legend, and it wouldn’t do to attract too much attention to himself personally, given what everyone thought of him.

He climbed back inside suddenly feeling rather sober and thinking that maybe this wasn’t the good idea he had thought it to be. A scene from his novel popped into his head, the part where a mob carrying pitchforks and flaming torches had marched upon Spike’s crypt intent on burning it to the ground, and he had a vision of the same happening to him. He was just debating whether to call the whole escapade off when Alex whipped up the horses and he was thrown back across the seat, the decision being made for him. He righted himself and pulled up the collar of his coat, then he looked tentatively out at the moonlit landscape with the eyes of someone who was seeing the world for the first time.

~{~}~{~}~

"I don’t want to marry you anymore Caleb." There, she’d said it in words that he couldn’t fail to understand. "I made it plain in my letter why I have changed my mind." She glanced up at him briefly, then looked away. He wasn’t showing any emotion at all, just sat casually on the edge of her father's desk inspecting his fingernails and waiting for her to finish. She couldn’t even tell if he was listening to her.

The silence stretched between them as he made no attempt to answer her. Then quite suddenly he rose and walked across the room. She shrank back at the suddenness of his approach but he stopped short and just stood there looking at her, his fingers now laced behind his back.

She guessed that he was playing some game with her, attempting to intimidate her with his manly presence, and as she risked another quick glance at him, she was struck by the fact that although he was still handsome, she did not now find him attractive in the least.

It was the first time she’d really understood why she’d felt as she did for the groom when she was fourteen. He had not been anywhere near a handsome mam but she had seen something deeper than just the way he looked, although she had not realised that at the time, nor since. Until now. All this time she had been looking for the wrong thing, concentrating on the superficial and missing the person beneath. At least this was one lesson that she had learned from this sordid affair.

He broke the silence with a heartfelt sigh. "I am sorry, Elizabeth."

Her head snapped up. "What did you say?"

"I said I was sorry." His face looked the very picture of contrition. "I did not mean to frighten you when we met before." He leaned down so that he was looking into her face and she could not avoid him. "Tell me I am forgiven, and all will be well. I found myself strangely upset by your letter. Elizabeth, let us put this right between us. What do you say?"

"I say, Caleb," she surprised herself by managing to hold his gaze as she replied and her voice quavered only a little, "that I would not marry you were you the last man on earth. I am the injured party here, not you. I find you disgusting and perverted, and what you did to me..."

"But you felt something Elizabeth," his voice held a note of triumph. "When I touched you, I know you felt something."

"Revulsion, nothing more." She turned her face resolutely away in an attempt to indicate that she considered the conversation over, but his hand reached out and grasped her chin, holding it firmly and forcing her back to him.

"And you’re feeling something now. Yes, blush my little peach, for you are no different than any woman, you are..."

Elizabeth found her voice, although it was difficult to talk properly when he was holding her so tightly. "Don’t you dare call me Eve." She found the courage to knock his hand away, and he let go of her, raising it in a gesture of peace.

"Calm down, Elizabeth, those passions are best kept for the bedroom." Then he chuckled to himself. "I expect that fiery tongue of yours has inflamed many a man."

"You are wrong, Caleb. I am not that sort of woman, and never gave the impression of being so. Why are you doing this?" To her shame she felt her voice breaking, and she had been so determined not to cry.

"Just like a woman to resort to tears when things don’t go their way." He considered her question for a moment. "From the first time I set eyes on you, I knew I had to have you. It’s as simple as that really. That, and I don’t like having my will thwarted. The fact that you don’t want me only makes me want you more. It’s a very strange thing."

Elizabeth stood up, almost overturning the chair in her haste. "You will never have me. I may only be a woman, but I will fight you with every fibre of my being." She found herself backing away as he advanced on her. It was all very fine to talk big, but she was so much shorter that he was that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. There was little doubt that he could best her if he chose to assert himself.

"You’re angry, frustrated and scared," now his grin was truly evil. "And I find that I like that in a woman. come here Elizabeth."

"I will not," she was as far against the wall as she could go and he was but inches away. "I shall call my father."

"And tell him what?" He made to imitate her voice. "Father, I let Caleb touch me in such a manner that now I shall have to marry him, for who would have me now?"

"You would not say such a thing." She had to turn her head now, as he was so close that she almost couldn’t breathe. "You are a man of god, I don’t understand why you behave like this."

"God works in mysterious ways, my little wanton." One arm came up beside her head and blocked her escape, and then to her horror she felt his other hand fumbling at her skirts. "And sometimes, quite straightforward ones." He grabbed a handful of the material and yanked it upwards. "Is this straightforward enough for you Elizabeth?"

"I’ll scream."

"No you won’t, you couldn’t stand the shame. How would you explain this to your father?" His hand continued its slow slide up her thigh as he spoke. "I knew you’d be a wild one, relax a little and let yourself enjoy it. Taming you is going to be so sweet."

"No, Caleb, let me go." How could she have ever found this pleasant? "You are sorely mistaken in equating fear and pain with pleasure. Please let me go." She gave another struggle, but it was no more than a token, and in truth, seemed to rouse him further rather than dampen his ardour.

"Do you know what I think?"

