Chapter 7

The last chocolate chip cookie disappeared into Sam’s mouth. She brushed crumbs from her clothes, returning the milk carton to the giant fridge. Scuffing her way into the center hallway, she marveled at the many decorations brought in during the day. She lingered on a display of children’s artwork. Pilgrims and Indians shared a meal of giant sized corn and odd colored pies in one depiction. Turkey hands with happy faces filled another. Orange and brown paper chains framed the entire exhibit. She fondly recalled the smell of construction paper and paste from childhood.

Local schoolchildren would be visiting in a couple of days, and her heart swelled at the prospect. She liked the school tours best, understanding how important little things like a field trip were in a child’s life. A spark of interest, a caring adult to introduce something new, could be life altering. After all, the older couple who adopted her had molded her. A love of books and old movies came from her father, a schoolteacher. The drive to excel at a career came from her mother, a woman who had worked every job imaginable.

Or did it? Maybe some of who she was came from a deeper place—the never-ending desire to fill the void in her heart. It had always been there, and only grown larger when her parents passed within six months of one another. One from cancer, and the other from what Sam always considered a broken heart. Bad news for a girl abandoned as a child. At the tender age of twenty-one, she was alone again and vulnerable. It was then she’d agreed to let Ross move in.

Continuing down the hallway, she paused in front of the display from Kristine’s group. She pressed a push-button switch on the floor and watched as the large glass case lit up. Bright lights made the contents appear almost magical. Front and center was the rose-colored ball gown. It had a full skirt, tiered in the front and bustled in the back, accented with ribbons and shimmering beads. A choker-style necklace of pearls and teardrop crystals graced the headless mannequin’s sleek neck. Long white gloves completed the ensemble.

“Wow,” Sam sighed, her breath fogging up the glass. She swiped at it with her sleeve and stepped back. Her image—worn sweatshirt and jeans, hair pulled up in a sloppy ponytail—reflected in the glass superimposed over the stunning dress. She chewed her bottom lip. “I need to try this on.” I couldn’t! She looked around. Who was there to stop her?

It was a tight squeeze as she climbed into the case through a side door. She shimmied the mannequin out and slid the gown off before grabbing the necklace and gloves. “If I’m resorting to breaking and entering, I might as well accessorize.”

****

“Hello, Cinderella.”

Sam grinned as she primped before the full-length mirror.

One last pearl clip and… Perfect! She smoothed her hair in the elegant knot allowing stray wisps to fall around her face.

Ross would have a party with this. The invasive thought made her frown. He would call her stupid and laugh until she took the dress off. She pushed the notion aside.

Moving carefully, she tested the unfamiliar weight and feel of the gown. It was tight, constricting in ways to accentuate the female figure. A hint of breast swelled at the neckline. Stiff layers of petticoats swished when she swayed from side to side. She pretended to dance, imagining herself gliding around Highland’s ballroom with someone tall, dark, and handsome.

“Robert Pennington.” The name tumbled effortlessly from her lips.

Sam pulled herself up short. This is nuts, dreaming of him again.

With an exasperated huff, she reached for her old clothes. Her wishing stone tumbled from the heap to the floor. She stared at the thing. Wishing is for children.

Yet she snatched it up.

Music sprang to life downstairs making her jump. Holy crap, someone is in the house!

Panicked, she struggled with the fastening of the dress. It was no use. She was busted. How would she explain the naked mannequin?

Sam rushed to the apartment door and cracked it opened to listen. She knew all the piped in Classical music they played during the workday. This was not their music. Her eyes went wide at the distant rumble of laughter.

Dizziness hit her hard as she worked her way into the hall. Don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint… She clutched the railing and inched down the staircase. It grew dark. Tunnel vision? No. It is darker!

Her hand flew to her mouth when she reached the last step. The wallpaper, the furnishings, everything in the house was changed. Candles! Gaslights! Even the air smelled different.

