Into My Dreams

INTO MY DREAMS

By: Sandra McGregor

Copyright 2011 Sandra McGregor

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for your support.

Prologue

Elizabeth Powell was no spring chicken, but she was healthy and she was in love. In fact, she was married to Charles Powell and she was leaving the home they had shared for decades to join him -- the man who held her heart, so they could live out the rest of their time together in his ancestral home.

No ticket was necessary and no suitcase was allowed. This was an unusual trip -- one that would normally have caused pain and loss -- if her daughter were still alive, or if she had been given a chance to know Melody, her precious granddaughter. It was better this way. No one would mourn -- no one would miss her. No one would care.

The story that would take her to Charles was written, ready to be read. She was now ready. She sucked in a huge breath and held it for a few moments as she glanced one last time around her beloved bedroom and the octagon sitting room that overlooked the pastures and the forests. Yes, she was ready.

Arthritic fingers clutched the pages as she turned and eased into the upholstered chair, leaning back as she forced herself to relax.

It was time.

She adjusted the glasses on her nose and as a gentle smile turned up the corners of her lips, she began to read the notes that were clinched in her suddenly steady fingers.

Charles was waiting.

Chapter 1

Could a day start out more normal and end up more extraordinary? It would be difficult to imagine.

Melody Dawson sat in the ten-year-old Chevy Malibu with the engine idling and the air conditioner blowing cool air in her face, sending wisps of blond hair across her lips. The obstacle that blocked her progress didn’t really pose a huge problem since she had been given the key to the castle, a key that would unlock the unknown and change the course of her future.

With the click of a button, the gates began to move, swinging slowly inward to allow her to drive between two tall, square, brick columns into the private inner sanctum of her recently deceased grandmother.

A grandmother I didn’t even know I had, she muttered aloud as her car rolled past the tall gates.

A curved P was fashioned from wrought iron and mounted on each gate, proclaiming to the world with those two, scrolled letters that the home behind the gate belonged to the Powell family and they were obviously proud of it.

The car climbed the hill along a driveway lined with huge Eucalyptus trees, the pungent odor permeating the car as the air conditioner sucked in the outside air -- an odor that reminded her of a childhood memory that she couldn’t bring into focus.

Melody unhooked the seatbelt with one hand while the other wrapped around the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Beyond the trees that lined the driveway was a manicured lawn stretching over the knoll and down the side of the hill until it gave way to a thick forest that hid the home from the road below.

This is fantastic. No wonder she wanted to live out here. Melody’s voice was soft, her whispered words proclaiming her awe at the property she was seeing for the first time. The estate grounds seemed to demand reverence and respect, silence and admiration. Well, she certainly admired the beauty around her.

Unable to contain her excitement, her face relaxed, allowing a smile to overtake it and erase the frown. It was like a dream -- one she never wanted to wake from. Everywhere she looked, with each curve in the road, the property displayed yet another marvel.

For a moment, her foot eased off the gas pedal. What had she ever done to deserve this? Nothing. She could feel the stress of the day easing from her shoulders as the car slowed to a stop. Her gaze swept across the manicured lawn toward a grove of trees standing guard behind a border of flowering bushes that replaced the need for a fence.

All this needs is horses grazing on the lawn, she murmured, the smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she thought of what she had always wanted but had never been able to afford. She faced forward just in time to watch a squirrel dart from a tree to scamper across the road. The serenity was pulling at her heart, stroking and calming the erratic beat to bring peace.

The property seemed to beckon to her, pulling her forward. Her smile broadened. It felt like coming home after a long, tiring trip.

She put the car in gear and continued up the sloping driveway, leaning forward when the car passed through a second gate that stood open to reveal a scene that stole her breath.

The driveway leveled off and she allowed the car to slow as the house came into view. In front of her, rising majestically toward the clouds, was a three-story gothic wonder. A turret on each end of the house rose up toward the sky to be topped with a wood-shingled, cone roof and a weathervane that reminded her of a candle on top of a cake.

Right out of a medieval story, she said, allowing a tinkling laugh to slip out. Bring on the dragon! She enjoyed the light moment until she suddenly remembered that she didn’t have the handsome prince to slay the dragon. Wait a minute, she corrected, hold that dragon for awhile.

Her laughter bounced against the windshield as she stopped the car beside the sidewalk and turned off the engine. Anxious to be in the sunshine and breathe the fresh air, she quickly stepped out to stand and stare at the Powell estate that stretched out around her.

Only the sounds of nature interrupted the silence. Gone was the noise of several thousand cars jostling for a place on the freeways in the valley and gone was the exhaust and smog that polluted the air that thousands of people breathed daily. Instead, all she could hear was the sound of birds chirping and a breeze rustling the leaves as it filtered through the trees.