She shook her head, still struggling to remove his hand. "I care not what you think, and I promise you that I will scream if you do not stop this folly."

"I think that the biggest thrill for you is that your parents are but yards away and they have no clue what you are doing here. You find that arousing, don’t you. You’re a woman, you just can’t help it."

"You are an arrogant pig." She gave him one last shove and he backed off laughing, then saw her eyeing the door and seemed to guess that she was going to bolt for it. As she made to run around him, his arm snaked out and reached around her waist, lifting her clear of the floor, and hard against him.

"Mind your manners, little one. Now listen to me. I am going to call your father back now, and you are going to act as if nothing has happened but that we have spoken and agreed to marry after all. You have cast a spell on me Elizabeth, I will have you."

His face was only inches away as he held her easily. "Such an innocent face and such a foul mouth, come, one kiss before I call him." To her absolute horror his mouth dipped towards hers and she found herself smothered by his wet lips and tongue. It was only her second kiss and it was every bit as revolting as the first one, only more so because she knew that if she didn’t get away from him now she would have to endure this for the rest of her life.

As he pushed his tongue into her mouth she bit down hard, causing him to stagger away with a cry of pain. He dropped her, his hand going to his mouth and coming away smeared with blood. "You fool, how will we explain this to your father?"

She stared at him aghast that she could have done such a thing, and the look on his face told her that if he could get away with it, he would kill her right there and then. She felt sick and dizzy at the way the situation had spiralled so out of control.

"Caleb, you’ve got to let me go." She was going to faint, her heart was pounding and there was a roaring noise in her ears. Caleb took out a handkerchief and wiped at his mouth, then glared at her.

"You will pay for that, later of course. Now compose yourself and I will fetch your father, he will not tolerate us being alone for much longer."

"No." Elizabeth ran to the door and spread her arms wide, blocking his exit. "You do not seem to be hearing me when I speak." He was looking strangely blurred around the edges and she had to hold on to the door frame to stop herself from falling. Now was not the time to faint.

"Get out of my way." He reached out for the handle and she would never be sure of exactly what happened next. She remembered a struggle and an oath from him as he slipped, and then a sickening crunch as his head hit the sharp corner of the marble topped table. She fell with him because he’d grabbed at her dress as he went down, and as she fought to right herself she heard a strange gurgling sound from him. And then his eyes rolled back in his head, and closed.

He was so tangled in her skirts that she couldn’t right herself, and that only added to the hideous panic she was feeling. She scrabbled at him, pulling at her dress and biting back the scream that she was sure was going to come and rouse the whole household.

She’d killed him, she was a murderer. Her skirt came free at last, and she backed away across the floor, pushing herself with her heels, as the thought went round and round in her head. She’d killed Caleb, and his blood was on her hands and all over the front of her dress. And surely this could not be happening?

As she stood up and looked at his prostrate figure, she knew she should go and get help, perhaps he wasn’t dead after all, but how would she explain what had just happened? And did she want him saved? She’d prayed for a way out of this and now here it was. A wave of nausea washed over her as a picture of the gallows flashed into her mind. She was a murderer; he didn't look as if he was breathing, so he must be dead. The thoughts flew through her mind in a frenzied jumble.

And she had to get away. Fast.

All rational thought left her as she spied the open window and ran to it. It was a good ten foot drop, but the drop from the gallows would hurt more than this. Sliding her bottom onto the ledge, she pulled up her skirts and swung her legs over so that they dangled out, and then she caught hold of the sill with her hands and twisted herself around. But they were too slick with blood to get a proper grip. She scrabbled frantically as one, then the other slipped and she tumbled towards the ground.

She hadn’t realised how badly she’d hurt her ankle. Sheer terror at what she’d done seemed to have endowed her with an energy that she did not know she possessed and she was out of the grounds and on the cliff road before a sharp pain floored her. She went down, clutching at it, the nausea returning as she gasped for breath, and closed her eyes against the excruciating pain. For a moment she thought she would pass out, but with a grim determination she stood herself up and looked around. Nobody was following. Had they found him yet? They were bound to realise what had happened, and now she had compounded her guilt by running away. She would have prayed, but she did not think that God would be sympathetic to her plight. He would not want her after this.

To one side of her was the wide expanse of the moors, and to the other, the sheer drop to the rocks and angry sea below, the crashing waves glistening in the moonlight. As she looked from one to the other, she knew that there would be no escape, and that she was going to burn in the fires of hell for what she had done.

And as if to confirm it, she heard a noise that reminded her of something from her past. A ghostly rattling sound, coming nearer and nearer, and the remnants of a story that she couldn’t quite place, floating in her mind. The full moon, the clattering of hooves...

And then she saw it, a coach rounding the bend, almost glowing in the moonlight, and suddenly it fell into place. It was Lord Angelus on his way to hell.

And he was taking her with him.

TBC

Chapter 7

By the end of their trip through the village, all William and Alex had managed to do was to scare two sheep, and wake an old drunk who was sleeping in a ditch. And he, far from being intimidated, had tried to jump on the carriage, then chased it for a good many yards, declaring that Lord Angelus owed him three guineas and he wanted it back. Apart from that, the whole village had been silent and deserted.