“I’m gonna be sick,” she moaned, slumping against the wall. Her head buzzed like a jar of angry bees.

“You’re late.”

Sam shrieked when a stranger appeared beside her.

“You’ve missed dinner, but perhaps Mother won’t mind.” A girl wore an angry face, fixing her hands on her hips.

“Who…who are you?” Sam trembled with her back to the wall.

“Oh please, you look like Charlie when I put spiders in his bed.” The girl sighed dramatically. “Well, don’t just stand there, silly. Come along before the dancing begins or you’ll miss that, too.”

Golden ringlets bounced as she hauled Sam off the wall. In a yellow gown trimmed with white lace, this was Alice, leading her down the rabbit hole.

I’m dreaming. Just dreaming. Wake up!

“Hurry up.”

“Where are you taking me?”

Before Sam got an answer, she was standing in a crowded ballroom, the sounds of conversation, laughter, and music crashing over her in nauseating waves.

“We have another guest for my party, dear brother.” The girl’s happy voice rose above the din.

Sam couldn’t breathe as a group of men paused in discussion. The man in the center turned to face them. Robert Pennington!

“Robbie, this is Miss…Miss… Oh bother, I thought I knew everyone invited.”

Sam sensed eyes on her, yet she could not look away. Robert Pennington is standing right in front of me! She trembled as beautiful gray eyes held her in place. His mouth twitched into a curious smile. The result was spectacular. Dressed in black evening clothes, dark hair smoothed away from his clean-shaven face. This was not the broken man from the parlor. This Robert Pennington was absolutely stunning. Confident, commanding, larger than life.

“What’s your name?” the girl demanded.

“Merrill,” Sam croaked. She swallowed hard. “I’m Samantha Merrill.”

“Ohhh, you must be one of those Connecticut Merrills Mother is so fond of. Are we distant cousins? I hope so. You’re very pretty.” She oozed excitement, seeming quite willing to accept Sam as one of their own.

“You simply must come and see the puppy Robbie gave me. Mother made me put him in the kitchen, but he’s just the sweetest thing.” She danced around, weaving figure eights between Sam and Robert. “Oh how I love my thirteenth birthday. And I love you too, big brother.” She jumped up to smack a loud kiss on Robert’s cheek.

“Thank you, Amelia.” He grinned before fixing his stare back on Sam. He gave her a curt bow. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Merrill. Welcome to our home.”

Sam held her breath, waiting for any hint of recognition. There was none.

“Come on,” Amelia whined. “Don’t just stand there. Come and see Mr. Scruffy.” She tugged Sam’s elbow, leading the way from the ballroom. Robert’s gaze remained locked with hers until they were out of view.

With the spell broken, Sam was able to focus again. The wishing stone was still in her hand. She shoved the thing into her tight cleavage and picked up the pace to keep up with the girl. When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she slid to a halt.

Gone… The stainless steel catering carts, the white tile floor, the huge refrigerator and professional range, everything she knew was gone. There was a long wooden table in the center of the room covered with copper pots and plates of food. Shelves lined with boxes and fabric sacks framed the room. Women in long black dresses and white aprons hurried about, laboring in the sweltering heat.

Amelia was in a darkened corner, kneeling beside a wooden box. Sam approached slowly. There, snuggled in a nest of towels, was a small beige and white puppy. He was sleeping peacefully, his little pink belly rising and falling with each soft breath.

“Isn’t he the most darling thing you’ve ever seen? I love him already. Do you believe in love at first sight, Miss Merrill?”

Sam’s heart skipped. She hoped so—prayed for it even—especially after seeing this new Robert Pennington.

The teen’s innocent face turned her way awaiting a reply.

“I suppose I do,” Sam ventured.

“Mother says I’m a silly goose because I read romantic stories. But I adore them, especially the ones about the West. Did you know there are women there who hunt buffalo?” Amelia’s expression turned thoughtful. “Robbie doesn’t think I’m silly. He says I’m high-spirited.”

