Love in Fantasy (Skeleton Key) (8 page)

“Beth,” I inquire, extending my hand. “Did you drop this?”

“Nope,” she says, examining it curiously. “It’s certainly unique, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I agree. “I would imagine whomever left it is bound to come back and look for it. Why don’t you hang on to it?”

She takes the key with a smile, “Will do. Oh, and Oliver”—she leans in, her voice suddenly a conspiratorial whisper—“let me know if there is anything I can do to help you out with Pippa.” She winks, slipping the key into the pocket of her jeans, and with a wave, turns to run up a grand staircase. I chuckle to myself; she’s about to help me out tremendously and doesn’t even realize it. I mentally salute Wilhelm and wish him good luck.

Another restless night is ahead of me but I cling to the successes Wilhelm has had so far.

Meanwhile. . .

Beth’s Fantasy

T
he sultry voice of Adele croons from Beth’s phone as she wanders the gardens behind the palace. She hums along and inhales the fresh, spring air, breaking down the floral mixtures and categorizing them in her head. With a bachelor’s degree in Horticulture and a master’s in Landscape Architecture, it’s no surprise this is her favorite place to be.

But, the best part is the special garden she has been growing and caring for since she was ten. It was a little bit hidden, and so the groundskeeper had overlooked it for years, causing it to become overgrown and a complete mess. While exploring one day, she’d found the door to it and after telling her father, he suggested she take on the task of reviving it. He’d recognized the depth of her interest and wanted to encourage her to pursue it.

She’d always been the dreamy one, lost to her imagination, and it fueled her creativity to design landscapes. She consulted with the groundskeeper and local florists, eventually designing a perfect little garden. Over the years, little by little, it was really shaping up. It had also become somewhat of a family project, all of them helping out when needed, but always following her direction.

The garden was surrounded by a fence completely covered in ivy, giving the area a private, peaceful feel. She’d had a beautiful, custom gate made to look like an arched wooden door, to completely enclose it. She had her very own
Secret Garden;
she figured she might as well embrace the story. It was late, perhaps around midnight, but there were outdoor lamps that gave it a soft glow. She refused to disturb the growth within, so the lamps were installed outside the walls, high enough to curve over and provide illumination.

Arriving at the door, she pulled it open and meandered inside, shutting it behind her. For some reason tonight, it felt even more like a magical place. She sits on a stone bench to relax but is startled when an odd vibration comes from her pocket. Digging into her jeans, she removes the key Oliver had found in the hallway earlier. When it begins to glow, she stares at it, thinking she should probably be panicking, even as her eyes are drawn to another side of the garden and she sees a new door.
I must be sniffing too much Damiana.
She shrugs, if she’s high, she might as well go with it, right?

Almost like a magnetic pull, she can tell the key and the door are connected. Even without that though, it’s pretty obvious by the matching carving above the lock. Slipping the key into the hole, she turns it, and the door swings open.

It’s definitely not what she expected. The gold and cream foyer is amazing, but it’s odd, considering her simple tastes, to find herself imaging such lavishness. Even if she
is
high as a kite. An enormous set of double doors have another matching lock, so she repeats the process and. . .
Definitely
, she thinks,
definitely stoned
.

She’s suddenly walking out onto one of the palaces terraces, this one connecting through several sets of glass French doors to an amazing ballroom which, sadly, almost never gets used. Except, tonight, it’s seriously hopping. The room is packed with people, all laughing, dancing, and eating delicious-looking hors d’oeuvres. Parties aren’t usually her scene, and she considers returning to her little hidey hole until her mind comes down from the clouds, and then going to bed. She takes a step back, stumbling from her precarious balance, due to the spiked heels she didn’t realize she was wearing.

Even with nobody there to witness it, she blushes, realizing these are the shoes she keeps hidden way back in her closet. A guilty pleasure she knew she would never indulge in. Skimming her eyes up the rest of her body, she recognizes the shimmery, black mini-skirt, and the red corset top, both having come from that same stash. She’d let a saleswoman talk her into trying the outfit on one day, and when she looked into the mirror, she kind of liked the new version of herself. Particularly the top, it made the girls look fantastic, when they are normally quite . . . well, normal. Beth wasn’t an ugly duckling suddenly turned into a swan, she wasn’t plain, or unattractive; she just didn’t stand out. And, most of the time, she was perfectly fine with it. But, in her secret, most personal fantasies, she dreams of being someone people notice. Well, not
people
, just one person. Her soulmate. Whoever he is. So, she bought the outfit, then stuffed it away in her closet, because fantasies are by definition, imagining things that are impossible or improbable. Stepping to the side, she blends into the wall and watches for a few minutes. She is the quintessential wallflower and she always will be.

With a sigh, Beth turns to make her way back through the enchanted door but isn’t able to take more than one step before someone grabs her elbow and spins her around. Unused to the heels, and in a state of surprise, she lurches forward into a pair of strong arms, slamming up against a muscular chest. “Oof!”

The arms tighten, and the sexiest voice she has ever heard says, “Leaving so soon?”

If she were wearing panties, (
I’m not wearing panties? What the hell? It appears, deep down, I’m quite the hussy
) they would have burst into flames. Her insides melt and without a barrier to keep it contained, wetness leaks onto her inner thighs.

His blond hair, in need of a cut, ruffles in the evening breeze, and those amazing eyes are surrounded by thick lashes of the same color. An angular jaw, high cheek bones, and the fact that he is obviously over six foot, makes her think he must be of Scandinavian heritage. She briefly wonders what their kids would looks like, since they are such opposites in looks. Whoa there, Nelly. You might want to back up, then back up even more.