And right now, William needed nothing more than to return home. The world was a much larger place than he ever could have imagined, and Alex’s drunken driving left much to be desired, causing him to feel more nauseous by the minute. He gripped at the edge of the seat as the coach rounded yet another bend, and then was thrown clear to the floor as it skidded to an abrupt halt, its rear end sliding dangerously close to the cliff edge. He cursed as he picked himself up, wondering why he’d ever thought it a good idea to come this way in the first place, and to let Alex drive. He was no more than half way to his feet when the coach door opened and Alex came barrelling in, knocking him over once more. He untangled himself as the lad crawled to the corner of the carriage, a terrified look on his face.

"What the hell..."

"A vampire, my lord, a vampire." Alex covered his head with his arms and made a whimpering sound, as he rocked back and forth. "We’re going to die."

William looked at the cowering figure, then at the door. Something had scared him, and badly. He crawled over to him and tried to lever his arm from his face.

"Alex, what is it? Did you say vampire?"

Alex continued his terrified rocking. "Standing in the road, right in front of the coach, covered in blood." Then he looked up at William. "Blood all over ‘er mouth. We’re doomed."

"Her? Alex, tell me, what did you see?"

"I told you, in the road... blood." Then he went into a rendition of every prayer he could remember, and William knew he would get no more sense from him. But, if there really was a vampire out there, which he seriously doubted given that it was Alex telling the tale, hadn’t they better do something? He looked around for a weapon to defend himself with, but the carriage was totally devoid of anything that might be useful in warding off the evil undead. No stakes, holy water or crosses. William stilled himself for a moment and listened.

"Be quiet Alex. Whatever you saw, I doubt it was a vampire."

"It was, my lord, I want to go home."

"So do I. They were both still crouched down on the floor of the carriage. "You say it was a woman?"

"I think so, I don’t know." Alex’s eyes were as wide as saucers. "What are you going to do?"

"Me?" He grabbed hold of Alex’s arm. "Come, there are two of us, we may have a better chance together if it’s a thief intent on taking the coach."

"I’m not going out there, this was your idea." He scooted himself even further away from the door. "And Ethan will kill us if we lose the coach."

"Very well, just stop babbling and I'll have a look."

William crawled over to the door, rather hampered by his long coat and cautiously pushed it open. He didn’t feel very brave, although he supposed someone had to be since Alex was such a gibbering wreck. But what could he have possibly seen that could have frightened him so? He pushed open the door and peered out.

As he did so, the horses moved restlessly, causing the coach to lurch and William was almost pitched out onto the road.

"Alex, you must take control of the horses, or we will end up over the cliff. Come on."

Alex started to shake his head, but William leaned back and grabbed him by the arm. "Get the horses, and I will see to the other, agreed?"

He managed to get a nod out of him, but still practically had to drag him out of the coach, then they both crept as silently as they could to the horses who were now becoming extremely agitated. William motioned Alex towards them, then he looked around for the ghostly apparition, or whatever it was Alex had seen. He didn’t think he felt brave, but he didn’t feel particularly scared either, supposing that you first had to see a vampire to know whether you were going to be scared of it or not.

But there was nothing. He stood up from his crouched position, only now starting to appreciate that he had left the confines of the coach, without a second thought, when only a few moments earlier he had been cowering inside it in much the same way Alex had been.

"There’s nothing here Alex. I believe you did imagine it. Lets..."

His voice trailed away as he realised that there was something there after all. Standing on the edge of the cliff, almost motionless, her hair lifting around her as it caught in the breeze. And she did, as Alex had said, have what looked like blood on her. The moonlight afforded him a good view of her as he stared at her, wondering why she looked so familiar.

Alex suddenly noticed her too and let out a cry, but William quietened him with a wave of his hand. "Shh, Alex, you’ll scare her. Can you not see how close she is to the edge? Just be quiet and hold the horses."

Alex nodded vigorously at the command and shrank back, and William took a step forward. The woman still didn’t seem to have noticed him, so he took another step towards her, his feet crunching on the gravelled road At that her head snapped up and he saw the smear of blood that stained her mouth and cheek. That made him pause, but only for a second. She was looking at him as if she could see right through him, and strangely, he did not find her remotely frightening. In fact, the closer he got to her, the more he was filled with the feeling that he had seen her before.

And he didn't know what to do next. This was totally outside any experience he’d ever had, never really having had to offer solace or comfort to anyone before. All he could think of was a time when a sick puppy had hidden itself behind a cupboard and refused to come out, despite the best efforts of Alex and Ethan who had shouted and poked at it with sticks. When they’d gone, he had sat himself down and just talked to it, earning it’s trust bit by bit and the gentle tone had worked. He took another step towards her and lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Let me help you," he said holding out his hand and nodding, encouraging her to take hold of it.

She was hurt and scared, and he didn’t like it at all, and so close to the edge that a mere half-step would send her plunging to her death. His hand was trembling as he willed her to grasp it, but she was looking at it with a puzzled expression. Then she flicked a glance at his face, and he realised, with a sinking heart, what she was seeing. His peeling skin must make him look like a monster to her; no wonder she looked terrified. For a moment he just wanted to bolt back to the carriage and lock himself away for ever, but he managed to stand firm, the knowledge that he was standing between her and certain death giving him courage.

