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Alexandra Leigh-Evans sat silently, shrinking into the darkness of the barouche, thundering towards their destination, as her sisters chatted away beside her. Staring out into the night, she could see the fields reaped or ripe for harvest, their scarecrows standing as solitary, ragged apparitions in the full harvest moonlight. Autumn had painted the countryside in her rusted colors and the pale moon now drenched the land in a warm but ethereal glow. She looked sullenly to her sisters but they took no notice of her as usual, continuing their mindless prattle and gossiping.

"Who will be there?" Deirdre wondered excitedly.

"I heard Lord Emberly will make an appearance," Lisa-Anne, the eldest replied. It was well known that she considered the young bachelor marquis as quite a catch and had long ago set her sights on him. "Mmmmmmm," she sighed, taking a deep breath of crisp autumn air from the opened window, "Hallowtide; what a romantic time."

"And mysterious," Deirdre added. "Perhaps we will see the Gleneagles ghostie at the ball."

"Bite your tongue!" Lisa-Anne scolded. "It's wicked to speak of such things. Oh," she cried suddenly, gesturing wildly as she stuck her head out the window, glancing at something by the roadside. "Oh," she cried again, "do stop, driver! Do you not see that man walking there? Hullo," she called out, waving her arm about. "Do come in from the cold, sir, for I believe we are headed in the same direction!"

The handsome young man who took a seat across from Alexandra was in the full naval uniform of a lieutenant, with soft copper highlighted blonde hair, twinkling sapphire eyes and a mischievous smile to his jovially set mouth, revealing sparkling white teeth that deeply contrasted his smooth tanned skin. "Lieutenant Kennedy," he introduced himself, settling into his seat as he ran his hand through his slightly disheveled locks. Ah, thought Alexandra, one of the Kennedy boys. She was suddenly very cold and drew her shawl tightly about her body; could her sisters not feel that pervading chill? "How do you do, ladies?"

"Very well, sir," replied Deirdre, coquettishly pursing her lips and batting her eyelashes. "We are the Misses Leigh-Evanses; I am Deirdre and this is my older sister, Lisa-Anne. We all call her Liza," she said and a distinct snort could be heard from Lisa-Anne, who obviously thought it improper to introduce themselves by their Christian names.

"I am Alexandra," the petite figure dressed in a white silk gown that sat counter to him said shyly. "Everyone just calls me Lexie; you may as well...if you like." He nodded formally in her direction though his eyes never left her lovely round face; the full, wine colored mouth which pouted naturally and invited even the most courteous gentlemen to illicit kisses, the deep rippling chocolate pools of her eyes set against her wan skin, the tight chestnut curls framing her face. She blushed deeply under his cerulean scrutiny, feeling something stir within her breast, something strangely kindred.

He confirmed he was in fact heading in the same direction they were: the Lord and Lady Breton's annual harvest festival and ball; he and his family attended every year but, he confessed, due to his own vanity, he had missed the carriage and had decided to walk on this fine fall evening. He made quaint small talk with her sisters, but it was Lexie he remained interested in, his gaze firmly planted upon her and she as well grew bolder and began to return his stare. There was no malice or impropriety in it, merely a gentle attraction and a sort of similar spark of magnetism. He did not speak one word to her for the entire ride, but was unrelenting in consuming the sight of her.

The carriage drew to a halt in front of the Breton's estate, the entrance to which was decorated with hay stalks and the soft flicker of torches. Further inside, the spicy smell of freshly harvested apples and the Colonies' very own pumpkin overwhelmed Lexie. Children were playing a game at the far side of the ballroom and pleasant conversation filled the hall as the adult guests sampled some of the fine crop the Breton's farm had yielded this year.

The dances began soon enough and, as always, Lexie found herself lurking against the wall without a partner. She sighed, talking a smallish bite of an apple tart as she watched the dancers take their turns across the floor. The lieutenant found his way into her thoughts, creeping up on her until he had seized hold of all of her fantasies. It had been long since a gentleman had paid her such attentions and the simple memory of his heated, intent gaze made her tingle in definite places as well as grow damp between her thighs. That had only happened once before, when she was younger. She had grown attracted to one of her father's business associates, with his sea green stare and gently graying auburn hair. That night her sister had taught her the ways that a woman might touch herself to give pleasure and she had massaged the little pearl hidden within the fleshy folds of the secret treasure chest between her legs as she thought her dream lover until a feeling so potent had washed over her she thought she would die of it. Liza had told her that when she was married and intimate with a man, she would feel the same sensation only much more so. She flushed profoundly as she found herself now wishing she could feel that sensation with Lieutenant Kennedy.

As if he had sprung from her very mind, she heard his tender voice near her ear and turned to see him standing beside her. "You look positively miserable," he said, a smile dancing within those eyes of his. "Do you not have a partner for the evening?"

