Somewhere My Lady
Ladies in Time, Book One
Lorna Randolph is hired for the summer at Harrison Hall in Virginia, where Revolutionary-War reenactors provide guided tours of the elegant old home. She doesn't expect to receive a note and a kiss from a handsome young man who then vanishes into mist.
Harrison Hall itself has plans for Lorna – and for Hart Harrison, her momentary suitor and its 18th century heir. Past and present are bound by pledges of love, and modern science melds with old skills and history as Harrison Hall takes Lorna and Hart through time in a race to solve a mystery and save Hart's life before the Midsummer Ball.
Something about him held her spellbound…the tilt of his head, arch of his brow, glimpse of his profile… She followed his every move with the fixity of an owl.
He turned blue-gray eyes toward her and sensuous lips curved into a smile on his handsome face.
Hands down. No contest. He was the hottest guy ever. Her heart beat a thrilling new rhythm.
He circled closer to where she stood rooted in the foyer, not moving a toe, scarcely drawing breath. Did he truly see her backed tremulously against the wall, or did it only feel that way?
Unlike the others in the ghostly assembly, his eyes didn’t skirt past her. He paused in the dance. Bending at the shoulders, he tipped his hand to her in a genteel flourish.
He’d freakin’ bowed. Her jaw dropped. He most definitely saw her. And she sure as heck saw him.
A sparking sizzle jumped between them, awakening her as she’d never been roused before. Even more than when the house charged through her at her arrival. It was as if she were plugged in—to him.
How that could be, she had no idea, but when he gazed into her eyes, time seemed to stop. She spiraled into moonless stars, and back again to this dizzying realm. To him. Even if she were dreaming, she’d never forget this moment.
“Dance with me.” He beckoned to her.
“I don’t know how.” She forced the panted reply past the tightness in her throat.
He shook his head. “Nae, lady. You are grace itself.”
Gallant of him to say. “Clearly, you’ve never seen me play tennis.”
Humor flickered in his eyes and touched his mouth. “I should like to.” A look of urgency displaced the fleeting mirth. “Wait. Stay a moment,” he entreated.
Was she fading into dreamland, or was he?
Freeing himself from the others, he dashed to her and slipped something into her hand. “Keep this.” His voice a whisper in her ear. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
She eyed him incredulously. “But how—”
“Did I know you would be here?” he finished for her, melting tenderness in his gaze. “Because we have been here before.” He gestured at the doorway. “Danced through the foyer and into the garden.”
He answered by cupping his hands to her face and pressing his warm lips to hers in a brief, but impassioned kiss. Any remaining breath she had was forfeited to him.
“Until we meet again, sweet lady.” He swept her a bow and was gone, and the others with him, like the mist vanishing in the sun streaming through the windows.
She stared after him, or the place he’d been, with her lips slightly parted. There were no words, only her wildly beating heart.
She shook her head to clear it, almost expecting the party—and him—to reappear. No. She was alone in the foyer. It was a dream. He was, too. Had to be. The most vivid, never-to-be-forgotten, dream ever. But she was awake, and when she glanced at her hand, she still held the scrap of paper.
Unfolding it, she mouthed, Wait for me, a simple request inked in penmanship that reflected the bold spirit of the young man who’d given it to her.