Would she see beyond his present hideous looks and know that he was trying to help her, or was he doomed to be forever an outcast, of no use to anyone except as an object of fear? As he stood there, counting the moments, he knew that if she chose death rather than take his hand, then he might as well jump off the cliff with her. He knew now that this was what he’d come back from the dead for, to save this beautiful young woman’s life. And if he did this, then not only would she survive, but he would too.

Yes, he’d decided to live, but he hadn’t understood till now that life had to have a real purpose if it was to have any true meaning. It wasn’t about existing from day to day in an empty space. It was about reaching out, and noble acts and a whole host of things he’d never dreamed about. Until now.

He took another small step and she flinched, her foot slipping and sending a shower of small stones flying over the edge. Then she looked at him and his heart sank as he heard her speak for the first time.

She spoke calmly and sanely, and all hope that she might be seeing the man behind the monster drained out of him at her words.

"Is this hell?

~{~}~{~}~

He was the man from her dream, and he’d come for her. Elizabeth fought to swallow her panic as he moved towards her. There was nowhere to go but with him or over the edge. She looked at the hand he was offering her, and then at his face, the raw skin giving him the appearance of a rotting corpse in the shadowy moonlight. At least she thought so, her mind was making such fanciful leaps of the imagination. And perhaps she’d died already? She frowned, trying to remember when that might have happened. Tonight was such a blur. She had blood on her hands, and a coppery taste in her mouth, but how had it got there? Was it hers?

And then he spoke, and his voice was soft and gentle and so full of concern. And his face was like a mask, covering some truth she couldn’t fathom, yet she knew it was important. The way he was looking at her, concern for her, yes, but something else. She narrowed her eyes. There was a question hovering in the air, no words, and she should know what it was, if only she could look deep enough. He wanted something from her, she could see it in his face that if she took his hand, she would be giving him more than he was giving her.

If only she knew what it was. He needed it so desperately, like a lost soul reaching out for paradise. This couldn’t be hell. She said it aloud, asking him if they were in hell, and as she saw the hope drain from him she suddenly knew what he needed to hear.

"I can see you." She searched his features to see if she’d said the right thing, and a shiver ran down her spine at the expression she saw there. A look of absolute wonder and amazement, and the smallest hint of a smile. Encouraged, she continued. "You’ve come to save me, haven’t you?

He nodded and she did take his hand then, gripping it tightly, hers covered in blood, his rough and red. There should have been revulsion and fear, but he didn’t waver, and neither did she. All she felt at that moment was such a moment of pure connection, as if time itself seemed to stand still.

And then she remembered why she was there. She’d killed Caleb. She was a murderer, an outsider now. And she knew who this man who looked at her so tenderly was He was the boy that nobody ever saw. The one locked away in the old dark house. Everyone thought he was a monster, but all she saw at that moment, was a man.

It was all making sense now. Caleb walked in the light, but hid such a heart of darkness beneath the handsome exterior that he presented to the world. Yet here was true kindness in someone she would not even have given a second glance to before this moment. And she just knew, without having to ask him, that she could trust him with her life. He would save her every night if he had to, and she was going with him, into his world, because this one had no place for her any more.

As she limped towards him, she felt his arm reach under her and support her as her senses overwhelmed her, and she leaned gratefully against him, and let him lift her up. The world went into soft focus as she closed her eyes, and just let him take her. She didn’t ask where because she didn’t have to. And she knew that once the gates closed behind her, she was never going to leave.

~{~}~{~}~

All he'd ever wanted was for someone to see him. Really see him. Even Tara, who knew him better than anyone, didn’t seem to see the man he’d become. To her he'd always be the little boy she’d been so dedicated to. But this woman, in a moment, seemed to have seen right into his soul, and the words she’d spoken had been like food to a starving man. The way she’d looked at him had seemed to fill up all the empty spaces in him at once, and if he hadn’t any notions of the concept of love at first sight before, his mind was full of them now.

As he carried her back to the coach, almost completely disarmed at the way she’d put her trust in him, he felt that at that moment had a dragon appeared and tried to wrest her away from him, he would have fought it off single handed. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling, and something else he had no experience with. He’d played games with Alex in which he’d taken the role of the brave knight, but he’d never had any idea it would feel like this, and it was almost too much. His arms were trembling and his heart was beating much too fast, and she was lying very still against him and he wanted her to stay there forever.

"Alex, open the door."

He had no idea that girls could be so delicate. Tara was not so tall, but so sturdy that he would have had trouble in picking her up, but this girl felt like nothing at all as he waited for the coach door to be opened. Instead of opening the door, however, Alex gave him a look of pure disbelief and stood in front of it, effectively blocking his entrance.

"You’re not bringing ‘er back with us."

"Open the door, Alex, she needs help."

Alex refused to move. "Ethan will go mad, and what if she is a vampire?" He said it a little self consciously as if he realised how much he'd over reacted before.

"She’s not a vampire, you idiot." William stood firm. "Open the door, or get out of my way."