"I'm afraid not, Lieutenant," she answered, a small grin passing across her broad lips letting him know that his presence was welcomed. "I think my fate lies amongst the wall flowers," she teased. "Tell me, why is it you did not speak to me in the carriage?"

"Your sisters, they are more accustomed to the idle polite drivel of society," he replied with a chuckle. "I did not think I needed such words of genteel conversation to placate you as well." And, he added to himself, perhaps this night of all nights, the harvest moon will reveal all, my kindred.

"Indeed, you did not," her crimson cheeks colored further, matching the autumn décor. He was of average height, his body robust and solid from his service in the navy. Lexie enjoyed the differences between them; how she had to tilt her head somewhat to meet his eyes, how perfectly her well rounded but elfin body would fit into the circle of his embrace. Again, she could not shake the feeling that they were somehow connected, cut of the same cloth, nor could she shake the cold that wobbled her bones like cornstalks or crisp, dying leaves in the chilly night air.

"I suppose then it would do me no good to ask you for a dance," he said with a mischievous spark to his lovely but unfathomable blue eyes.

"Nay," she laughed, looking at him curiously, "for I am not well practiced and would most likely end up trotting all over your toes!"

"Very well then," he smiled, a beautiful but sad sort of thing that reminded her of how the trees must feel when they become aware that fall has come and they must shed their summery attire and die inwardly. But trees were never fully dead, just sleeping. How restless they must get, she thought. "Will you then do me the honor of touring the gardens with me? I am told that they are afforded the most spectacular view of the fields in the moonlight."

She nodded her approval and for the first time he touched her, leaving something of a warm scar from their contact; not the gentle rose colored imprint of human touch but more like the flush the autumn winds caused to the cheeks. They were out in the gardens; she did not remember how they came to be there, there walk was something of an odd blur in her mind, but there was no denying that there they were at that very moment.

The gardens were cold and dead; no, not dead, she reminded herself, only restlessly sleeping. In the illumination of the round cider-apple moon she could see the skeletal outline of trees that had only months before held the most handsome of greens, the bony fingers reaching upwards to the mysterious night sky. More pumpkins lined the path; these were carved into faces and lighted with a single burning candle as, she was told, was becoming increasingly popular amongst the southern colonies across the pond. They left strange shadows lurking in the darkness there as the orange glow flicker, flicker, flickered in the autumnal breeze. For a moment she thought she could spy movement by the tree that it was said the old Colonel Fits-Breton hung himself after the death of his wife. She giggled at herself for being so susceptible to the night's atmosphere. "How is it I've not seen you here before?"

"I have been long away from this place," he admitted. "Though, sometimes I cannot help but feel I return here always." His eyes were sad, distant for a moment. "I grew up here; I know this country well. So many happy memories here."

"What are those then?" she asked, the gardens indeed providing a spectacular view of the recently reaped fields where intriguing circles of fire were ablaze, turning the blackened sky almost crimson above them.

"The old ways," answered Lieutenant Kennedy. "Bonfires to protect them from the spirits."

"Does it work?" she asked teasingly, dancing around him, feeling suddenly as if a great weight had been lifted from her. Her white silk dress floated about her like a phantom and she held her arms outstretched, using her shawl like a twirling apparition as she giggled. "How very provincial," she said, even though she knew she came from farming stock as well. "Shall I read your fortune in the moon?"

"Do you not believe in spirits then?" he asked mysteriously.

"Do you?" she asked, coloring slightly. "Yes, yes I suppose I do. And goulies," she said, her playful mood returning, "and goblins and fairies and witches. And I suppose I must be a sister of the night as well for I am terribly wicked and foretell that you will kiss me. 'Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing,--For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble!'"

He grinned, remembering his Shakespeare. "'Journeys end in lovers meeting,'" he muttered and then louder, "'We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.'" He chuckled softly. "Sister of the night as you must be for I do believe a spell has been placed upon me. I cannot resist you lips, parting so temptingly..." Taking her into his arms and pressing his mouth to hers. She was awkward at first, never having been properly kissed by a man before. He was contented just to taste her lips, to drink of the upper first and then the lower until her grew hungry for more and his tongue darted at the corner of her full mouth. She gasped in surprise at the first lovely warm, wet touch and utterly gob smacked when his tongue took advantage of her slightly parted lips and thrust inside. What had first had felt deliciously wicked in of itself seemed only now a small innocent sort of thing as his velvet organ ravaged her in a breathtaking kiss, speaking of passion and of sinful longings. She was damp between her legs again but this time it felt more like a flood than a mere wetness as stickiness flowed freely from the dewy petals of her virgin sex. Her surrender was complete, as she did not even stop the wicked caress of his strong hands against her breasts or the gentle urging backwards onto one of the garden's stone benches.