When she turned toward the house, an odd trick of the light made it appear to be floating in a mist, but a quick blink cleared away the sensation, leaving the rough-cut stone of the walls looking forbidding, yet strong and protective.

Like a child with a beautiful box to unwrap at Christmas, she wanted to run up the steps—rush forward and take everything in at once, but she held her excitement on a tight leash. She wanted to savor this moment, extend the pleasure and commit it to memory.

She climbed the fifteen stone steps carefully, running one hand along the black iron railing and allowing herself time to catalog each detail. When she was old, she wanted to be able to remember this day and relive the joy she was feeling.

Once on the porch that skirted the front and wrapped around the right side of the house, she stood looking out over the fields and trees, wondering how it would feel to live in a home so close to Los Angeles, yet so hidden from the rest of the world that it was like an island. Guess I’ll soon find out, she murmured, turning back to face the fortress doors.

Rectangles of beveled-glass topped and flanked the two, oak doors that rose at least eleven feet from the porch. The windows tempted her to take a quick look inside -- but she resisted. She didn’t want a peek into an entry hall to be her first impression. She wanted to throw open the doors, step inside and experience the whole house at once.

Melody hesitated an instant, staring down at the key that would unlock the door to a new life. Her lips tilted up at the corners. She was ready and anxious to take a look inside and see her new home.

As she slid the key into the lock, she knew she was about to enter a house that had belonged to another era, another century, or maybe even another world. The flush of excitement warmed her cheeks, encouraging a gentle laugh to slip out as she turned the key.

Hello.

Melody flinched, even as she whirled around and fell back against the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open as her hand jerked up to slam against her chest, over her heart. Oh my goodness, she said, her breath rushing out in a whoosh when she saw a man standing at the foot of the steps. "You startled me. I didn’t know anyone else was here.

She spoke quickly, trying to hide her embarrassment as she straightened to her full height and took a step away from the door. Her pulse raced as she stared down at the man who had silently materialized.

My car is parked around at the back. His voice was deep, carrying on the slight breeze to slam into her with a force that left her speechless.

His eyes narrowed when she didn’t respond, holding hers captive as her senses shot to defense mode and her mind scrambled for a means of protecting herself. With her only exit cut off, it didn’t escape her that her surroundings were isolated. She was at his mercy and she could only pray that he didn’t mean to harm her. Since he wasn’t moving, her heart gradually slowed it’s erratic thundering, but without thinking she reached up to press her fingers against her throbbing temple.

Are you all right? He took a step forward, but halted when she jerked, ramming her back against the door again.

She knew she was vulnerable, but she tried to tell herself that if he meant her harm, he would have already grabbed her. She stepped away from the door and squared her shoulders.

He was dressed in faded jeans and a flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. Dusty, well-used boots completed his outfit, but her gaze quickly returned to thick, dark blond hair, cut in a longish style that reached down to the collar of his shirt. Large hands were planted on his hips in a casual stance, but his face was far from casual. He looked almost angry.

Excuse me. I’m Melody Dawson and…

Why are you here?

Melody frowned. Do you work here? Are you the handyman or gardener?

His snort was accompanied by a chuckle. Well, yes and no. I’m Jason Powell. This place belongs to my grandmother. He shrugged slightly before he continued. Well, actually, she was my step-grandmother, but that’s just a technicality.

Jason Powel, she said, her headache easing as she recognized his name. The attorney mentioned you. I was hoping to someday meet you, but I didn’t expect it to be this soon, she said, smiling as he started up the steps toward her.

So, you’re the granddaughter.

His steps were slow and deliberate, like a large jungle cat stalking his prey, drawing closer in preparation to pounce. The vivid mental picture shot a chill down her spine. She was thankful when he stopped several feet from her, but the smell of sweat and hard work continued on. It wasn’t an unpleasant odor, just one that didn’t seem to fit the man, now that she knew who he was.

From legal assistant to heiress in less than a day, Jason said. That must be one hell of an adjustment.

She kept her gaze on his face, but noted that he was at least six feet tall and muscular. A momentary glance told her that his arms were tanned, displaying an abundance of sun-bleached hair and corded muscles, but his eyes drew her gaze back to his face. He looked strong, capable, angry and dangerous.

Yes, I’m Melody. From what I’m told, Elizabeth Powell is…was… my grandmother and she married Charles Powell quite a few years ago.

So you’re ‘told?’ Didn’t you know her? His head tilted slightly to one side as narrowed eyes studied her face. I know I never saw you around when I visited in the summer or later when I lived here for a few years, but I heard a lot about you from her and saw a few pictures. Although I must say, you’re a little older than her last pictures. You’ve grown up. His smile quirked to one side and was quickly gone, replaced by a stoic mask.