Sam was speechless. The idea of Robert as ‘Robbie’ to this girl gave her pause. The idea of him at all made her feel completely unhinged. Somehow, whether dreaming or awake, she was in Highland House with the Pennington family.

“Well, we’d best get back to my party.” Amelia snatched up her hand before she could protest. “Mother says it’s wrong to pay too much attention to one party guest when we have a house full of others. So many rules.

“Would you like punch? I would like punch.” The girl prattled on, changing subjects so fast Sam’s head spun. “Oh, but you can have champagne, Miss Merrill. Mother says I have to wait till I’m older.” Amelia pulled her close. “She doesn’t know Robbie sneaks me a sip on special occasions.”

Sam couldn’t hold back a grin, imagining the girl’s indulgent brother until they were back in the ballroom standing before him. She let out a shaky breath, a nervous girl sound, which she was sure he’d heard. Her eyes inched up to find him watching her, keen interest clear on his face. Her cheeks warmed.

Amelia pushed Sam’s hand at him. “Dance with Miss Merrill, Robbie.”

Their fingers fumbled when he reached for her, his large hand engulfing her smaller one. They were both wearing gloves, and yet their first touch was electric. His eyes widened as though he’d felt it too, and a slow, confident smile turned his lips. Sam remembered those lips on her skin, burning up all reason in a flash. Why didn’t he remember?

She eased her hand from his.

“Oh, don’t fret, Miss Merrill. Just dance with him,” Amelia chided. “No one needs to be formal at a private ball. Besides, I’ve decided I want to eat cake before Charles gets all the good parts.” She hurried off, leaving them alone.

“You must forgive my sister.” Robert chuckled. “I’m afraid Amelia’s youthful enthusiasm far outweighs any sense of decorum.”

Testing her voice, Sam hoped it wouldn’t fail. “She’s delightful. What girl wouldn’t be excited about a puppy? I mean, come on, it’s a puppy. I would be excited. You know, if you… I mean if someone were to…” She fell silent under the weight of his growing amusement.

“Perhaps I should gift puppies more often,” he teased. “I had no idea the female population was so enamored with them. If it would earn me good favor in the eyes of such a beauty…Well, then…”

Sam smothered a smile and turned away, choosing anywhere other than his handsome face to look. Her eyes connected with another woman’s across the ballroom. She recognized her immediately from the photos in the Gallery Hall. Olivia Pennington, the Lady of Highland House, did not look pleased.

“Is it hot in here?” She fanned her face with her hands.

“Something to drink perhaps?” Robert grabbed a wineglass from a passing tray and handed it to her. His dark brows rose when she gulped it down in one swift motion. “Tell me, Miss Merrill, have you traveled far to be with us tonight?”

She choked, her eyes watering. “You could say that.”

He looked puzzled yet determined. “You have friends in the area then?”

“Yes, I have friends. Lots of friends. Here.” She faltered. “I mean in the area.” Meeting his piercing gaze, she nearly slid to the floor. What could she say? I live in this house! I have friends right here! Her gaze fixed on the center of his wide chest.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, he motioned to the couples pairing up. A new tune swelled through the crowd. “Would you care to dance? I don’t often partake, yet I find I should very much like to dance with you. I promise not to behave as boldly as my sister.”

Braving a glance, Sam watched his features soften with an easy smile. Tiny lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. She melted a bit at his patient determination. Robert Pennington was courting her. “All right,” she whispered. “But if I step on your toes…”

“I assume all responsibility. However, it will most likely be your toes smarting.”

He led her toward the crowded dance floor, his hand on the small of her back. The lightest touch, yet it set off a chain reaction, like fireworks igniting through Sam’s body. She suddenly wanted him to remember everything…the way he’d held her, touched her. Awake or dreaming, this man, this place, this instant in time, was the most thrilling event of her entire life.

Someone bumped them, and she would have stumbled had it not been for Robert.

