Black Hollow

1

Boston, Massachusetts 1892

T

he day was bitter, the clouds had overshadowed my mind as heavy rain pattered and pooled on the streets that led to the townhall. This was where she resided, waiting, my darling Elene.

When I first saw her as I entered the grand hall, I noted that she was a true vision. She wore garments of luminous grandeur―a pale blue dress clung to her shapely body, and I was mesmerized by her stride. The silhouette of her dress gently hugged her, exposing the contour of her slender legs. My eyes could not help traveling to the golden locks that snaked down her back in coils. Captivating were her rapture-blue eyes, peeking out from beneath fine-spun eyelashes. Her button nose twitched almost nervously, and her blossom-colored lips quivered as she walked by.

She was inexpressible and flawless in every manner, and when I heard the first words she spoke, my heart leapt. They held a mystery—her voice dulcet despite her cold tone. "Must you stare?"

I took my towering black hat off to her, feeling the rim between my fingertips. Leaning forward, my jacket brushed my back as I lowered into a bow. "Forgive me, my lady. Such beauty is impossible not to notice," I responded coyly, my manner smooth as honey, and shone a smile at her. I rose from my bow, hoping it would make a lasting impression.

In return, she raised an arched brow, looking perplexed. Her soft features accompanied cheeks that bloomed like a rose against her creamy skin, her parted lips pink as she cleared her throat and readjusted her alluring dress with a delicate turn of her hand.

"Staring is not very gentleman-like," she said, her lyrical voice rising.

The astonished woman raised a hand, setting it on her bosom, then turned her head, avoiding eye contact and any possible connection as she started walking once more, striding toward the exit of the town hall. Before she could move any further, I promptly acted and seized her slender hand, my tender heart racing.

Desperation was interwoven in my voice, and I heard it crack. "My beloved wonder, please tell me your name," I begged. At this point, I was quite apprehensive. I was touching the exquisite creature that had made my heart pound so. My breathing became sporadic as I waited for her answer.

"My name is for I to know and you not to ask for," she stated, swerving around and away from me as if I had struck her. I gawked as she fled, her heels clicking down the long path toward the edge of the building.

In adjusting my overcoat, I groaned. It would be a shame for a treasure of her sort to vanish. I knew I needed to act fast, so I collected my emotions and harried after her. It had been a while since I was 'on the hunt' so to say, and women of her essence tended to stray away from sheepish men such as I.

"Must you follow me?" she exclaimed, causing my mind to whirl.

"I was always instructed to follow my intuitions, my lady," I commented, matching her pace.

"What a line," she responded with attitude, convincing my body to move on its own and pursue her out into the pouring rain. I watched with attentive eyes as she plucked open the small blue umbrella that she had been clasping in her other hand. She pitched it skyward and took cover below from the rain. I hoped to stand beside her, to take her hand, yearning for her to be mine.

Unfortunately, I was interrupted by the approach of a mahogany carriage. Rainwater pushed against my leather boots as it drew to a halt, towering over me, its oil lantern shifting against its side. The coach master loomed tall, perched on his seat, yet I could hardly notice him. I was jaded, my eyes fixed on the woman who whirled around to face me.