Partridge and the Peartree (8 page)

Rage coursed through Donovan's veins, the memories
once again clawing at his heart. He slammed his fist down on the
arm of the chair. "Silence! Don't speak of them." With a trembling
hand, he set the glass on the tray and stood. "I believe my
imagination has been entertained enough for one evening. It's long
past time for me to retire."

Past Duke rose slowly. "You don't think I'm
real."

Donovan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
His anger drained away, leaving him with a heavy heart. He had
enough demons to fight without adding arguing with himself to
it.

Past Duke drew his foot back and planted a hard kick
to Donovan's shin, making him curse.

"Whyever did you do that?" he demanded, rubbing his
throbbing leg.

"This isn't a dream. Although I'd be more than happy
to punch you in the nose if you need more convincing."

Donovan glared at him. "I don't advise that."

"Avoiding me won't make me disappear. I'm here to
grant you one wish."

"Then I wish for you to go away."

The room fell silent; the other him seemed to blur,
become faint. The embers in the fire dimmed to no more than tiny
sparks. Both candles went out. A draft swept through the fireplace,
sending a chill through Donovan's body. He shivered.

"What the devil?"

The room fell black and the air stopped moving,
forcing Donovan to draw in deeply to fill his lungs, making him
dizzy. He tried to move but was frozen in place. Almost as if he'd
been glued to the spot, as if the darkness was a prison.

Panic spiked through him. His sanity had clearly
deserted him, leaving him trapped in this nightmare.
Wake up.
Wake up now.

Donovan seemed to be spinning, then suddenly the fire
crackled to life and the candles again illuminated the study. He
whirled around, searching the shadowy corners. Relieved no demons
were lurking about, he let out the breath he'd been holding.
Just as I suspected. A dream. A drunken hallucination, had to
be. One that sobered me quite fast.

Conversing with myself. What a ridiculous
notion.
He retrieved the candle from the table. When he turned
toward the door, Past Duke was there. Donovan's body trembled and
his heart thumped erratically, seeming to skip more than beat. The
lightheaded sensation from a few moments earlier returned with a
vengeance, and he dropped to his knees. The monster blocking his
exit was Death, come to collect him. He had to get out of there,
get away before the demon took his life.

But isn't that what you want? To leave this world?
Leave the loneliness of having lost all those you love?

The fear coursing through his body seemed to answer
back,
No! I want to live! Get up!

Past Duke tilted his face toward the ceiling. "Why
did I think this would be easy?"

Donovan lurched to his feet and backed away. The
vision of himself filled the doorway, the room, demanding his full
attention. "W-what do y-you want from me?"

The ghost stalked him. "I want the same thing you
want. The life I should have had — could have had, if you hadn't
been such a fool."

"I-I-I don't understand." Donovan collided with the
wall. His body shook so violently that his teeth banged against
each other.

Past Duke stopped in front of him. "You will soon
enough. You, my dear fellow, are going to go back to the past and
fix it."

"Fix the past? Fix what?"

"You're going to set right what you did wrong."

"I've gone mad," he whispered.

"Your heart cries with the regret and sorrow from the
past. I'm the person you should have been, still can be. But only
if you can set the future on the right course," Past Duke said.

A shiver ran up Donovan's spine. "What foolishness is
this? I beg you for mercy. Let me awaken from this nightmare."

"You've spent eight years punishing yourself far more
than I ever could." Sorrow crossed the past duke's face. The lines
on his brow deepened; his lips turned down slightly.

"So your intentions are to make my suffering worse?"
Donovan snapped. No one needed to remind him of what he'd lost…
what he didn't have.

"Of course not. I intend to send you back to
Christmas Eve 1812."

Donovan hrumphed. "And how would that be?"

"Like this."

Past Duke shoved him hard in the chest, pressed so
forcefully Donovan was sure the apparition's fingers touched his
heart, causing it to momentarily stop. Then his thoughts ceased and
darkness consumed him.

Check out all of Astraea Press's Regency Christmas
titles!

Available now!!!

Astraea Press

Pure. Fiction.

www.astraeapress.com