Look, she started, lifting one hand toward him. When she realized that she didn’t want to touch him, she allowed her arm to drop back to her side. I realize it might be difficult to understand, but I never knew she existed. My parents told me that all my grandparents were gone…dead. I believed them, she finished, irritated that he made her feel the need to explain. I had no idea.

So now you own this elusive grandmother’s home. His eyes bore into hers, holding her in place as effectively as chains and locks. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words were lost, her mind a blank wasteland. With effort, she forced her dry throat to swallow.

She was unable to stop the shiver that ran through her body. She was trapped with nowhere to run. She stood straighter and pulled back her shoulders, lifting her chin slightly as he took a step closer. Her eyes never wavered, but her mind was numb.

She told me about her will, so I know that she wanted her home to go to you, but I always wondered if you deserved it. You see, the house has been in my family for four generations.

Melody opened her mouth, but the words rammed up against the lump in her throat, refusing to budge. Did he hate her? Surely he did. When his eyes dropped to her mouth, she snapped it closed and clinched her teeth together to keep them from chattering. She hated being at a disadvantage.

He took one more step, bringing him within inches. His height blocked the sun from her eyes, but his eyes held her captive as his hand started forward. She stood her ground, refusing to budge, but willing her thundering heart to calm and her chest to stop heaving in and out as she sucked in short, choppy breaths.

When his hand was almost to her arm, she blinked several times, holding her last breath as she anticipated his touch. He body stilled, like a soldier at attention, then continued…to reach around her to push the lever and shove the heavy front door open.

After you, my lady, he said with pretended deference, his head bowing slightly, but his eyes remaining locked with hers.

She held his stare for several seconds, his smirk drawing her attention to his mouth before her gaze slid upwards to again be held prisoner by dark, forbidding eyes. When he slowly smiled, she blinked at the transformation. It took a few moments to register, but without conscious thought, she felt her shoulders sag in relief. -- He was getting a laugh at her expense, but she was no longer afraid of him. As first impressions went, she would have to admit that Jason Powell was able to make himself memorable.

Her held breath was released in a nervous laugh. Yes, of course. She turned, again allowing her excitement to surface. Her feet seemed planted, unable to step forward as her eyes beheld her first glimpse of the home’s interior. Oh my God. This place is amazing. I don’t know enough adjectives to describe it. Her words came out hushed and reverent, in awe of the sight that held her back like an invisible force.

The door had swung open on silent hinges, but in the movies she was sure they would have creaked. She hesitated only a second longer, using it to gaze through the wide opening into a vastness that reminded her of a museum or a hotel. It was so humbling and overwhelming that it took time for her mind to fully register what she was seeing and that it now belonged to her.

Behind her, Jason cleared his throat. We can go inside. It’s not haunted or anything, he added, sounding impatient.

You’re right, she said, tossing a quick smile over her shoulder. She knew it was ridiculous to feel awkward, but she felt slightly disoriented, like she didn’t belong. Ridiculous, she muttered under her breath.

Melody stepped over the threshold and for just an instant, a mere blink in time; she felt an odd sensation from head to foot. There was a definite difference in the temperature -- a coolness that sent a shiver down her spine. Just as quickly, the tingling disappeared and a feeling of coming home overwhelmed her. She felt comfort, security and … love. Without seeing the rest of the house, she knew she would not be putting it up for sale. She would be living here and making this her home.

She put the odd feeling behind her as her skin warmed. She felt comfortable, at ease. Even in her parent’s home she had never felt as if she were part of the whole. She had been loved, but not an intrinsic part of their lives. Her parents loved each other to distraction and never needing her for completion, sometimes making her feel like she was in the way. Everything was different now.

Jason followed, an ever-present shadow, as Melody wandered from room to room. She said nothing and touched nothing until she reached the master suite on the second floor. The double doors opened into a huge room dominated by a cherry wood, four-poster bed, night stands with Tiffany lamps, a long dresser with wall-mounted, beveled-glass mirrors and an armoire standing centennial near the door.

Oh my goodness, she whispered. She wandered in, drawn to the right corner of the room where an arched doorway led into the round, turret room that was set up with a Queen Anne, floral-patterned, love seat, a wing-backed, cushioned chair and a low table.

Melody was unable to explain the strange disoriented feeling that coursed through her body when she stood, staring around the circular room. Her eyes were drawn to a chair sitting just to the left of the loveseat, a chair that faced the windows and caught the afternoon sun. She frowned slightly as she blinked. She had the oddest feeling that the chair was -- smiling at her.

Do you see that? She turned, excitement bubbling in her voice as she reached out a hand to beckon Jason closer.

What? When he was beside her, he followed her stare to look at the chair that stood adjacent to the couch. See what? The chair? When she nodded, he continued. It used to be in the attic and she asked me to bring it down for her some years back.

Never mind, she laughed softly. I guess it’s just a trick of the light, but interesting nonetheless, how the shading on the velvet chair should resemble eyes and a smiling mouth.

