Forever Yours

By Susan Hastings

Thirty-year-old heiress Heather McKeeshan has had a dream companion since she was six years oldMichael, her prince in the night who has grown up with her and always been there for her when she needed strength. She has never found love in her waking life, and her prince is becoming more and more real to her, his gentle touch stirring tremendous passion within her in her dreams. But she has no idea what awaits her in reality.

Following the death of her father, Heather becomes the sole owner and president of the familys successful fashion company, McKee Fashions. She is terrified but determined to live up to her fathers legacy. But when she is suddenly summoned to Ireland and learns of a family estate that she never knew existed, she discovers a castle that now belongs to her, as well as a legacy of kidnapping and betrayal. Whats more, she soon finds that her prince is not a dream, but a reality beyond imagination. Thirty years of secrets will bring her a mysterious trunk full of royal gowns and a heart full of questions. Can she find the answers she so desperately needs?

In this suspenseful romance novel, an heiress discovers her familys long-hidden secrets and learns that her lifelong dream love is more than just a dream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781491784815

Susan Hastings

Susan Hastings has two children, a daughter-in-law, and four grandchildren. A special man, Richard Fentress, gave her the joy of her first computer with the words, “A writer must write.” And so she does. She currently lives in Virginia.

Book preview

Prologue

L ooking out at the vast expanse of sea, James’ concern for his wife Mary grew. Now in her sixth month of pregnancy she was consumed with illness once again, yet she never complained. Tomorrow, he promised her, tomorrow we will land in America. They left the friendly lilt of their homeland to the strange language of America, and James was worried how they would even communicate. Did anyone in America speak Gaelic? A new land and a new language, he would have to be strong for his Mary.

At last, they sighted land. Thought the ship was being tossed, everyone drew to the side of the ship to see the wonder that was America. As a gentle breeze blew the stormy grey skies back out to sea, the bright sunshine welcomed them to a new life. Holding Mary close to his side, James felt a tear dampen his cheek. So, this was it. This was where they would raise their baby, their Irish Princess.

Like cattle being ushered off the ship, Mary and James crowded forward to feel the first touch of land. Pushing and shoving, they laughed, We made it! Pulling Mary to a quiet little park, not far from the dock, James took Mary’s tear stained face in his hands. Welcome to America, brave lass, breathe now the breath of safety and freedom. A shy kiss in a new land, they could only stare at each other in wonder. Not so graciously, James dropped to his knees, took Mary’s very rounded belly in his hands and gently kissed the mound that held their future.

Three months later, wrapped in her mother’s tartan plaid shawl, a tiny Heather Colleen McKeeshan was laid in her cradle of pink. Mary and James knew the worries and fears were worth everything when they looked into the eyes of their daughter.

As Heather grew, the old language of Ireland was lost and unless the secrets her parents shared were spoken, Gaelic was heard less and less. Though she heard the stories, sang the songs and danced the dances, all other thoughts of her parents past were forgotten.

One day, Heather took ill with a fever and Mary and James feared all their struggles would be for naught if they lost their precious daughter. For three days, Heather fought a raging fever, one minute burning up, and the next shivering with chills. In the midst of her fever, she dreamt.

In her dream she ran through the woods with a little boy. They laughed as he fought off the dragons to rescue his princess; a broken tree branch became his mighty sword. She would curtsey to him as they played at being King and Queen, dragging old blankets around their shoulders as though they were royal robes. And when he was with her, Heather didn’t feel alone any more. He was the friend she had always wanted, and like true friends they traded their deepest secrets. Typical of only children, they shared the same secret: They wanted brothers and sisters. A sister to play dolls with, a brother to wrestle with. They would never have to fear being alone again. But for each of them, that secret wish would never be answered; and so, they turned to each other as family.