“Perhaps she can’t dance.” Icy laughter followed the feminine voice.

Sam spun around to find a beautiful, dark haired woman. Beside her was a tall, boyishly handsome man. She was glaring, he was grinning, both eyeing her as though she were a lamb who’d wandered into the wolf’s lair.

The man snatched up Sam’s hand and kissed it, lingering a bit too long based on Robert’s dark scowl.

“I see you have a new friend, Robbie. How delightful. I’m Edward Kingston, and this jealous creature is my sister, Rebecca.”

Rebecca raised her chin with an indignant sniff. She was breathtaking in blue satin, skin like fine porcelain, her eyes the color of deep cobalt. Sam instantly hated her.

Robert stepped forward, wedging his body between them as if to shield her. “May I present Miss Samantha Merrill?”

“Delighted.” Edward pushed past Robert to claim her hand again.

“Delighted, delightful, is that all you can say?” Rebecca shot her brother a scathing look. “You’re such a bore, Eddie.”

“Careful, dear sister, your claws are showing.” He turned to Robert. “Come now, old chap. You can’t keep all the beauties for yourself. Share this one. I promise to give her back.”

Before Sam could protest, Edward Kingston drew her away. She strained, looking over her shoulder to see Rebecca’s face turn grim as she spoke with Robert.

“Best leave him alone, my pet. He’s the only one she wants, and she always gets her way.”

A small group of musicians played as he attempted to lead Sam into the dance. The room felt as if it was closing in—bodies swaying, people laughing, the heat of a thousand candles burning in the chandeliers.

She planted her feet. “I don’t want to dance.”

“Suit yourself.”

Wrenching free of him, she escaped through a patio door and slipped out into the night.

Frosty air enveloped her, but Sam didn’t care. She had to get away, needed a safe place to think before she freaked out or fainted. Or both! An eerily familiar landscape stretched out beyond the patio railing, offering no comfort. Tall shadows passed over the window and she bolted, hurrying down a stone path away from the house. Tiny candle-filled lanterns lit her way as she fled toward the dark yard below.

Sliding through a garden gate, Sam muttered under her breath, “This should be the staff parking lot behind the house.” Instead, there were marble statues and long hedgerows, brown from the winter’s chill. Her shoes crunched gravel as she marched the pattern of the maze-like space. Cold penetrated her skin like tiny needles. She rubbed her bare arms. “This isn’t a dream. Either I’m lying in some mental ward on a morphine drip, or I’m back in time.”

She froze.

“If only we could travel back in time.” Robert’s words from their night in the parlor.

“Oh no, this is bad, very bad.”

“Miss Merrill?”

Sam hoisted up her skirts, dashing away at the sound of the male voice. Shrubbery snagged her.

Robert caught her by the arm before she toppled over. “Miss Merrill, are you well?”

“Yes… No… I mean I can’t get away from these God damn—” The curse died on her lips as strong arms tightened around her waist.

“Stop struggling,” he commanded. “I’ll help you.” He held her, wrestling with the bushes until she was free. “Why did you rush off?” he asked in a gruff tone as his gaze raked over every inch of her.

Sam smoothed her gown, feigning composure. She hiked up her chin. “I was hot.”

“A gracious excuse to be sure, but I’ve witnessed what the Kingston brats are capable of. What did Eddie say, or worse, do to you?”

“Nothing, I needed air. A walk to clear my head.”

A changeable mix of confusion and frustration crossed his face. There was obviously some weird dynamic between the threesome. Moreover, he probably didn’t know what to do with the strange woman who’d crashed his sister’s birthday ball.

“Very Well, then, I shall accompany you on your walk. I would not wish for you to become lost in the dark.” He frowned when she shivered. “You’re not properly dressed for this weather.”

Before Sam could deny him, he pulled off his coat and positioned it over her shoulders. The intoxicating scent of him surrounded her—crisp clean man, shaving soap, and the spice of fine tobacco. Heat from his body lingered in the fabric, caressing her frozen skin. All the passion he’d awakened in the parlor rushed back to her. When he offered his arm, she took it and held on for dear life.

