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~ Prologue ~
Sutton Village, England
1815
SASSY WALKED THE short distance from the livery, where’d she left her cob horse and curricle, and made her way to the curio shop that also served as their village book shop. It was a busy time of the morning, nearly lunch, and the wide avenue was bustling with people, horse-drawn wagons, and quite an impressive number of carriages of all sizes, ages, and styles for their quaint village.
The dust they kicked up didn’t do her well-worn blue cloak any good. With a grimace, she brushed and shook off some of the offending dirt as she made her way to the lead-paned window of Mrs. Plummet’s Curio Shop and stepped beneath the awning.
A little bell announced her arrival, and the tall, buxom woman Sassy had known forever looked up from the counter where she was arranging a stack of the new and latest novel that had only just come in. The woman smiled and welcomed Sassy. “Hallo, m’dear, and how is the vicar today?”
Pushing a stray hair away from her ear, Sassy adjusted her chip hat and sighed as she gave Mrs. Plummet a warm smile. “Papa is cranky today, I am afraid. He shooed me off and told me to come into town and purchase a book to keep me busy. He says I am always fussing about him, and he won’t have it.”
Mrs. Plummet laughed and said, “Good then, Sassy love. If he is feeling feisty, perhaps we will have a small miracle and he will take a turn for the better.”
Sassy almost released her pent-up emotions but fought back the urge to dive into Mrs. Plummet’s arms and cry. She held herself in check and unconsciously rubbed the ring on her right hand beneath her glove.
She couldn’t very well tell Mrs. Plummet about the guilt she carried because, once again, she felt useless. She hadn’t been able to save her mother two years ago when she had suddenly fallen ill and died within a week. What good was the power if she couldn’t rid the ones she loved of disease?
Now, her father was not getting any better, and not all the tisanes in the world were helping. Not even those her mother had taught her to concoct had worked to do more than ease his discomfort.
She picked up the latest novel by an author whose name she did not recognize and looked it over. “What do you think?”
“I started reading it last evening. It was very … absorbing.”
“Right then, I’ll give it a try.” Sassy fished in her knit purse for a coin. She shouldn’t be wasting her father’s money on a book, but he had insisted and she didn’t want him to worry about her. It was all he talked about these last few days—her future.
She knew she was going to lose him, and her heart was being ripped to shreds at the thought. How could she do without him and his guidance, especially now?
When her mother had passed, Sassy had been left to carry the burden of what she was alone, except for her father. He had kept her secret, even as he had her mother’s. Now that she had reached her majority, she was experiencing the ‘transition’; without her mother to advise her, only her father could help her.
She should, of course, be able to turn to her mother’s family, but they had disowned their only daughter when she’d defied them to marry a poor young man of the cloth. No
, Sassy would get no guidance from them, although like her they had the ‘power’.
She set these disturbing thoughts aside as she took up the package Mrs. Plummet handed her and made her way outdoors.
Before crossing the avenue, she meandered down the walkway, stopping to look in the window of the village dress shop. It was still there—a gown that had caught her eye the week before. It was breathtaking. Yellow and in the fashionable A-line, low cut, trimmed with Belgium lace, and much too expensive for her. She sighed as she turned away from it.
Her own ensemble beneath the aged cloak, though once a pretty shade of blue, was becoming threadbare. She hadn’t thought much about refurbishing her wardrobe in the last two years. She had been devastated at her mother’s death, and then this year, while her father’s health dwindled, socializing had been out of the question.
The sound of laughter across the street caught her attention, and she glanced in the direction of the hearty noise.
Two men stood at the curbing at the edge of the avenue, but only one of them stood out. It was as though the atmosphere around him glowed, and her heart actually skipped a beat and then made up for the offense by beating faster.
His beaver-skin top hat was set saucily on his head of black silky hair. His black cloak had been rakishly thrown back over one shoulder, revealing not only the cream silk lining but the breadth of his obviously muscular chest.
As Sassy’s gaze traveled up to his face, unconsciously a small breath of air left her lungs, swished up her throat, and escaped in an audible gasp.
He was the most handsome man she had ever seen, but more than that, he was the man who had been making passionate love to her in her dreams!
This was madness. This was … Before she could complete the thought, it happened. Only this time it was different. This time he was right there. He was nearby—the man of her dreams was standing only thirty feet away.
His blue eyes had suddenly locked with hers, and all at once she felt herself transported to another place.
It was a bedroom—and she recognized the bedroom, for she had been there many times in her dreams. It was as though she were in a theater shamelessly watching herself, watching him—watching, experiencing things she had no physical knowledge of.
She was a virgin, and yet in her dream she had been his intimately many times. Now, with him so near, she saw herself naked and lying across dark, smooth sheets.
He was bending towards her, his blue eyes glittering, his black, silky hair falling across and touching her breasts as he licked her nipple and then suckled there with expertise that sent her body into a convulsion of pleasure. His fingers moved over her flesh, and she could feel herself clench with desire as he touched—
What … ? No! No—this was just schoolgirls’ talk coming back to haunt her. This had to stop. She had to stop. She tried to break with the vision. How could she know what it would feel like to have a man … how could she know?
And then she saw something in his eyes across the avenue that told her a fact she could not deny: she wasn’t having this illusion alone. He was as well. It was so real and not only for her—but for him also!
When he took a step into the street towards her, Sassy Winthrop ran as fast as her little walking boots could take her and escaped around the corner.
~ One ~
THE VICAR’S ROOM was in darkness as Sassy got up from her chair, where she had been keeping vigil. She opened the curtains to allow morning light into the room.
“Sassy,” her father whispered hoarsely.
She turned and ran to sit near him on the bed. The sheets felt cold to the touch, and she frowned.