She laid her head back as he unloosed her recklessly curly mass of chestnut locks, his mouth moving down the ample swell of her bosom, rising and falling rapidly now in her growing arousal. His lips and tongue caressed the pale globes as his clever fingers worked around to the back of her gown, fumbling with and letting free a few buttons until he could shift the garment down and the fullness of her abundant creamy globes was exposed to him. Her nipples, firm and pert already from his fondling, tightened in the cool night air a moment before Kennedy placed the deliriously wicked heat of his mouth atop it. He savored the dusky nub, as full and wine colored as her lips, as he suckled her voraciously, pulling with the delicious suction of his lips as his tongue teased and tickled while swirling round and around. He paid the blossoming bud's twin the same attention, wondering at her sweetness and beauty, her skin as lovely and smooth as marble, as alabaster.

It seemed to go on forever, and Lexie believe she might truly die from the delightful sensations that washed over her with every lustful tug of his lips. That was before she was aware of what he planned to do next. Standing, he urged her bottom to the edge of the bench, showing her to part her legs as he knelt between them and began lifting her skirts. Curious as she was, she remained contented to lay back and let him do to her what he would; he was most obviously experienced, but there was a tenderness in his touch that could speak only of the devoted of loves as he ran his roughened, callused sailor's hands over the smooth silk of her stockings. The contrast was astounding, arousing as he gently massaged the crook at the back of her knees. He moved his hands upwards.

Before she knew what was happening, she was laid bare to him, like the banquet upon the table inside. And feast on her was exactly what he intended to do. Pressing his face to the wiry mat of curls at the juncture of her thighs, he inhaled her scent with great abandon. Clean and briny, like the sea, he thought, and licked his lips, his clever pink tongue excited by her lingering perfume, longing to taste her.

He heard her audibly shocked but not displeased gasp as he parted her soft mossy furrow and dove into the silky skin of her womanhood eagerly. She cried aloud, her hurried breaths escaping her mouth in a milky cloud like a wraith in the crisp air. Lieutenant Kennedy's tongue lapped at her greedily, relishing her salty nectar in big loud gulps as his tongue excited her clitoris with playful licks. He was as a kitten with a fresh bowl of cream, the sandpaper smoothness of his tongue taking its time as he consumed her. He swirled his tongue around her entrance lusciously, slurping up her ambrosia as it flowed from her as freely as a fountain, before daring a penetration. His tongue plunged up into her velvet tunnel, tickling the walls until her wailing of pleasure became fervently intense and he could feel her begin to tighten around him. Not yet, he thought, withdrawing much to Lexie's dismay. "Go back down," she panted, gazing into his roguishly gleaming eyes from across the length of her body.

He was on top of her, kissing her neck and mouth, letting her sample her own flavor as if it were the most delicious thing in the world. It had been so long and she was so soft; no doxy, detached, going through the motions of desire, but a lady of ardor, tender, passionate, soft and submissively his. He whispered huskily to her, "Let me. Let me come inside of you."

Yes, yes, YES, she wanted to scream, but no words would come from her throat so she only nodded slowly but passionately. He stood and her breath caught as he began to unloose his trousers. She listened to the sound of the wind, vigorous and pure; rattle through the skeletal trees, shaking the leaves that dared to cling long after their time, as well as the sound of the long grasses gently flowing and rippling. The blaze from the bonfires became intense, bending shadows of trees and hay stalks as well as their own as the flames leapt high. It was like an autumnal dance; the waltz of All Hallows Eve. They were no longer separate beings but as one in the night as their shadows caught and connected.

His prick was rampant by the time he freed it, the loose cider-apple skin stretching tightly over the full fat length of him, revealing a large ruby crown, which glistened with droplets that came seductively from its crown. She had never seen man before but surely even she could tell that he was an exemplary specimen. His staff was thick and she dared imagine she could not get her fingers all the way around its girth, and as long as her foot from toe to heel. Her body ached for the joining and she arched her pelvis in his direction, and biting her lips in ecstasy as he once more lay upon her and she could feel his heated, throbbing flesh press against the moist lips of her womanly flower. He kissed her tenderly, holding her as one hand fell to his nethers and guided his iron hard saber inside her yielding softness.

He entered carefully but found, to his surprise, no maidenly resistance, and so his drive became more and more urgent as he fed himself to her inch by inch. She never imagined being filled in such a way, to feel so utterly complete and wonderful. She drew his mouth down to hers and kissed him in the same fashion as he had her. He responded with a fierce growl, pumping into her tight wet warmth strongly. He had never fit inside a woman so perfectly before, never imagined it possible as her clinging, silken passage gripped him like a velvet glove, caressing his foreskin back and forth as he thrust.