Their playground was a castle where the mica sparkled in the sun like a crown studded with gems of many colors. She loved the wild heather she was named for, that grew by the little pond behind the house. That same pond where they had pushed and shoved at each other until they had both fallen in. Soaking wet, they couldn’t have been any happier. Laughter rang throughout the castle and in those special moments, Heather found a contentment. They played hide and seek, for there were many rooms that had a perfect hide-e-hole, just big enough to hold a not-so-quiet child. Like charging elephants they chased each other up the winding staircase, just so they could riotously slide back down the banister. When it was a more quiet time, they both settled into that little room tucked away under the stairs. She liked that memory the best; for it was there that the little boy and the little girl shared their first kiss. Shyly he took her hand in his, looked deep into her eyes and said, You will always be my Queen.

When her fever finally broke, James came into Heather’s room to find her giggling in a fit of laughter. Thinking her still feverish, he rushed to her side. Oh Papa, we had such a grand time in the castle! Heather laughed. I hid in the best spot and Michael never found me! Drawing her to his side, James wondered who Michael was.

As Heather grew her dreams continued. Not so alone now, she looked forward to the times they played together. Hand in hand with the boy, they discovered frogs on the pond, chased huge cows lumbering across the fields, and terrorized every unsuspecting duck that was foolish enough to cross their paths. When they were hungry, it was the warmth of the kitchen, with the scent of cookies baking that drew them. And there they shared the love of a brown haired woman. A woman whose laughter filled the room and who never thought they were foolish in their play. When she laughed, her eyes twinkled like little fairies had sprinkled sunshine in them.

But above all the games, she would remember that gentle touching of lips from her first love. When she woke in the morning, she didn’t have to look around; she knew he was gone. She tried to tell her parents about the little boy, but they laughed it off as a vivid imagination. Heather never talked of him any more for fear they would think she was foolish, but it made her sad that they didn’t believe her. For imagination or not, to a small lonely child of six, he was very real.

For many years he would come and they would play. Under the stairs they hid their treasures. It was their secret place. As they grew older, Heather’s talents surfaced and she would design robes for her King. He would fight the evil warlords and she would cheer him on. He was her hero and in her small heart, love began to grow.

When the days became months and the months flew into years, the time between his visits grew longer and longer. No longer a child, but a not yet a woman, Heather sighed. I guess it’s time to put childish dreams and games away. But alone in her room she cried, for she missed her friend very much. Like the cut flowers wilting in the vase on her dresser, their love had had its moment, bloomed, and now lay in the back of her mind lifeless and fading. And with the bloom gone, his memory faded until at last, there was no memory of him at all.

Chapter 1

S he woke listening to the rain, like soft voices whispering secrets. Had he come to her again, slipping softly into her dreams, or were her dreams becoming so vivid they seemed real? Sometimes when she woke and looked around, she knew he’d been there, could still smell his earthy scent. Her body craved sleep, for it was only in that dreamy state he came to her. Heather knew that life went on and she couldn’t just dream her life away, but the thought of living in her dream was so tempting. Not possible, she laughed, but so tempting. What he brought to her was so real.

Heather lay quietly embracing the afterglow of their love making. Not really making love, she hadn’t known that sensation yet. What he’d left her with was something her mind couldn’t give a name to. Tenderness, maybe. Yet she always welcomed the dream and him. Was she slowly losing her hold on reality? It was mornings like this, when she woke feeling so alive, that she just didn’t care. She would take what was offered, love when he loved, and feel, oh yes, she would feel. He definitely could make her feel, her gentle Prince of the Night. She wondered, was this desire and maybe … passion building? Up until now, he’d brought only comfort, gently awakening sensations she had only heard of and wondered about.

He’d always been there when she needed his strength, even as a teenager. For every crisis she had, and there’d been plenty, he’d been there for her. When the captain of the football team turned his charms and attention to another after promising she was his one and only, it was her Prince that held her gently as she cried. When news came about her mother’s accident, she’d found comfort in the knowledge that he would be there for her, and he was. His strength had somehow made the loss bearable. Most things are when you don’t have to face them alone.

