Haunting Highland House

By Kathryn Hills

She’s looking to escape her man troubles. Instead, she finds the man of her dreams. There’s only one problem – he’s dead. Living in a haunted house and uncovering a gateway in time were not in the job description when Samantha Merrill agreed to be the property manager of Highland House. Old photos of the reclusive master of the manor captivate her, yet she’s terrified when he appears out of nowhere. How can Robert Pennington be making love to her by the parlor fireplace when he died over a century ago? Robert Pennington is a powerful industrialist charged with caring for an ailing father, a meddling mother, and two wayward siblings. Weary of his burdens, he longs for change. Is he ready for a woman from the future? His disciplined world turns upside down when the mysterious Samantha Merrill crashes his sister’s birthday ball. He is wildly attracted to this intriguing beauty, but is it magic or mischief motivating her? When Sam vanishes before his eyes, he knows only one thing for certain. He wants her back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Oct 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781509210879

Book preview

Inc.

Summoning all her strength, she stepped into the light before him. Her heart pounded as if it would explode right out of her chest. Why are you haunting me? she demanded in her bravest ghost hunter voice.

Haunting? He gave a bitter laugh though he still did not look at her. Is that what I am doing? I believed you to be the spirit, sent to torment me. Vacant eyes traveled up her body and then widened. Samantha! He jumped to his feet and snared her wrist. Dear God, where have you been?

Let me go, she cried, twisting in his grasp.

But Samantha, it’s me. He pulled her close.

Help! She yelled, though no one would hear.

I’ll not harm you, I swear. His arms encircled her. How could I hurt the woman I love?

No, she cried fighting with renewed strength. I don’t know you.

You do, Samantha, remember. Remember me, he commanded. He captured her face, forcing her to look at him. His voice dropped to a pleading whisper. It’s just the doorway working its evil. You know me. You must.

Sam went still. She dared to meet his gaze. He was sinfully gorgeous, like some dark fallen angel. Golden firelight flickered across his features. It was madness. She was alone in a far off mansion with a stranger, and yet…

Sanity fought for a toehold. I’m not who you think I am, she rasped barely able to speak.

He caressed her cheek. I know everything about you.

Haunting Highland House

A Time Traveler’s Journey

by

Kathryn Hills

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Haunting Highland House

COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Kathy Hills

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2016

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1086-2

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1087-9

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

For my mom,

whose love of romance inspired me

Acknowledgments

There have been many wonderful people supporting me on this journey. First, I must thank those dearest to me—my husband and daughter—for their unfailing love, encouragement, and support. I could not have done this without you.

I also send thanks to…

My sister, Kris, for introducing me to my favorite haunted house. We started something big together on that cold, December day, and it has changed my life forever.

Lisa, for her friendship, guidance, and support. And all the laughs we share. Any friendship forged over books and brownies must last a lifetime.

Theresa and Sara. You’ve got skills, ladies, and hearts of pure gold. Your friendship and enthusiastic support is a treasure to me.

Jason, for sharing your knowledge and ideas about the magic that surrounds us all. I can’t wait to see where this adventure leads.

Editor Nicole D’Arienzo, for taking a chance on me and loving this book as much as I do.

Finally, all my old friends, new friends, and family members who have read for me, asked me how it’s going, and followed me on this winding path to becoming an author.

Thank you all!

Chapter 1

I’m moving into Dracula’s beach house. Samantha Merrill stared in disbelief at the scene outside her car window. Highland House was much bigger than she had imagined, like a dark, mysterious island looming amidst a sea of manicured lawns. A skittish combination of uncertainty and anticipation coursed through her body as her fingers drummed the steering wheel.

Sam rifled through the envelopes on the passenger seat and found the key…vintage brass with a yellowed paper tag attached by a knotted string. A frown tugged her lips as she traced her name written in swirling cursive ink. Can I live in a place like this? She eyed the house and, for the hundredth time, wondered if she’d made the right decision.

The sun sat low in the autumn sky, and the mansion stood silhouetted against a blood-red line of clouds. It figured. She was expecting stately. Instead, she got creepy.

I’m going to kill Angela for getting me into this.

Grabbing her purse and suitcase from the back seat, she started up the long path from the parking lot to the house. The clicking of her high-heeled boots and the rolling of the suitcase seemed deafening. Her eyes darted from side to side. Not a soul in sight. She didn’t spook easily, but this place had her nerves popping like firecrackers. Daylight was fading fast. Antique-style lampposts winked on overhead, making her jump.