Ethan, he wasn’t going to be pleased at the thought of a stranger in the house, but he’d have to get used to it. He wasn’t the master there, although he behaved as if he was. This wasn’t going to be easy. William was beginning to feel a strange panic with every moment that passed, fearing that the woman was suddenly going to come to her senses and realise what was happening and run away, or recoil in disgust from him, and he desperately wanted to get her into the coach and away before that happened. He wasn’t kidnapping her, but it was beginning to feel like it.

Alex moved reluctantly out of the way, and William climbed the steps with a little difficulty, hampered as he was by her skirts and the long coat he wore.

"Pretty face ‘as turned your ‘ead," Alex muttered shaking his head. "Ethan won’t let ‘er stay."

"Ethan will do as he’s told, for once." William tried to sound as if he meant it, while at the same time wondering what to do with the woman now that he had her in the coach. She felt so loose and limp in his arms, and was so silent that he thought that she might have gone to sleep, or fainted, but then she moved and lifted her head seemingly confused as to where she was.

For a second William’s heart nearly stopped. This was the moment when she realised what was happening and ran away screaming, but she merely gave him a look of confusion, as if she’d forgotten she was being carried at all, then closed her eyes once more and settled back against him.

Since she wasn’t about to let go of him he opted to sit with her on his lap, ignoring Alex’s scornful look as he slammed the coach door. He knew what Alex was thinking, because he was thinking it himself. He just couldn’t help it. Of course he wanted to help her, but her pretty face and vulnerability were working on him in a more subtle way that he was only just beginning to appreciate, and the knight in shining armour was fast being replaced by something else.

And if she knew anything of men, then she would soon know what was happening to him, her thigh, leaning as it was against the source of his discomfort. He tried to will the feeling away, but the armful of warm woman that he was holding made it near impossible, and every time the coach jolted it only got worse. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, desperately trying to quell the physical reaction he was having to her, trying not to inhale the scent she wore, or run his fingers through her golden hair as he was so desperate to do. He was a gentleman, and gentlemen didn’t harbour lewd thoughts about innocent young women that they had just rescued. And he had to suppose she was an innocent, as she wasn’t showing any signs of reacting to what was happening to him.

But instead of placing her on the seat opposite him as his rational mind was telling him to, he found himself pulling her closer in to him and when she didn’t protest, he pulled her even closer still. It was a strange, new feeling. He wanted to be her protector, companion and lover all at the same time. Was it like this for all men, he wondered, or was he, in his companion - starved state, just overreacting to being in close contact with a desirable woman for the first time? It was as if he was having to learn everything at once, and he had nothing but his own instinct to tell him whether he was getting it right or not.

If she didn’t want him to do this, she would have struggled against it, he rationalised, and he knew that if she did, then he would let her go. He tried to relax, thinking that right now it felt so right to be doing this, and that Ethan probably would try to kill him when he found out what he’d done, and that he didn’t know anything at all about this girl - he hadn’t even stopped to see if the blood was hers or not.

The thought gave him pause, so he loosened his hold on her a little and leaned round to look into her face. He needed to find out who she was, why she’d been standing in the road looking so shocked and covered in blood. And why he’d been the one destined to save her.

~{~}~{~}~

After all the weeks of worry and the tension that it had induced, Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to turn herself over, life and soul, to this man right now provided the perfect solution to her problems. What better place to hide than the Angelus mansion? A place that no-one dared go near. She found herself relaxing, relishing the warmth and safety of the comfort being offered, as her senses slowly returned to her, and she leaned drowsily against him.

For once, nobody wanted anything from her, and didn’t want to use her for their own ends. He hadn’t even questioned what she was doing on the cliff road, in such a state, and at this time of night.

But he was shifting, looking at her, she could tell even with her eyes closed that he needed some answers. What did she tell him? If he knew what she’d done, would he still take her with him? Would he want all the potential trouble that might cause? Knowing what he looked like, she now knew why he hid from the outside world. He didn’t want to endure the ridicule that his physical appearance would afford him. But what if they came after her, found out she was there? He could be found guilty by association, or in the very least, the carefully built up mystique surrounding him, obviously spun to keep folk at bay, would collapse. Did she want that for him? Was she that selfish?

On the other hand there was that spectre of the gallows that sent a cold shiver down her spine every time she thought about it, and it only made her want to disappear from the world completely, and abandon herself to him. And right now he seemed content to let her do that.

She opened her eyes and gazed at him in the dim interior, reading the unspoken question in his face without having to see it. He had a right to know, but when she tried to say it, the words wouldn’t come.

"What’s your name?"

He was still speaking in that soft, measured tone that he’d used earlier, almost as if he felt she might break if he spoke any louder. But the more that he knew about her, the more dangerous it would become for him. What did she tell him?

"Buffy, my name is Buffy."

He thought about it for a moment. "Mine is William. Are you hurting?"

"Only my ankle." She felt a twinge of apprehension, knowing where the questions were leading, and hoping he wouldn’t ask.

"Then the blood is not yours?"

"No." How could she tell him she was a murderer. Would he throw her out of the coach and leave her to fend for herself?

