Chapter One
The cold Octobergales shrieked across the sea, reaching the manor house within which the eighth earl of Darkmoor lived—or some would say barely existed—five years after the disappearance of his dearest joy, his future wife, Lady Raven Winthrop, the daughter of the Duke of Everly.
The night she went missing brought back vivid memories. As if the lady stood before him in the flesh—her crystal, blue eyes focused on him, her black hair, reaching the small of her back, unbound and wavy, lifting in the breeze to show off her delicate, pale skin, and proud shoulders in the crimson gown she had worn the night they were to formally announce their engagement.
The northlands of England, the famed moors of legend, were a nightmare to some, frightening them. But not to the noble inhabitants of the rich and vast lands. These people,hispeople, were tireless and loyal, hard-working and prosperous. Their children survived the cold winters and thrived in the short summer months. Twas a fair trade for inhabiting a long-cursed place. The ancient Vikings who had invaded and subdued his ancestors had long since died off—leaving behind a mixed bloodline and traditions as old as time.
He braced himself on the iron railing that ran the length of the balcony overlooking the lake below his study. He gripped the railing so hard, his fingers went numb. The sun would set soon, and it was then his mind would play games with him, never letting him forget her countenance, her smile, and tinkling laughter that had promised to bring light into his world.
Their world…
How much easier it would be to endure, one foot firmly planted in the world of the living, the other in the realm of the near-dead, those whose souls had no purpose to keep going but had no choice but to draw air every day. Yet he must hold on, for he had a younger brother and sister to think of, and he would not have them suffer as he did.
He sucked in a deep breath, picturing his beloved Raven, hungering for whatever part of her still haunted his mind and heart, and every stone of his manor. As he turned, a light knock sounded at the door.
He sighed, unhappy with the intrusion. “Come.”
The double doors flew open, and his golden-haired sister, Valerie, ran to him, arms open wide. “James,” she said with genuine affection. “Why were you not at dinner?”
He returned her embrace and smiled into her soft hair. “Need I explain every year, sweet girl?” At fifteen, his sister looked more and more like their dearly departed mother every day. “Tis the night…”
She drew back from him, gazing up at her beloved brother. “Raven…”
“Do not speak her name aloud,” he said, looking about the dark room. “If we utter her name…”
“She holds no power here, James. No ability to make you suffer. If you’d only let her go.”
James released her and stepped away, staring out the open doors again, breathing in the thick, salt air. “Can the sky let go of the sun? The night set free the moon to go on her merry way? The stars descend upon the earth and do as they please?”
Valerie had understood from a very young age what tragic loss meant, for their parents had died in a carriage accident. “No,” she admitted. “But those things could never happen. You see the world through the sad eyes of a poet, not the proud and powerful lord you were born to be.”
“There is a fine line between reality and dreams. Love and hate. Life and death.”
“No.” She closed the distance between them, taking his hand firmly. “You are the master of your fate, dear brother. Capable of banishing Lady Raven from your life. Take hold of what is in front of you. Me and Edward, your sister and brother. Our dear Aunt Mitty. And Lauren, the woman who wishes to marry you.”
He swung about then, incapable of loving another, of imagining what it would be like to take a wife other than Raven, his Raven. “Lady Lauren must never come here again.”
“But she is a suitable wife for you. And we can go back to London and enjoy our friends again.”
“No.”
“James, please.”
He could hardly resist her pleading tone, but London held no interest to him. And he would not waste his time and energy thinking about that stifling place. “Do you not love our home? The wide, open space? The moors? Our people?”
“I do,” she said without hesitation. “But we have been out of mourning for years, and I am no longer a child.”
“No.” He faced her and tilted her chin up, admiring her pretty features. “You are truly a lady. And in need of a husband soon, I think.”
She frowned. “Are you in such a hurry to be rid of me?”
“No. Only to find a way to let you live again. It was never my intention to keep you here, to make you miserable.”
“When you are happy, I am happy, Brother.”
Their brother came into the study then. “What has happened?”
James gazed at him. When had he become so tall and handsome? His younger sibling was near eighteen now—a man in his own right.