Damn, she muttered when her ankle turned.

Her gaze slid up the dark siding and stonework of the fortress-like outer walls as the path led her alongside the house. The place was a monster. Steep steps had her hauling her old bag up onto a porch. She groaned when the handle broke off in her hand.

Great! Just what I—

The words caught in her throat when she faced the biggest door she’d ever seen. It was black, like the entrance to a deep, dark cave. She stared down at the key, her pale fingers clutching it in a death grip. Before she could change her mind, she stepped forward and stabbed the key into the lock. The heavy door swung open with a long drawn-out creak. Tiny hairs stood up straight on the back of her neck.

Oh boy, I saw this in a movie once, and it didn’t end well.

Wind howled around the house and up onto the porch. A flurry of dry leaves swirled in at her feet as she shoved her things across the threshold. She closed the door against another heavy gust. Darkness settled in. Struggling to find lights, her hand connected with a panel alongside the door. She pushed buttons and turned knobs until a chandelier in the foyer blazed on. Brilliant crystals gleamed happily above as if everything in the world was perfect. Dust particles hung in the still air.

Elegant furnishings drew her gaze, a long upholstered bench, a plush chair, an enormous grandfather clock. The clock suddenly struck causing her to fly out of her skin. Other clocks—somewhere off in the distance—chimed out in unison.

Oh, please, it’s just an old house. She laughed at her own stupidity, yet her voice sounded oddly high-pitched. There was nothing to be afraid of, even if it was always the girl who got it first in the movies.

Rummaging through her purse, she found a bottle of antacids and chewed up several without counting them. Right on cue, the whistling gale came again. The ancient timbers groaned in resistance. Sam listened to the woeful sound, felt it resonate deep within, and acknowledged there was no going back now.

An open door caught her eye. The sign above read Office. She walked in and struggled with the lights again. A surprised giggle bubbled up as the space was illuminated. Sam pressed her fingertips to her mouth to suppress the happy sound. The place was gorgeous, antique furniture and tall windows framed by elegant drapes. And a fireplace!

Her gaze jumped from corner to corner and up to the high ceiling. Another chandelier hung in the center of smooth white plaster. Good-bye sterile cubicle, she mumbled, sliding a finger along the cool edge of a rosewood desk.

She was the new property manager of Highland House, the person in charge of all programs and events at the historic estate. A plum position for someone with her marketing and event management skills. At least according to Angela, her former boss turned new best friend.

A twinge of homesickness gripped Sam, and she let a long sigh slip out. She would miss her old job immensely. It had been her only sanctuary when her world broke apart. But the pressure had proven too much, and she’d gone from being a rising star in a global corporation to the manager of a Cape Cod relic.

Sam raised her chin a notch. She could do this. She had to. Angela had given her an ultimatum. Pull yourself together. Get the job done. When you’re back on your game, we’ll talk about your future.

Her mood lightened. Well, I guess it’s time to wake this old place up.

****

Sam toweled her hair dry and changed into pajamas and a robe, feeling pleasantly boneless after a long hot shower in a bathroom that looked like it belonged in a luxury hotel. She savored the light floral scent of potpourri as she meandered around her new place, peeking into closets and opening drawers. It had been a delightful surprise to discover where she would be living. More contemporary than the rest of the house, the huge apartment took up almost the entire third floor. The only thing missing was a kitchen, but she had free use of the catering kitchen downstairs.

Pulling a lone paperback from a shelf, she settled into an over-stuffed chair and tucked her bare feet beneath her. She scanned the front cover and scoffed, Just what I need, a romance. The image of a couple locked in a steamy embrace made her frown. Once, she’d had stacks of books in her room, rereading her favorite romances over and over. But everything changed when she met Ross. He said her books were stupid. You don’t need fantasy men when you’ve got the real thing.

Sam considered the cover again. Maybe a happily-ever-after kind of hero is just what I need. Nestling deeper into the chair, she began to read. Minutes passed, and she found herself stuck on the first page. Annoyance gnawed at her nerves. Her gaze shot to the mantel, fixating on the rhythmic ticking of the clock. She could almost feel it synchronizing with her thudding heart.

How am I supposed to relax when this place is making me nuts?

Everyone said she needed peace and quiet, but right now, all she wanted was the hum of the city. Here there were no sirens, no noisy neighbors, no constant drone of traffic to distract her. Here she would think.