In the quiet of her room, Heather began to question if she was even normal. She couldn’t ever remember wanting a boy’s attention. Sure she enjoyed being around them, but none had ever given her that feeling her friends had laughed about. Why was that, she wondered? Abigail and Shannon, her college roommates, had enjoyed razing her about needing a boyfriend. You can’t stay holed up in your room for the entire four years, Heather. Get out and meet someone. Her newfound friends had decided that it was their goal in life to hook Heather up with some good looking guy. Books are great for during the day, but there is a night life to college too. They both giggled at the notion. Heather laughed it off, but as her friends paraded one eligible man after another in front of her, their goal was never achieved.

When Abby married Kevin Henderson, Heather was the one who caught the bridal bouquet and wondered if her day would ever come. I’ll never be a bride if I don’t give ‘Mr. Right’ a chance to find me. Heather scolded herself. But when the wedding was over, so were the thoughts of a man in her life. The adoration of her father had always been enough. And she had her Prince. A man who was becoming more and more real in her mind.

It was only now as a grown woman that those feelings had emerged. And only when her mind wandered to him.

She had begun to see him differently now. No longer was she content with just his holding. She wanted that something more. She may not have known exactly what that something was, but she knew there was definitely something more to expect. With anticipation came frustration and her wants were no longer those of a child. Somehow through the passing of time, she’d slid into womanhood and with that change came a woman’s desire. But with her dreams seeming so true, so believable, she couldn’t set her mind straight as to what was fantasy and what was real. It was in her dreams that she saw him … her Prince, her friend, her almost lover, and her source of comfort. How could she not question her own sanity? Could this be the haunting reason she never reached out to a man? Did her Prince leave no room for a real man and romance?

Eyeing her cat, Heather reached out to stroke her soft fur. Misty, how can I be dreaming when it seems like he is here? she softly crooned to her cat. Not having any answers herself, Misty simply glared at Heather and began her morning ritual of winding herself over Heather’s shoulders, reminding her that she had not yet been fed. Jumping down from the bed, Misty meowed in anger at being forgotten, hissing get up! And to that Heather just laughed. All right, your majesty, I’m up, I’m up!

As she threw off her covers, Heather pulled herself from the last of the fantasy that had surrounded her world for so many years. You’re really losing it, old girl But her mind couldn’t quite shake off those questions or the new feelings.

After feeding Misty, Heather’s thoughts floated back to the night. Was there more to her dreams than just dreaming? As she stood in the shower, beads of water slid down her body, not cooling her thoughts, but recharging the memories of him. She could still feel his hands on her. Hands that tempted and teased. Hands that awakened a need that excited yet frightened her. Lately he was all she could think of. He was becoming all consuming, and he filled her with a want, a crawling need, that so desperately pulled at her. Why was he so real to her, so familiar? He was becoming an obsession.

As she wrapped her body in a fluffy towel, Heather could not yet push those thoughts away. She imagined his hands caressing her. Each stroke of the towel brought her a pleasure she didn’t quite understand, but wanted. Closing her eyes, Heather felt her body warm, her breasts began to tingle, and her nipples hardened firm! Not gentle warmth, but a furious thunder of explosive heat that gave way to the wail of a spring storm as it sobbed its story to the wind. She tossed her towel aside, and grinned at herself in the foggy mirror. Did my shower steam that up or did my thoughts of him do that? she laughed shaking her head.

Heather brushed back her wildly untamed red hair and thought of her mother and the endless hours of brushing and laughing as her mother had tried to arrange some semblance of style to her curls. Tis alive with a mind of its own, Mama would laugh. Her bright lilt and her singing echoed through Heather’s mind. Oh Mama, why did you have to leave me? Why aren’t you here to talk to? There is so much I need to share with you. So many questions I need to ask. Sadness befell Heather and she quietly sighed. What would mama say to Heathers’ dreams? Would she think her daughter had lost it? It was still hard for Heather to realize six years had passed since her father had come to tell her that her mother was dead.