After a few agonizing moments, Robert broke their silence. “I must confess. Strolling in gardens is not something I do often. I suppose this would be much more appealing in the summer months.” His voice hinted at sarcasm as they ducked under a low arbor covered with dead vines.

“It’s fine,” she countered in a tight voice.

“Perhaps you are from a hardier place, somewhere cold?” he prodded smoothly though his tone held a smile.

“It’s…similar.”

“You should visit in the summertime then. To compare. Will you be staying long?”

“My plans are…unclear.”

“Ah, how I envy a woman of leisure.” He chuckled. “No schedules to keep.”

“I’m hardly a woman of leisure,” Sam blurted out before thinking. High society, strolling in gardens, making small talk—where was Kristine when she needed her?

“I see. You have hobbies,” he politely surmised. “My mother is exceedingly proud of her roses. She’s convinced Amelia will come ’round to gardening, but I fear it’s hopeless.”

“Your sister seems more the adventurous type. I’m sure you know better than anyone.”

Robert stopped abruptly and faced her. “How do we know you, Miss Merrill?”

Like a goldfish caught in a net, she gaped at him. What could she say? We met when you were haunting this house? When you tried to make love to me in the parlor?

He stared down, studying her, until a slow sexy smile crossed his face. Moving closer, his height dwarfed her, blocking out all light spilling down from the house. “We have never met before, have we?”

Sam held her breath.

“I’ve not seen you in Boston or Newport, have I? And you’re not from Connecticut.”

A slight shake of her head was all she could manage.

“A man would surely never forget you.” The deep timbre of his voice had turned intimate.

Sam gasped when his hand slid up her side. The tightness of the gown amplified the touch, as if he were caressing bare skin. She couldn’t speak as her body careened off track from her mind.

“Perhaps Amelia isn’t the only one receiving gifts this night,” he whispered, nuzzling her hair. At her small sound of protest, he murmured, “It’s all right, we shall speak no more of it.” Tipping her chin to look in her eyes, his gaze was calm, confident, consuming. He pulled her hard against him, their bodies melding in the night air.

Robert leaned down to place a hot kiss on her cheek, a mere breath away from her lips. “Kingston chased you out here, knowing I would follow, didn’t he? My wicked, wicked friend. I should do the right thing and send you away, yet I find I cannot. You’ve snared me in your trap.” He breathed against her ear before nipping it.

Sam’s knees threatened to buckle. She was out in the gardens of Highland House, in the dark, with Robert Pennington, and—

“Wait, what?” She tensed. “What trap? Just who do you think I am?”

He immediately released her. “I thought Eddie… He’s been known to…to send women.”

She shoved him away. “You thought wrong, mister.”

“But he was so familiar with you. And you arrived uninvited…”

“He’s the familiar one, not me.”

Robert cursed. “I am mistaken then.” He took a step back. “Forgive me. I have promised not to behave boldly, and yet here I am breaking my promise the moment you are in my care.”

Sam grappled with the urge to storm off, to tell him she was perfectly able to take care of herself. But was she? Who knew what she would find if she left him? She looked around, considering her options. Strangers in one direction. Darkness and the unknown in all others. This was Highland House. She lived here…and yet she didn’t.

“Let us resume our walk. Please,” he added when she shot him an “are you kidding me?” look. He presented his arm, waiting. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Finally, she accepted, and they walked off together in strained silence.

Fear and uncertainty coiled through her as she stewed, wondering how to get out of this mess. Her churning thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she recognized the place they ended up. This is the Carriage House Theater! The lampposts were all gone, replaced by gaslight torches, yet the heavy iron gates framing the front walls were the same. In her time, a Summer Stock theater spread out behind them.

A passing man touched the brim of his cap in greeting, and Robert nodded like a true lord of the manor.