Giving up, Sam cast the book aside. She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to recall the sights and sounds of the tiny apartment she’d fled to after the breakup—music and TV, laughter and slamming doors…

Her cell buzzed, startling her. She snatched it from her purse on the coffee table. Angela posting to her wall, Miss you, along with a picture of the two of them at her going away party. Sam chewed her bottom lip. They were in stark contrast. Angela, the bleached blonde goddess alongside her, pretty but nothing special with shoulder-length brown hair and a sad smile. At twenty-five, Samantha Merrill felt washed up.

She tossed the offending phone aside and riffled through her purse until she found her lucky charm. Her wishing stone. She’d had the thing forever. A smooth gray rock about an inch in diameter. It fit perfectly in her hand. She ran a fingertip over the symbol carved on one side—two triangles of equal size touching point to point with a line beneath one. Like an hourglass sitting on a flat surface. Squeezing the stone tight, she held it to her heart. Please let this work out for me. Let this place be exactly what I need. She waited as if something magical would happen. Nothing ever did. With a huff, she returned the stone to her purse knowing it was the best she could do.

Padding over to one of the odd-sized windows filling the apartment, she peered out into the night. The foreign landscape still surprised her. There was only grass, trees, and the lot where her little blue sedan sat parked under the yellow glow of the lampposts. The all-too-familiar sting of tears made her face grow hot. She pressed a cheek to the glass, letting the soothing cold seep into her skin. Face it, she told herself. It will take time.

Sam scooped up the book again and flopped into the chair, determined until her stomach growled. So preoccupied with getting to the house, she’d forgotten to eat. Her lips slanted with a silly grin. Time to raid the fridge. Grabbing her phone, she slid it into her pocket and stepped out into the hallway. She hummed as she descended the stairs to the second floor.

What are you doing in this house? A booming male voice came from behind her.

Panic jolted Sam like a stun gun. She whirled around to see a man advancing from the shadows. Bolting, she tripped on her bare feet as she tried to scramble away. Her screams shattered the air.

Who are you? the man’s voice thundered.

A strong grip seized her arm. She spun to face him. Adrenaline rocketed through her veins. Yanking free she yelled, Stop. To her amazement, the man hesitated.

Sam gasped for breath. Holding her hands out in front of her like a shield, she backed away. At the edge of the landing, her balance shifted and she tipped. The man grabbed for her, but she slipped from his grasp, tumbling down the remaining stairs.

Pain ricocheted through her body and then there was darkness.

****

Wake up! Sam shot upright, her head pounding from the effort. She moaned and lay down again, squeezing her eyes shut against a wave of nausea. A distant voice shushed her as a gentle hand cupped her cheek. She turned her face to the warmth, longing for comfort. Her eyes fluttered open. Beautiful gray eyes the color of a winter storm gazed back.

She struggled to remember, wondering how she’d come to lay cradled in the lap of a stranger. He wore a worried frown, dark hair falling across his handsome face as he studied her. Their eyes met and lingered. His lips curved with a smile. A stunning smile. He stroked her face, and she tingled where his fingertips brushed her forehead.

Well, now… He released a long breath. You took quite a tumble, young miss.

His voice was pleasant, smooth and steady, with a hint of an accent she couldn’t place. The pad of his thumb grazed her cheek in a tender slide causing her to tremble.

Do I know you? he asked softly.

Like warm honey, everything about this man soothed her, and she found herself smiling back at him despite her confusion.

Such a beauty, he continued, smoothing her hair. I would never forgive myself had you been harmed in that fall.

Memories flooded in, and Sam drew a sharp breath. The man! He scared me into falling down the stairs! She shoved at him, fighting to get to her feet until big black spots danced before her eyes.

Lie down, he insisted.

She swayed on unsteady legs. The world tilted, and she stumbled, yet he was there to catch her.

Be still or I shall be forced to carry you.

She froze. Her hands gripped him just below his upturned sleeves. They looked tiny and white against him. Muscles flexed beneath her fingers, warmth against her ice-cold skin. Male strength so close it was overwhelming. The last time she was this close to a man she’d stopped a fist with her face.

You must sit.

I don’t want to sit. She straightened in an attempt to stand against his formidable size. I want to know what the hell you’re doing here.

The man’s stare hardened. "What am I doing here? He gave a bitter laugh. I’ve sent everyone away. No exceptions. You must leave."