With a quick laugh, one that resonated in the small, octagon room, Melody stepped forward and sat down in the chair. Like a caterpillar within a cocoon, she snuggled into the plush cushions, sinking down to be wrapped in its cozy warmth. Her eyes closed for a few seconds before she turned to look at Jason. Her excitement lifted the corners of her mouth.

I’m keeping the house.

Are you sure? It’s a lot of house to live here alone, he cautioned. I was going to offer to buy it from you.

So you could live here alone? She stood, looking toward the tall thin windows and putting her back to him. She tossed a wary glance over her shoulder. No, it’s home. I can feel it, she told him, moving to the turret window to gaze over the trees toward the highway below. She belonged here. It was a feeling deep in her soul.

She moved back into the bedroom to perch on the edge of the bed and run her hand over the deep rose-colored comforter. Mauve and burgundy-colored pillows were artfully arranged near the headboard. After one class in interior design, she knew someone had nice taste in colors and done a good job in arranging the furniture.

The drapes matched the bed comforter and were currently pulled back to allow the afternoon sunlight to stream in and warm the room. Yes, she repeated, I’m home. I’ll move in tomorrow. Oh, she said, her eyes darting toward Jason. If that’s all right, of course. Do you live here? Will having to leave make you homeless? Suddenly she realized that she knew nothing about the man. She didn’t even know where he lived.

No, he chuckled. I live in San Diego. I was just up here getting some of my personal things out of the house and garage…and saying good-bye for the last time.

Their heads turned in unison toward the bedroom door when the front door chimes echoed through the house.

Are you expecting company already? His frown was slight, but she could hear the censure in his tone.

No. I wasn’t even expecting you, she muttered, stepping around him and heading toward the grand staircase.

She rushed the last few steps to open the door wide. Anthony! What a pleasant surprise. Come in. She closed the door behind the attorney turning to watch while he ogled the grandeur of the square, two-story entry hall and the living room off to the right.

Wait until you see the rest, she laughed. It’s the most fantastic place I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe it’s really mine. I want to move in right away, she added, clasping her hands together in front of her. Is that legal?

Absolutely, he chuckled. You signed the papers and it’s a mere technicality that it’s not officially yours until your birthday in two weeks.There’s no stipulation against you moving in early, so by all means, go ahead. The paperwork will record with the county the morning you turn twenty-five. Do you mind if I look around?

No, not at all. Her smile slipped slightly when she saw his eyes divert and widen as he stared toward the staircase. When she turned to look, Jason was coming down the steps, tall and regal, every bit the lord of the manor as he stretched out his hand toward the other man.

Good afternoon. I’m Jason Powell and you are…?

Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Powell. I’m Anthony Graham, an attorney with Foxworthy, Mitchell and Graham. I didn’t realize you would be here today. I knew Melody…Miss Dawson, he said, glancing at Melody, was planning to come and thought she might welcome some company while going through a strange place. He pulled his hand back after a brief shake.

Well, as you can see, she’s not alone, so…

But I’m so glad you came. Let me show you through the house, she said, taking Anthony’s arm and guiding him toward the living room.

You know, Mel, you need to remember to shut the gate after you get home. Keeps out strangers, Jason continued as he followed behind the two. Her only answer was to hurtle a glare over her shoulder. Her frown momentarily deepened when he only shrugged.

With determination she returned her attention to the attorney. You’ve never been here before?

No. She always came to the office. She said it gave her a reason to dress up and come to town for lunch, he said. He answered her question, but he continued to survey his surroundings, obviously awestruck. I know my father took her to lunch on several occasions, but I never had the pleasure of seeing her home.

After a quick tour, chaperoned by Jason who followed like a faithful puppy, remaining silent and foreboding the entire time, Melody wanted to turn on him and yell at him to go away. Only one thing stopped her. She didn’t want to make him angry. After all, what if he decided to contest the will? Even if she won in court, it could tie up her inheritance for a long time to come and she had fallen in love with the mansion, a house that seemed to call to her. She wanted to move in as quickly as possible.

When they were again on the main floor, Jason finally spoke. Well, Tony…do people call you Tony?

No, everyone calls me Anthony, he said, his voice level and cool as he stared at Jason.

Oh, okay. Well, what do you think of our house?

Melody didn’t miss the reference to partial ownership, even if it was by heritage versus actual ownership, but she remained silent, watching Anthony as he directed his attention to the brooding man. Jason had stopped to stand behind the sofa, balanced on widespread legs and with his hands shoved into his front pockets. Casual, but with a lethal glint in his eyes.

The attorney spoke slowly, measuring his words. He seemed to be trying to figure out the lay of the territory. I think it’s fantastic, but rather large for one person. He turned toward Melody. "You don’t have to decide