Three Goddess Series

Chapter 8

March 28, 1817

Cambridgeshire, England

Logan sighed and peered through the floor-to-ceiling windows set into the garden side of his study. Restless under layers of stiff clothing, his body begged for the exercise and adrenaline only a long and vigorous ride could provide.

After seven hours of pouring over ledgers, and reports, and letters of business and correspondence, the time for action had arrived.

He rose from the velvet wingback chair behind his desk, and strode to the door. His long fingers, centimeters from the brass lever, halted midway when a loud and exuberant knock sounded against the door.

So close.

"Come." His deep voice easily penetrated the thick oak. Without further ado, Connors bustled in.

"What is it?" Logan turned away to make his way back to the desk.

"Mr. Hughes is here."

Logan smiled. "Why does that fox even bother allowing you to announce his arrival? He might as well live here." As he spoke, his friend made his way into the room, a smile emblazoned on his familiar face.

"I delight in being announced." Harold Hughes, known to his bosom fellows as Harry, plunked down in the chair opposite Logan, and continued to smile.

He turned, dismissing Connors with a nod. "Harry, not that I don't enjoy your company, but why have you come to visit me at this hour?" He wanted to get on with his ride.

"Well, I am more than curious about whether you've been back to the encampment." This question brought Logan's brows together in a stormy line.

A little over four months ago, the land steward, Fletcher Rhodes, discovered the head count of his flocks in the southern pasture was low. He didn't think anything of it because a few sheep here or there wandering off or carried away by predators was normal. After two weeks of continually dwindling numbers, Fletcher shared his suspicions of theft. Rumors about a Romany camp in the area sent them scrambling to find more information.

When questioning the Rom squatters didn't work, he set traps for the thief, but despite his well-laid plans, the thief made away with twelve more sheep.

Sure, Caspire Manor and its estates had more than enough wealth and other assets to cover the loss, but he feared if the bandit continued to get away without consequence, he would turn to more lucrative pursuits, like robbing the house blind while they slept.

The late night capers in the southern pasture were just another reason he wanted to ride. Maybe, just maybe, he could catch the filthy rogue. The thought brought a dark smile to his lips.

He growled and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Good news, eh?"

"Absolutely not. It seems no matter what we do, the sheep continue to disappear." He let his head fell to the side, and the weight of the universe settled on his shoulders.

Harry's smile diminished as he captured his chin in his hands, adopting an expression of concern. "Still having problems sleeping?"

Logan straightened in his chair, and his fingers flicked a button on his vest. "Yes."

Not problems, per se. He would get to sleep without issue; the dreaming brought problems. When he closed his eyes, entrancing visions of a jade gaze teased his mind, and he would pray to never wake again. The morning always came, and he'd find his covers in disarray, his body covered in a sheen of thick sweat, and his c**k as hard as Irish granite.

His frustration simmered, and he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. "Is your question the only reason for your visit?"

"Yes," Harry answered with a grin. "Besides, I had to have some excuse to call. My mother is driving me crazy, and my sister is following a close second. They never cease in their idle prattle about soirees and bachelors and marriage." Casting a miserable glance, Harry strode to his side, and leaned a hip against the edge of the desk. "So, can I take refuge beneath the rafters of this blessed place?"

Laughing, Logan slapped his friend on the back. "You know you are welcome here any time."

Harry smiled, and stood, bowing elegantly. "You sir, are most gracious to extend sanctuary to a much abused man."

His theatrics brought a smile to Logan's face, and the dark anxiousness in his heart lessened, if only for a second.

"Well, now that I have been granted a well-earned reprieve from my delightful ninnies, I will leave you to your ledgers and liquor, and make my way to the larder. Perhaps Chef has left a few of his lemon tarts lying about." Harry raised his hand in salute and left.

When his friend had gone, Logan rushed to the bell pull to summon a footman, calling for his horse to be saddled.

He hurried to the master suite where with the help of his valet, he removed his white evening shirt, and donned a black button-down. Once dressed, he made his way through the back door, and into the stables where his horse stood ready.

The wide lane leading from the stable yard and into the pastures beyond the immediate estate was well trodden and written into his memory.

As he came upon the last post before the pasture, he readied for his flight into the gloom. Drawing the crisp night air into his lungs, he kicked Gehenna into action, letting out a whoop of elation as the large black horse streaked into the gathering night.

***

Mind splitting howling and whooshing noises battered Haven as she tried to keep from screaming. She held her hands to her ears and blinked, hoping the darkness swirling around her was the result of consuming bad carnival food.

The blackness encasing her moved like a whirlpool in great oceans of night. Turning her head from one side to the other, she tried to distinguish up, down, backward, or forward.

Damn it!

An unknown force propelled through the void.

Pulling her legs into her chest, she wrapped her arms around her knees, and let her gym bag hang loose from her wrist. Her eardrums pounded like someone prodded them with a ten-foot chopstick.

Floating through the abyss, she squeezed her eyes shut against the flood of tears, and she shuddered as slimy hands of fear clutched at her heart. Terror welled, oozing, pushing against her lungs, and she gasped for air. Fighting against the urge to panic, she threw her head back and breathed deep...in, out, in, out.

Suddenly, the whooshing ceased, and the swirling blackness lightened to a pearlesque purple-still, deep, and terrifying.

The force propelling her through the void released her, and with a yelp of surprise, she plummeted, landing hard.

With the wind knocked out of her, finding the strength to rise to her feet was difficult. Under her hands, the ground was moist and grassy.

After a few moments, she could breathe, but nausea slapped her when she inhaled the strong odor of manure. Holding her hand to her nose and mouth, she stumbled, but gained her feet. Her gaze met a large open area under a sky lit with stars. Small, wooly figures dotted the vista. Despite the stench, the air was crisp and cool.

How in the hell did I get from a parking lot to a pasture?

She dropped her hand from her face so she could grab her gym bag. "I hope to God this is just some dream."

Deep down, she knew it wasn't.

This isn't real. This can't be real. I didn't just fly through a black hole and land face down in sheep s**t! Oh, God. Please let this all be a dream.

She felt like a ripe tomato someone threw against the side of a brick building. Her knees and hands were sore from the landing, and her head ached from the earsplitting noise.

A pounding sound pierced the silence, quickly approaching.

She glanced over her shoulder and gasped when she spied a large black form advancing from over the crest of a hill. It was coming straight at her. Fast.

Panicking, she turned toward a line of trees, and sprinted for cover.

She didn't dare look as she quickened her steps, her heart beating out of her chest. The pounding intensified, and the ground vibrated with the speed and force of her pursuer.

Once she reached the tree line, she peered back and nearly staggered in shock. The great black beast was on top of her.

"Halt," a man roared.

She blinked. The great beast was a large man riding a large black horse.

Turning, she ran for deeper cover.

Behind her, the dark man grumbled a curse. From nowhere, something heavy and solid crashed against her back. At the mercy of inertia and velocity, she flew forward, and hit her forehead against a rock.

Hard.

Blackness engulfed her. Only two words penetrated the encroaching fog. "Bloody hell."