Excuse me? I have to leave? She took in his tight pants and puffy white shirt, the high black boots that completed his pirate-like outfit. You could have killed me with that stunt…chasing me down dressed like some reject from a Halloween party. Who put you up to this, Angela? If you two think this is funny—

I do not jest. I am master of this house. And you had best heed my warning.

Master? The odd word swirled around her jumbled brain.

His gaze lowered. The robe she wore had fallen open to reveal a skin-tight tank top and pajama pants. Cold air in the house made her nipples stand out taut under the skimpy top, and the pants rode low showing a generous portion of bare skin. She yanked the robe closed.

Foolish girl, you’ll soon find yourself in over your head if you do not leave. You are dismissed. He turned and marched away, the broad expanse of his back filling her field of vision.

Sam raised a pointed finger, about to fire back. Instead, she stood there stunned. Dismissed? Footsteps faded away as he rounded a corner.

Wait, what? I just got here, she yelled, chasing him down a long, dark hallway until the door at the end slammed shut in her face. Bursting through, she slid to a halt. He was gone. Dim light and chilly air made the place feel like a mausoleum. Her skin crawled as if a thousand sticky cobwebs wrapped around her all at once. She rubbed her arms against the unnerving sensation.

Snapping on the lights, Sam crept into the large room, searching behind stacked chairs and tables. I was only seconds behind him. How could he escape? Unless there is another way out! She pressed on walls and jiggled light fixtures, imagining some hidden panel might slide open to reveal a secret passageway. When none did, she heaved an exasperated sigh. Checking all the exit doors and windows, she finally turned off the lights and closed the doors.

I was dreaming, she rationalized hobbling down the long hallway. The last thing I remember is being upstairs reading. Perhaps I fell asleep. Rubbing a throbbing wrist, she admitted it didn’t feel like a dream. And how did I get down here? A grim alternative popped into her head. Maybe I fell down the stairs and hit my head. A concussion? Yet he was there before she fell, a fact, which made her queasy.

No, that can’t be right.

The terrifying feeling of her life spinning out of control was back. Angela’s warning screamed like a siren in her head. You’re going to snap if you don’t take a break.

Great, now I’m crazy. I’m stuck in a spooky old mansion on over three hundred acres, and I’m seeing things. Not just any old things, I’m dreaming up imaginary men who look like pirates out of romance novels. And I’m talking to myself!

Tears welled up in her eyes. She had been reading that stupid book right before he appeared. Oh you really do need rest, girl, and some serious therapy.

She screeched when the phone buzzed in her pocket. Seeing the name, she rushed to answer. Angela? Oh thank God…

I know, right? Angela’s loud voice erupted from the phone. Isn’t it great?

What? Sam cried in disbelief.

Would I steer you wrong, kiddo? Just wait until you meet the guy. He’s gorgeous.

****

Highland House, January 1884

Robert Pennington paused in his work, listening to the methodical ticking of a clock. His house was quiet. With a relieved sigh, he looked from the correspondences and ledgers cluttering his desk to the window. Snow swirled in the stiff wind, making soft pinging sounds against the glass. His mind wandered to his mother and siblings, and he smiled. They shall soon be basking in the warm southern sunshine.

The door burst open startling him. He jumped to his feet when his butler stumbled in clutching a newspaper to his chest. Godfrey collapsed against the desk, sending papers sliding to the floor as Robert attempted to catch him.

What the devil is wrong, old man? Are you ill?

Godfrey slumped into a chair with Robert’s help. Mr. Pennington…Robert… They’re all gone. Tears streamed down his ruddy cheeks.

Who’s gone? What is the meaning of this?

Godfrey pushed the newspaper at Robert. The headlines blazed across the page. "Passenger Ship Columbia Sinks off Martha’s Vineyard. All Souls Lost."

Robert trembled, his knees threatening to give way. Thoughts flew in every direction, spiraling out of control. His family. All of them. Dead.

It’s a lie, he cried, gripping Godfrey by the shoulders and giving him a violent shake.

The vicar brought me the news himself. He was afraid we would hear of it from someone else. It’s all over the town.

Robert sank to the floor. I did this, he uttered in horror. I sent them to their deaths.

Godfrey was sobbing when he clutched him in a fierce embrace. It is not your fault. Oh, my poor dear boy, what are we to do?

Robert barely heard him over the splitting, deafening buzz burning a hole straight through his brain.

Chapter 2

The alarm clock buzzed to life, and Sam sat straight up in bed, her body covered in cold sweat. She shut off the noise and collapsed, forcing herself to relax in