Heather sat quietly, remembering the day of her father’s visit to college. She was twenty-three, had just finished her classes and was packing to come home. She knew there was something very wrong, and one look at her father’s ashen face confirmed it. Heather remembered little of the drive home or the funeral. That hollow empty feeling stayed with her for weeks to come. Heather vaguely remembered the priest asking what she was going to do now. How was she supposed to know? Her mother was dead! She couldn’t think past the moment, much less of tomorrow! Father O’Malley told her to remember the fun times and not dwell on the sadness.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Heather tried to think of her mother’s face. Her cheeks always seemed to have a splash of sunshine on them. Her eyes bright with just a hint of mischief. Remembering her voice brought a sigh to Heather as a tear rolled down her face. If I could hear that lovely lilt in your voice, Mama, just one more time.

Heather was Mary and James McKeeshan’s only child, a gift from the little people, her father would say. Irish on both sides of her family, they often talked of traveling to Ireland. To the lavender hillsides and the valleys lush and green the likes one would never believe. They made it all come alive with the songs, the jigs, which Heather picked up at the ripe old age of four and the whispered talks of living like a king. Like most Irish, Heather thought her father was blessed with a heart full of blarney.

James’ dream was not in Ireland, but in America, designing and making pretty dresses for beautiful ladies. And so he did. The design label read McKee, but to the High Fashion Industry it said success. He had a flair for the delicate, the romantic, and as Mama often said, the lustful fantasy of every woman!

Designs, fabric, and fashions were bantered at the kitchen table like other families talked sports. From an early age, Heather had enjoyed having input into her father’s designs for the next season’s fashion lines. A natural, he would preen! She’s fey, she has the sight! Heather always thought she had a good eye for things, but fey? That was a word from the old country: Able to see, whatever that meant. Her parents often spoke words she didn’t understand, but never questioned. It was the language of Ireland that her parents spoke when she asked too many questions. Being a bright child, she soon figured there were secrets that her parents had left in Ireland. But also like all children, when secrets are hidden away, a child becomes more curious.

Once when Heather was in high school, the class did a study on heritage. She felt awkward telling her teacher that she had no family … anywhere. It took a call to her teacher from her mother to keep Heather from a failing mark for the assignment. She really did have no family other than her parents. How was this possible that they were so totally alone? Where was the rest of her family? The other kids at school often talked about going to grandmas for the holidays, and being young, Heather didn’t understand why she had no family. There were no aunts, uncles, or cousins to go with the missing grandparents. When she pressed her mother, the sadness that crept across her face told her to leave it alone. Yet there was always a hidden why that popped up now and then. Like the language of the old country, Heather figured there were secrets buried in the old country. Someday, she thought, someday she would know the answers.

At the time, losing her mother in a senseless car accident had almost broken her. But being the ever aware and caring father he was, James McKeeshan did the only thing he knew to do. He put his daughter to work. He gave her a position of responsibility with McKee Fashions that demanded her time and her skill as a designer. He gave her direction, a goal and watched over her with loving eyes. She was everything to him.

That first summer home was a blur. Sitting with her father one morning, she asked him what she should do next. Fall term was coming up and she’d thought of going back to school for her degree in business management. With her mother gone, she knew that someday the responsibilities of McKee Fashions would fall to her. Her first years at college had been nothing more than stepping stones to the time when she could design, create, and see her own thoughts come to life. Now there was more to be thinking of. It wasn’t just designing any more. James pondered a moment, then answered Heather. I think you should go back to school. There is much for you to learn yet. Someday, girl, this will all be yours. I can give you my knowledge, but the basics you’d be best to learn from books. He didn’t allow her to wallow in self-pity at the loss of her mother, but kept her mind challenged and her heart remembering the love they had shared.

When times were the toughest, he would laugh and threaten to bring out her mother’s rose colored glasses. This had