“I, um. . .” She is already stuttering over her words, then she makes the mistake of looking up and connecting with the most startling blue eyes she’s ever seen.
Ever.
As if their beauty alone isn’t enough to fluster her, they are filled with heat. Like, I want to rip your panties off (
He doesn’t know I’m not wearing panties, right?)
and have my way with you right now, kind of heat.

He loosens his embrace and steps away, only far enough to run his ocean blue orbs over her body, leaving a wake of fire in their path. “I can’t let you go anywhere, I’m afraid,” he says once his eyes return to hers. His voice is like smooth, rich espresso, jolting her every nerve and making her hypersensitive. She is suddenly grateful for the tight bindings of her top since they keep the world from seeing the way her nipples harden.

“What?” she asks in a high voice. She’d rather we not classify it as a squeak, denial is such a lovely place.

“You’re too fucking beautiful. If you leave, someone else might find you, and if they touched you, I’d have to kill them,” he growls menacingly.

What exactly are you supposed to say to something like that? Maybe if she wasn’t
insanely
attracted to him, she could have had a true feminist moment and slapped his handsome face. Or, been afraid of him, considering the frightening look on his face. Yeah, no. Instead, she swoons and mentally calculates what it would take to get him to take her to a dark corner and fuck her.
Hussy, indeed.

“What is your name, gorgeous?” he queries, tugging her back into his arms.

“Beth,” she says on a gasp, her close proximity to his body making it
very
clear he wants her.

“Beth,” he repeats as a smile grows on his face. “I’m Andrew.” His face lowers, his lips coming closer and closer to hers, all the while his eyes hold a warning. Somehow, she knows what he’s saying with the look; speak now or forever be his. Is this supposed to be a tough question? She closes the gap, pressing her lips against his, giving herself over to him. He groans and uses his thumb to nudge her chin down, opening her mouth so he can plunge his tongue inside. Angling his head, he deepens the kiss and gathers her up in his arms, holding her as close as he can. He starts walking forward, backing her up against the railing of the terrace that overlooks the vast gardens. Gliding his hands from where they’d been caressing her back, down to fill them with her ass. He lifts her, molding their bodies together, and the large bulge in his pants pressing into her heat. Then, he sets her on the railing, spreading her legs so he can stand in between them, before gluing their bodies together again.

She gasps when she feels a finger trailing up her thigh, under her skirt, and running through the lips of her naked pussy. He grunts and dips his finger inside her. “As much as I appreciate the easy access, gorgeous,” he mumbles against her lips, “I don’t ever want to find you without panties in public, again.” He adds a second finger and scissors them, making her moan as her body begins to spiral. “This pussy is all mine, and I don’t want even the slightest chance that someone else might see it.”

Using his teeth, he tugs down one side of her corset until a breast springs free, then latches on to the nipple. His increases the speed of his fingers—in and out—until her every muscle is frozen to the point of pain. Removing them, he pinches her clit and bites down on her nipple, causing her to splinter apart. Catching her scream with his mouth, he returns his fingers inside to work her slowly down. After a few minutes, he rips his lips away, panting and staring into her eyes with an unreadable emotion. “Exquisite,” he whispers gruffly. “I don’t know what’s happening here, gorgeous. All I know is, from the moment I saw you, you were mine.”

She honestly can’t argue with his logic, especially when her body is floating to the ground in post orgasmic bliss. Besides, she’d felt the same thing, her body and heart yearning for him instantly. “How did you even see me?” She cocks her head, honestly curious.

Andrew’s brows furrow as he looks at her incredulously. “How could I miss you, Beth?”

Helping her off of the railing, he rights her top and smooths down her skirt, before extending his hand towards her. Without hesitation, she takes it and an idea has her tugging it earnestly. “I want to show you something.”

He smiles at her enthusiasm and lets her lead the way. She turns towards the door only to find it gone. And with it, the key. Well, fuck a duck. How was she supposed to get back through? In case you were wondering, it was about halfway into her orgasm when she accepted the fact that she wasn’t high and this is clearly some sort of alternate universe.

She had every intention of taking him through it with her; she refused to entertain the idea of going back without him. She’d finally found him—the
one
—her soulmate, and there was no way she was letting him go.

“If you’re looking for the door you came in through, I don’t think it works like that, gorgeous.” Andrew’s comment had her whipping around in astonishment and complete confusion. He shrugs, but his expression is frustrated. “I know this isn’t reality as much as you do. I just haven’t found a solution yet, because I’m not giving you up.”

His words do funny things to her stomach and her heart skips a beat. Clutching his hand tightly, she leads him to the stone steps of the terrace and down into the gardens. “I can still show you my special place. My
Secret Garden
.”

When they reach the secret garden, he looks around in awe. “This is amazing, Beth.”

She blushes and he runs a finger over the pink-tinged cheek. “This is what I do. I’m a landscape architect.”

He raises a brow, studying her for a minute, before chuckling. “I should have guessed my perfect woman would work with plants.” At her questioning look, he goes on, “I’m a botanist.”

Before she can control her mouth, she says, “You’re a geek? But, you’re so hot.” Then, she slaps her hands over her mouth, mortified. Andrew bursts out laughing and scoops her into his arms, planting a hard kiss on her lips.

“Yeah, gorgeous, I’m a complete nerd. I may not look like it, but trust me, inside, I’ve got the glasses, bow tie, and pocket protector.”

Beth giggles and snuggles into him as he settles on one of the wicker chairs situated in the center of the garden. They talk, for what seems like hours, getting to know each other and sneaking in kisses and touches here and there. But, it’s late, and as hard as she fights it, eventually, she falls asleep.