slightly as her gaze swept across the scene for the second time. The low lights shrouded the elegantly appointed entry hall in a dim gloominess. From what she had been able to observe upon her arrival at the estate, the gardens, grounds and buildings all seemed to be well maintained. The estate projected an image of wealth, but it still reminded her of a movie set from some old Gothic film where sinister happenings enveloped the occupants in a cloak of mystery and danger. An involuntary shiver darted up her spine. Did the rest of the house project an equally ominous feel?
“This is an interesting—” Her words stopped, her hand went to her mouth as a startled gasp escaped her throat when her gaze fell on the portrait hanging on the wall. She quickly turned to stare at Donovan, then returned her attention to the painting. Her throat tightened and her mouth went dry as she stared at the portrait. The subject of the painting stared back at her with the same eyes and features as her host, but with clothes from a century earlier. An oppressive stillness filled the entry hall. She tried to shed the sudden apprehension that settled over her, pressing down like a heavy weight.
Donovan followed her line of sight, the expression on her face saying more than words could convey. “That’s my great-grandfather. His name was William.” He pointed to another painting. “That one’s my grandfather, Henry Sedgwick, and this one—” he indicated yet another painting “—is my father, James Sedgwick.”
“Is your father here? I’d like to meet him after all our back-and-forth correspondence.”
“My father died two months ago.” His voice was flat, showing no emotion one way or the other.
“Oh…I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” The unexpected news left her with an odd sensation, a combination of unfulfilled prophecy and destiny that totally baffled her. She tried to shake away the strange and uncomfortable feeling. “I hope my presence here won’t be an inconvenience for you or an intrusion into your period of mourning.”
Donovan mustered a smile and tried to project a gracious manner. “Of course not.”
Taylor looked across the gallery of Sedgwick ancestors that preceded William, then the ones Donovan had identified, before returning her attention to her host. “No painting of you?”
“No…not yet. I suppose it’s something I’ll have to do one of these days—tradition and all that.” He was momentarily lost in thought, in a world of his own that he was unwilling to share with anyone else. Having the traditional portrait done was the last step in replacing his father as lord of the manor, a step he could not quite bring himself to take. The emotional turmoil and the circumstances connected to his father’s death were still too painful for him.
Taylor studied Donovan as he stood there. This was not at all what she had expected. He was a very attractive, sexy and desirable man. She could not deny that he made her pulse race and her breathing quicken. The thought crossed her mind—and not for the first time since boarding the plane for her transatlantic flight—that perhaps all of this had not been such a good idea after all. She should never have misrepresented herself, pretending to be a writer in order to gain access to the Sedgwick family archives for her own personal reasons.
At that precise moment she wished she was safely back in Wichita, Kansas, tending to her secretarial duties at the University rather than having taken a three-month leave of absence. But it was too late for that.
“Well.” Donovan whirled around to face Taylor, feigning an affability he didn’t feel. “I’m sure you must be tired. I imagine you’d like to go to your room, unpack and get settled in.”
She raked her gaze across the entry hall again, the lavish setting in direct opposition to the ominous feeling that shoved at her reality. A tremor of apprehension darted through her body—a tremor that had a dark cloud of danger and foreboding attached to it.
“I heard the doorbell and…hey, who do we have here?” The upbeat, cheerful voice came from the bottom of the staircase. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Alex…” Donovan turned to face his cousin. “This is Taylor MacKenzie, the writer I told you would be staying here for the next two weeks.” He returned his attention to Taylor. “Miss MacKenzie, this is my cousin, Alexander Sedgwick. Alex is here to help me get this year’s festival off to a good start.”
“Please, call me Taylor. Miss MacKenzie sounds so formal.” She offered Donovan a dazzling smile.
“And you may call me Donovan rather than Lord Sedgwick.” His words trailed off, as if his mind were on other things. “The title passed to me only two months ago. I haven’t had it long enough to be comfortable with it yet.” What he did not say was that he felt as if he did not really deserve the title even though it had been in the family as many centuries as the estate had. The title should still belong to his father.
“And you may call me whatever you like, as long as you promise to call me.” Alex’s attention and words were directed to Taylor as he extended a teasing smile followed by a quick but blatantly obvious survey of her physical assets.
She looked from Donovan to Alex, then to the painting of William Sedgwick. An uncomfortable chill swept across her skin. There was no mistaking the distinct family resemblance shared by the three men.
Alex crossed the entry hall to where Taylor stood, his outstretched hand grasping hers. “So, is this the man from the States who’s researching a book about British country festivals?” He flashed a sexy grin as he again looked her up and down. “You certainly don’t look much like a man to me. Of course, Donovan is stuck out here in the country away from London and doesn’t get out much, but even he couldn’t make this sort of a mistake.”
She felt the heat of embarrassment return to her cheeks as she lowered her gaze. This made twice that she had been embarrassed since arriving at the estate and she hadn’t even gotten past the entry hall. These two men, cousins who bore a dramatic similarity in appearance, were quite different in their demeanor. Donovan seemed very serious, a little distracted and what could even be called moody, but undeniably sexy. Alex, on the other hand, unabashedly flirted with her in an open and easy manner.
Donovan rang for Bradley, who made an immediate appearance. “This is Taylor MacKenzie. Please show Miss MacKenzie to her room and have someone bring in the luggage from her car.”
He returned his attention to Taylor. “Bradley will see to your needs. Breakfast is served at eight o’clock. We’ll have a chance to talk then.” Again the heated desire swept through his body as he took one last look at her before turning to go to his suite of rooms in the new wing. “Good night, Taylor.”
“Good night, Donovan.” His abrupt attitude and departure surprised her and left her slightly unsettled. It was almost as if he was desperate to get away from her as fast as he could.
“Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave. Good night, Taylor. I’ll see you in the morning. Unless—” Alex flashed a wry grin as he winked at her “—there’s something I can do for you tonight. I’m sure there’s certain needs that I can handle far better than Bradley….” He allowed his voice to trail off as he openly leered at her.
She shot a quick glance at Bradley, but he showed no reaction to Alex’s words. She forced a polite chuckle, not at all sure how to interpret Alex’s attitude and what he had said. “I can’t think of a thing. I’ve had an incredibly long day and am definitely tired. I’m going to collapse in bed and get a good night’s sleep.” She turned her attention to the somber-looking man standing at the foot of the stairs.
“This