"I see." She felt him lean back against the seat, and then his fingers crept into her hair where it had escaped the confines of the pins. She held her breath as he stroked through it, obviously contemplating what he was going to say next, and as his hand grazed her scalp she jumped, feeling for the first time a mild sense of panic at the situation that she was now beginning to be fully conscious of. She was sitting in the most intimate of positions, on a strange man's lap. Yes he had saved her life, but what if her trust in him had been merely an extreme emotional reaction to everything that had happened tonight? And what if he was like all men after all, and just wanted to use her as Caleb had? The sensation of his fingers was not at all unpleasant, but then neither had Caleb’s been at first. It was her experience that the pleasant feeling soon turned to one of panic and pain, and this thought made her sit up abruptly.

"Don’t, please..." She pushed away his hand and slid from his lap, gasping in pain as she landed on her sprained ankle, and then nearly overbalanced as the carriage jolted into a pothole. His arm came out to steady her, and as she grabbed at his shoulder to stop herself falling, she felt a terrible confusion at the conflicted emotions that were coursing through her.

She hadn’t panicked when he’d rescued her, in fact her meeting him had been an almost spiritual experience, and then she’d been content to sit on his lap, and be held most intimately. Why then did the fingers in her hair seem to cross an invisible line? Had Caleb, and what he’d done to her, spoiled her for all men, and was she destined to react this way to any gesture, no matter how innocently meant?

As she fell into the seat opposite him, she saw him withdrawing into his coat, and hiding his hands in the sleeves, and she wondered that maybe he was thinking that she’d recoiled because of his physical appearance.

"You’ve nothing to fear from me, Buffy." He sounded a little puzzled that he’d had to say it after she’d shown such trust in him.

"I know." She felt tremendous sorrow that she should make him feel this way, and after he’d been so kind to her, but she couldn’t now take it back.

"I understand. I'll keep you safe, and I don’t want to know what happened, unless you want to tell me. Do you still want to come with me?"

"I do, William, and thank you."

He didn’t understand at all, and she was rapidly becoming of the opinion that she wasn’t capable of a normal relationship with any man. One minute she was virtually throwing herself at them and the next she was fleeing in indignation, virtue fluttering. What was wrong with her? Maybe Caleb had been correct and it had been her fault that he’d reacted the way he had towards her.

She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see the hurt on William’s face, She wanted to go back to him, and put his hands in her hair, and feel safe in his arms once more, but she couldn’t. That perfect moment of connection had been completely spoiled.

Here sat the man who'd saved her life, and she'd shunned him and made him feel unworthy. And she knew that if she was going to continue to accept his help then she needed to put it right.

But how?

Chapter 8

They completed the rest of the journey in silence. William pulled his coat around him and wondered how he could have been so stupid as to think a woman like her would let someone like him anywhere near her. He’d been right in assuming that once she’d come to her senses and realised who he was, she’d run away. And she had, the look of disgust had been plain enough. He knew he’d overstepped the mark when he’d given in to the temptation to caress her hair, but from the way she’d been holding him, he really had thought she would not mind.

As he watched her from the safety of his side of the coach, he thought that perhaps women were slightly more complicated creatures than the books that he’d read on the subject made out. They had smaller brains, so it followed that they would not be as intelligent as a man, but did this make them incapable of logical thought also? She’d given him a clear signal that she did not mind being carried, or held on his lap, and had not struggled when he’d pulled her close, yet suddenly it was all wrong and she was pushing him off as if he’d forced himself upon her. And yet, she hadn’t tried to throw herself from the coach as he feared she might, and still seemed content to go back to the Angelus Mansion with him.

It was all very confusing, and he knew that he needed to tread carefully around this beautiful, beguiling woman, who he was already more than captivated by. It wasn’t for nothing that poets wrote long, angst ridden odes to love, and for the first time he was beginning to understand some of the sentiments behind what he’d read. It was one thing longing for the woman of your dreams, but quite another to have her sitting so near, and yet be so unattainable. It would be so easy to become a fool for love, for him especially, so he must guard his heart carefully, he told himself. If she needed a place of safety, then he would afford her one, but he must be under no illusion that she was sent as a gift to ease his loneliness, or any other such nonsense.

And then there was the blood. That it was not hers had come as a great relief, but if not hers, then whose? And why did she have blood on her mouth? It almost looked as if she had bitten someone, little wonder that Alex had thought her a vampire. She was an enigma, certainly, and he couldn’t help a small laugh at the thought of her entering his small, strange world. It was certainly a place for misfits and outcasts, and she’d be safe enough for now, but what the consequences of taking her with him were going to be he had no idea. Certainly Ethan would not like it. Tara would be kind to her and maybe she could talk Ethan round, but her disappearance from the world would surely not go unnoticed. That meant there would be people looking for her.

William closed his eyes and tried not to think that far ahead. It had been a strange night, and one, he was beginning to suspect, that might change his life. But even with his eyes closed he could still see her. Hair the colour of buttercups, a rosebud of a mouth, eyes the colour of the sea on a stormy day, all the usual poetic nonsense went through his mind. He realised that all this time, in his poetry, he’d been writing a fantasy, and that it came nowhere near to describing the real thing.

It wasn’t about how a person looked, it was about seeing something deeper inside, and when she’d told him that she could see him she had sounded as if she’d meant it. And that had made him happier than anything he could remember. He sneaked another look at her, noticing how hastily she closed her eyes, not wanting him to see that she was studying him, and he wondered what she really did see. He wouldn’t always look like this - would her opinion of him change as his skin healed and he returned to his normal looks?

