few moments earlier returned with a
vengeance, and he dropped to his knees. The monster blocking his
exit was Death, come to collect him. He had to get out of there,
get away before the demon took his life.
But isn't that what you want? To leave this world?
Leave the loneliness of having lost all those you love?
The fear coursing through his body seemed to answer
back, No! I want to live! Get up!
Past Duke tilted his face toward the ceiling. "Why
did I think this would be easy?"
Donovan lurched to his feet and backed away. The
vision of himself filled the doorway, the room, demanding his full
attention. "W-what do y-you want from me?"
The ghost stalked him. "I want the same thing you
want. The life I should have had — could have had, if you hadn't
been such a fool."
"I-I-I don't understand." Donovan collided with the
wall. His body shook so violently that his teeth banged against
each other.
Past Duke stopped in front of him. "You will soon
enough. You, my dear fellow, are going to go back to the past and
fix it."
"Fix the past? Fix what?"
"You're going to set right what you did wrong."
"I've gone mad," he whispered.
"Your heart cries with the regret and sorrow from the
past. I'm the person you should have been, still can be. But only
if you can set the future on the right course," Past Duke said.
A shiver ran up Donovan's spine. "What foolishness is
this? I beg you for mercy. Let me awaken from this nightmare."
"You've spent eight years punishing yourself far more
than I ever could." Sorrow crossed the past duke's face. The lines
on his brow deepened; his lips turned down slightly.
"So your intentions are to make my suffering worse?"
Donovan snapped. No one needed to remind him of what he'd lost…
what he didn't have.
"Of course not. I intend to send you back to
Christmas Eve 1812."
Donovan hrumphed. "And how would that be?"
"Like this."
Past Duke shoved him hard in the chest, pressed so
forcefully Donovan was sure the apparition's fingers touched his
heart, causing it to momentarily stop. Then his thoughts ceased and
darkness consumed him.
Chapter Two
December 24, 1812
Donovan's heart cried as bits and pieces of images
from his past danced through his mind. Each one somehow tied to the
next, as if leading him somewhere specific. Where he couldn't
guess, because his eyes refused to open, no matter how hard he
tried.
One by one, the conjured memories flashed in front of
him. Strange memories… ones that showed sadness. But a mind
remembered as it wanted. Surely the sadness he saw on his sisters'
faces was just a reflection of his own heartbreak. Daphne and Diana
had been given secure futures with men highly respected by the ton . Wasn't a good marriage the ambition of all women? Yet
the pictures parading through his mind depicted a very different
reality.
His older sister Daphne's wedding. She'd been
eighteen and he'd been a boy of fifteen. The bubbly enthusiasm that
had always sparkled in her brown eyes seemed to disappear with each
tear that rolled down her cheek, leaving behind shimmering pools of
anguish. On her wedding day? Why had he never realized they weren't
tears of joy?
Having grown into a man of twenty and learned the
ways of the world, he'd assumed Diana's solemn expression and dead
eyes reflected her fear of the wedding night. After all, she'd been
but a girl of seventeen. But now… now he saw things more clearly.
He'd stood at the back of the church after the ceremony. Rather
than stay by her new husband's side and greet their guests, Diana
had hidden in a small alcove with Tess, crying. They'd been
whispering, and he hadn't been able to make out the words. But it
had been tears of agony his sister cried, not panic.
Tess's angelically beautiful face swam into view
again. Her baby blue eyes held him mesmerized, pulling him in
completely. He drew closer, unable to resist the warm invitation in
her penetrating stare, not that he wanted to resist it. He had to
taste her, had to
vengeance, and he dropped to his knees. The monster blocking his
exit was Death, come to collect him. He had to get out of there,
get away before the demon took his life.
But isn't that what you want? To leave this world?
Leave the loneliness of having lost all those you love?
The fear coursing through his body seemed to answer
back, No! I want to live! Get up!
Past Duke tilted his face toward the ceiling. "Why
did I think this would be easy?"
Donovan lurched to his feet and backed away. The
vision of himself filled the doorway, the room, demanding his full
attention. "W-what do y-you want from me?"
The ghost stalked him. "I want the same thing you
want. The life I should have had — could have had, if you hadn't
been such a fool."
"I-I-I don't understand." Donovan collided with the
wall. His body shook so violently that his teeth banged against
each other.
Past Duke stopped in front of him. "You will soon
enough. You, my dear fellow, are going to go back to the past and
fix it."
"Fix the past? Fix what?"
"You're going to set right what you did wrong."
"I've gone mad," he whispered.
"Your heart cries with the regret and sorrow from the
past. I'm the person you should have been, still can be. But only
if you can set the future on the right course," Past Duke said.
A shiver ran up Donovan's spine. "What foolishness is
this? I beg you for mercy. Let me awaken from this nightmare."
"You've spent eight years punishing yourself far more
than I ever could." Sorrow crossed the past duke's face. The lines
on his brow deepened; his lips turned down slightly.
"So your intentions are to make my suffering worse?"
Donovan snapped. No one needed to remind him of what he'd lost…
what he didn't have.
"Of course not. I intend to send you back to
Christmas Eve 1812."
Donovan hrumphed. "And how would that be?"
"Like this."
Past Duke shoved him hard in the chest, pressed so
forcefully Donovan was sure the apparition's fingers touched his
heart, causing it to momentarily stop. Then his thoughts ceased and
darkness consumed him.
Chapter Two
December 24, 1812
Donovan's heart cried as bits and pieces of images
from his past danced through his mind. Each one somehow tied to the
next, as if leading him somewhere specific. Where he couldn't
guess, because his eyes refused to open, no matter how hard he
tried.
One by one, the conjured memories flashed in front of
him. Strange memories… ones that showed sadness. But a mind
remembered as it wanted. Surely the sadness he saw on his sisters'
faces was just a reflection of his own heartbreak. Daphne and Diana
had been given secure futures with men highly respected by the ton . Wasn't a good marriage the ambition of all women? Yet
the pictures parading through his mind depicted a very different
reality.
His older sister Daphne's wedding. She'd been
eighteen and he'd been a boy of fifteen. The bubbly enthusiasm that
had always sparkled in her brown eyes seemed to disappear with each
tear that rolled down her cheek, leaving behind shimmering pools of
anguish. On her wedding day? Why had he never realized they weren't
tears of joy?
Having grown into a man of twenty and learned the
ways of the world, he'd assumed Diana's solemn expression and dead
eyes reflected her fear of the wedding night. After all, she'd been
but a girl of seventeen. But now… now he saw things more clearly.
He'd stood at the back of the church after the ceremony. Rather
than stay by her new husband's side and greet their guests, Diana
had hidden in a small alcove with Tess, crying. They'd been
whispering, and he hadn't been able to make out the words. But it
had been tears of agony his sister cried, not panic.
Tess's angelically beautiful face swam into view
again. Her baby blue eyes held him mesmerized, pulling him in
completely. He drew closer, unable to resist the warm invitation in
her penetrating stare, not that he wanted to resist it. He had to
taste her, had to
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