What they watched together was entrancing. Drivers and groomsmen moving about like a precision team. Men wove in and around carriages while horses pawed the earth, their breath puffing out like dragon smoke. Taking her hand, Robert guided her to safety as a carriage moved forward, its harnesses rattling and clanking.

“You’re frozen. I feel it through our gloves.” He rubbed her icy fingers as if caring for a hurt child. “Enough of this madness, we must go inside. My guilt will only be compounded should you fall ill.”

Sam didn’t argue as her teeth chattered. Still holding her hand, he ushered her into the house, waving away anxious servants.

“Let me make amends, Miss Merrill,” he urged. “Say you will sit with me by the parlor fireplace. Much has transpired between us, yet I only wish to know you better. Let’s begin again, without the attention of…others.”

Unwilling to take on the ballroom again, she blurted out the only thing she could think to say. “Only if you’ll call me Samantha.”

“Samantha,” he repeated, the inflection in his voice transforming her name into something wonderfully exotic. “And you shall call me Robert.” His intense gaze wandered over her face like a slow caress. “May we begin again, Samantha?”

“I’d like that, Robert.” She gave him a shy smile.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, rumpling it. “Hundreds of people say my name on any given day, yet I am undone by your rendition.” He cleared his throat and looked away as if surprised by what he’d just admitted. “I shall return soon if you’ll wait for me. Can I get us something to ward off the chill?”

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but I could really use a drink.”

A rakish grin was her reward.

“Wait,” she called after him when he went to leave. She slipped his coat off her shoulders. “You’re gonna need this. We wouldn’t want anyone else to get the wrong idea, now would we?”

Robert laughed then, a deep, genuine sound, which warmed Sam down to her toes. He was gorgeous when he laughed.

“I’ve no care for what others think. But for you.” He took the coat, lingering in the parlor doorway until she took a seat by the fireplace.

Sam felt strangely empty when he left, as if all the life had gone out of her. She stared into the flames trying to calm her racing mind and reckless heart. “Oh Kristine, you have no idea how right you were,” she said under her breath. Despite everything that had happened, Sam was the lovesick teenager now. Robert Pennington would be back soon—he’d promised—and the mere thought of the man sent a shiver of anticipation skipping through her.

Robert is handsome, and funny, smart. And—

Her thoughts crystallized. Alive.

“He’s alive,” she whispered as if needing to hear the words aloud to know they were true.

She had to warn him. Everything would go to hell if she didn’t stop the events she knew were coming. Could she do it? Change his future? Save him? Would he even listen if she told him what she knew—the shipwreck and all the horrors to come? Would he believe her? It could backfire in so many ways, and yet she had to try.

Rushing from the room, Sam spied Robert in the center hallway coming toward her with two glasses. He smiled when their eyes locked. The house suddenly went bright—like a thousand camera flashes going off at once—and she shielded her eyes. In the next instant, she was alone, a naked mannequin standing before her.

“No,” she cried running to the place where he had been. She ran to the ballroom next, bursting through the French doors. Red light from an exit sign reflected off the empty parquet floor. The music and laughter were gone. The only sound remaining was the grandfather clock in the center hallway. It chimed out as if on cue before going silent.

In a zombie-like trance, she returned the beautiful rose-colored gown to the display case, covering up all evidence of the bizarre experience. She went through the motions of shutting down the house, fighting the urge to cry, scream, or run away.

But where would she go? It was too late now to make it all go away. She knew the story, had met the people. She’d traveled back in time somehow, connecting with them in their own world. How could she feel nothing knowing they would all die tragic deaths?

Sam was haunted not Highland House. In some sick twist of fate—the lives, their faces—everything would haunt her until the day she died. Unless she could do something to save them. To save him.

Later in bed, she sobbed as if someone could hear her. “You promised to come back to me, Robert Pennington. I’m holding you to that promise. Do you hear that house?” she yelled in desperation. “I want him back.”