His train of thought was interrupted by the coach slowing as Alex negotiated the entrance to the mansion and stopped to close the gates. It was good to be back home, and he’d never dreamed that his first trip out would be so eventful. Buffy was safe for now. He just had to ensure that she remained so.

~{~}~{~}~

She had been studying him. It was quite dark in the coach and his face was cast in shadow, but she could make out that under his strange, peeling skin it was quite a striking one. And his hair was so white that it had almost shone in the moonlight. He’d rescued her in such a heroic fashion that this sudden withdrawal from her did not fit at all. She knew why he was sitting so silently across from her, but she had to admit to being surprised by the extent of his reaction to her earlier outburst. Perhaps he was overly sensitive because he did not have much contact with the outside world, and of course because of his appearance, but he had practically disappeared into that outmoded coat he was wearing, and he hadn’t said a word to her since.

All the men she’d ever had contact with had been supremely confident, always intent on showing off their manly prowess, and she hadn’t met one yet that she could have intimidated so. Until now. This was the same boy she’d seen watching her at the window the time she’d sneaked into the grounds of the mansion, and she wondered if he remembered her. Without his bad skin he might be quite a handsome man, she thought, and there, she was doing it again. Looking at the superficial, instead of what was underneath.

Earlier, at the cliff edge, she really had seen something special in him. She had no words for it, and had surprised herself by saying it, but it was almost as if each person that walked the earth was really one being spilt into two halves, and at that moment she had found the other part that would make her whole. A fanciful notion, she knew, but one she’d always secretly believed in, but never told anyone about for fear of being laughed at.

As she saw him opening his eyes, she snapped hers closed, not wanting him to think she was staring at him as if he was an attraction at a travelling show. Then she felt the coach slowing and her stomach was suddenly full of butterflies all beating their wings at once. She’d never been particularly afraid of the Angelus legend and the feeling was as much one of anticipation as of fear. Now that she was here, she had no choice but to stay, for where else could she go? Dawn was safely with aunt Joan for the time being, thankfully away from the horror that was waiting for her father to discover in his study.

They would have found him by now, and would be out looking for her. And the shame that her actions would heap upon her family? She gave it a fleeting thought, then dismissed it from her mind. This was her life now, with this man who called himself William, and the strange lad, Alex, who’d thought she was a vampire for some reason, and whoever else lived in this dark, remote place.

As the coach rattled to a halt, William got up and reached out his hand to her once more, and she took it without hesitation. She needed him to know how grateful she was that he’d rescued her, what a special thing it was that he’d done. And she wanted his forgiveness for hurting his feelings.

He stared at their joined hands for a long moment, then looked at her with such longing that she felt her breath catch in her throat. He had such an open and honest face, as if his feelings would always be on display because he’d never learnt to hide them, so she’d always know what he was thinking. And he looked terrified, as if he knew he was doing it, and it would leave him open to heartache, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

And she was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that she needed to put her arms around him and just hold him as he’d held her, but she wasn’t sure how he’d react, so she just limped towards him and let him help her out of the coach He put his hands under her arms and lifted her down.

"Would you like me to..." his voice trailed away as he seemed to be suddenly embarrassed at doing something that he’d done quite spontaneously before.

Elizabeth nodded, giving him permission. She couldn’t have walked into the house unaided anyway, and letting him do this would make him feel better about himself, she reasoned.

"Please, William. I can’t do this without your help." She scanned his face anxiously and he seemed pleased that she’d said that. She told herself that she was making up for the way she’d treated him in the coach, because she really wanted to be friends with this man. But the truth, she knew was she wanted him to pick her up, and touch her because she remembered how nice it had felt before. And this time she wasn’t going to flinch and push him away if he touched her hair, or went that little bit further. The spectre of Caleb’s ghost wasn’t going to reach into this sanctuary to which fate had taken her, a place, she suspected, that wasn’t governed by society’s rules.

How ironic, that what had undoubtedly been William’s prison all these years, was now going to be the source of her freedom. Here she could be anyone she cared to be, and as they passed through the great arched doorway, she mentally said goodbye to Elizabeth who had always done as she was told, and became again, Buffy, that little girl who’d fought so valiantly against the monsters and demons. The house felt silent and dark, but William seemed to know where he was going only this time, rather than just letting him take her she had more of the feeling that she was going with him. She was making that decision and was mightily relieved that it hadn’t involved having to jump off a cliff after all.

He stopped at what she assumed was a bedroom and fumbled with the door handle, turning it and shouldering the door open. Once inside he kicked it closed with his foot, walked over to the four poster bed and put her down on it. Then he threw off his coat and set about removing her shoes, as she sat just staring at him. The feather comforter was soft and inviting and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep. She felt something cold and wet dabbing gently at the corner of her mouth, washing Caleb’s blood off, and then he was urging her back against the soft pillows and she gave in and felt herself drifting away. Her last thought was that he was walking away and leaving her and she didn’t want to be alone in this strange place, so she lifted an arm and called him back. She only managed one word before she fell asleep.

"Stay."

~{~}~{~}~

William turned, stunned as he heard the word. He’d heard it before, calling him back from a place he didn’t yet belong. Now he knew why she'd been so familiar, why he'd had such a strong feeling that he'd seen her before. It was the voice that had called him back from the dead.

A small shiver ran up his spine as he turned around. It couldn't be. The girl in his vision had been nothing but a spectre, but Buffy was warm and living. She'd come from the real world, not from one of shadows and wraiths. As he walked back to the bed he almost expected to see her glowing like the apparition had, but to his relief she was sleeping peacefully, her chest gently rising and falling, the moonlight casting shadows on her face. He resisted the urge to touch her for fear of waking her, but he had to lock his hands firmly behind his back because he wanted to do it so badly.

He'd only brought her to his room because all the others were closed up and musty, he told himself, and because he didn’t want Tara to find her unexpectedly before he’d had a chance to explain her appearance. That, and the other reason. The one he wouldn’t admit to himself. He’d been the one to rescue her so she was his responsibility now, and he was already starting to think of her as belonging to him.

Don’t get too attached, he to told himself, but it was already a long way to being too late. He wondered if she was comfortable sleeping in her voluminous skirts. Why did women feel the need to wear such a lot of clothes? It didn’t look very comfortable at all. He vaguely thought about loosening something for her but felt that he would probably be overstepping the bounds again if he did that. And how did they get their waists so small? Did they do it for themselves, or was it to please their husbands? His mother, in her portrait was dressed in the loose flowing, low-cut gowns of the regency, and they looked so much nicer, he decided. There was a wardrobe full of them left in his mother’s room and he imagined that Buffy would look very good in them.

Whoa, slow down, William. His mind was racing a mile-a-minute, there was so much he wanted to ask her, and watching her sleep made him realise how tired he was too. The start of a headache was reminding him how much he’d drunk earlier in the evening, so he walked over to the washstand, pulling the ribbon from his hair as he did so and starting on the buttons of his shirt. He slipped it off and threw it on the floor, then he dunked his head into the bowl of water and threw it back, finger combing the damp strands of hair off his face. The cold water cleared his head a little, and as he dried himself he thought he ought to put his shirt back on. He wasn’t sure what was proper, as Tara certainly did not seem to mind seeing him naked, but he suspected that it wasn’t done to appear so in front of genteel young ladies. And although he intended sleeping in the chair, she might wake up before him.

Picking the shirt up, he thought he should make an entry in his journal before retiring while this adventure was still fresh in his mind. Tomorrow things were going to seem very different, and it would be interesting to look back on his first impressions of this meeting. He lit a candle and sat himself at his desk. How could he put what had happened in words?

When I say that tonight has been the best night of my life, I do not overstate the fact. It has been like coming back from the dead a second time. I thought I was alive before, but the feelings that this woman has evoked in me are so unfamiliar, both wonderful and frightening at the same time, that I can barely contain them. It is strange how a space must first be filled up before one can see how empty it was. I knew my life had little meaning but I am only now realising how little. Even if tonight is all I get of this captivating woman, then it will have all been worth it. It is something I never thought to have, so every day of it will be a bonus. And here am I, already worrying about her leaving, for she has been with me only a few hours and already were she gone I would feel such a loss.

And here is something else I have learned. That when you have something, there is always the chance that you will lose it, and if losing it would cause such sorrow then better not to hold it too tightly. I should therefore hold back these feelings, that are in grave danger of running out of my control, and not hope for anything from this but that I am helping a damsel in distress. And that knowledge will be my reward.

William put down his pen and left the page open to dry, then he pulled his shirt back on, not bothering with the buttons, and settled himself in Tara’s rocking chair. He kicked off his boots and tried to get comfortable, but it was very difficult for him to do anything other than to think about Buffy lying there in front of him. Young women were very distracting, he thought, and when they were as beautiful as this all you wanted to do was just stare at them and forget everything else.

And he was having that physical reaction to her again. His hand strayed to the front of his trousers as a familiar aching started up and he squeezed his eyes closed and tried to conjure up an image that might make it go away. To tell the truth he’d been in varying states of hardness since she’d sat on his lap, but mercifully she hadn’t seemed to have noticed. It was just another aspect of the wanting, he supposed, and one, he suspected, that could make a man behave most foolishly if he did not keep himself under control. And he could not blame her for it, for she had done nothing to encourage this at all. Except just be there.

He sighed, thinking it was going to be a long and uncomfortable night, but before long he felt himself drifting away into the land of the most lurid dreams he had ever had. He awoke at some time in the early hours breathing heavily and so hot that he had to go and dunk his head again. Even the laudanum-induced hallucinations hadn’t felt this real. He grabbed a pillow from the bed, noticing that Buffy had hardly moved at all and was still sleeping peacefully in the position he’d left her. Whatever had happened to her, then perhaps it hadn’t been so terrible after all if she was able to sleep so soundly. Then he remembered the blood.

He threw himself into the chair and thought that he ought to stay awake so that he could go and explain all this to Tara first thing in the morning. The last thing he wanted was for Tara or Ethan to find her first, but despite his best intentions he was asleep again within minutes.

~{~}~{~}~

The next morning Tara awoke to the strange sight of the coach sitting on the drive and the horses grazing free on what had once been the front lawn. And the even more unexpected sight of a woman in William’s bed.
 

TBC

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