They held each other ardently, tenderly, feeding off the other's cries of rapture as he ravished her, imagining he could feel the very entrance to her womb as he stroked in all the way, the ripened tip of his cock being gripped by her muscles most deliciously. Again he reached between their bodies to the place of their joining and took the fleshy pearl of her sex between his fingers, massaging it roughly until wave after wave of colored breakers swept over her and she felt as if she must be being swept away by a tide of rainbows. Her body convulsed, sending sensations she would never believe possible to feel pulsing throughout her body along with a marvelous sort of heat and languor. Her sweet little cunny gripped him so tightly as she crested he had to push more forcefully for him own so he might be all the way inside of her when the rise of his seed came. And it did it might surges, torrents of his sticky white-hot essence filling her, splashing upon her thighs and shooting far into her until he had spent his last drop.

They lay for a long while in each other's embrace, awed by the power and greatness of their coupling. He kissed her, his lips like the flutter of the falling leaves as he whispered words of love, of devotion, of deepest heart's desires. He did not want to ever let go and perhaps he never would, but the hour was getting late and he had to be returning. They found that her sisters had already departed without her and so he offered to share a cab with her, happy that for a time longer he would be able to hold her within his arms.

Old Tobey had been lingering outside the Breton manor, knowing his trade too well. The stragglers, the young lovers, would soon begin to depart two by two in the darkness and his cab would be there, discreetly awaiting them. He didn't hear the pair as they entered his cab, but the experienced driver grunted as he heard the two knocks, signaling him to take them down the darkest of the paths past the Kennedy Estate.

The cabby did not like this road for it took him past the old, forgotten areas of Inverness and a thick fog had begun to set in, adding an otherworldly aura to the already eerie night. His charges were quiet, silent he could have sworn. Must be doing something other than talking, Tobey thought to himself with a grizzled old smile. But his heart froze as he saw in the mist ahead the old Kennedy cemetery, hoping to urge his horse faster past it.

"You're cold," Kennedy observed, pulling her petite form closer to him.

"It's nothing," she smiled, "only a chill. I've had it all evening." Valiantly, he removed his uniform jacket and wrapped it lovingly about her shoulders, kissing her upon the nose as they both grinned.

Suddenly, his body went rigid. He looked at her, his face more pale and gaunt than she had remembered. "I must go," he said abruptly and, with that, threw himself from the carriage and ran off into the night. The horse reared, causing the carriage to stop so Lexie could exit more easily as she ran after him, calling for him to stop. Once the cabby had settled his horse, he looked around to see the vehicle empty and a small, wan figure disappearing into the fog. Madness, he thought, whistling through his teeth and trying to call the figure back. But it paid him no heed and, anxious to keep moving, he spurred his animal on and was off.

"Lieutenant, wait, please!" Lexie cried into the night, stumbling through the mist as it obscured her view of her lover. "Come back, please," she pleaded, tripping over a low stonewall and realizing she was no longer on the road. She thought she caught a glimpse of Archie and ran in that direction only to once again bump into a stone obstacle. She gazed down in horror as she recognized the object to be an ancient moss covered tombstone. Slowly she became aware that others surrounded her like silent stone watchmen. A cemetery, she was in a cemetery.

Another moment and she thought she spotted her Lieutenant again but when she reached the spot where he had been calmly standing, regarding her with glassy eyes, all she saw was a thick almost familiar haze hovering over a tombstone. It was gone in an instant. Her blood running cold, she knelt by the tombstone and, brushing away a few errant leaves, read the name upon the stone slab:

A single, blooming rose lay upon the deadened grass plot before it. And suddenly, sobbing, she knew the truth and ran off into the chill darkness of the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Next Morning

Liza walked, the delicacy of the decayed leaves that carpeted the ground breaking and crunching beneath the step of her boots, with her head hung into the small, quaint churchyard, Deirdre and her Papa in tow. Silently, they walked to the grave and one by one lay their flowers upon it. "I did not see the Gleneagles ghostie last night," Deirdre said softly. "Do you suppose she was about last night?"

"Hush," scolded Papa, sounding just like Liza with his sanctimonious tone, "I've told you, it is wicked to speak of such things." For it was five years ago last night that Alexandra Felicia Leigh-Evans had lost herself in the mist and had mistakenly gotten in the way of the family carriage, having been trampled to death by their own horses.

"What's this?" Liza asked, retrieving an object from the ground which as she took it in hand recognized it as a neatly folded woolen coat, the dress jacket from a navy uniform. Sweet scented rose petals tricked out of it like the autumn leaves falling to the ground. She turned, confused, to their Papa. "What do you suppose it means?" she asked.

"Perhaps that there is someone else out there looking after her," the handsome middle-aged man replied with a sad smile. "Come now, your mother will be waiting inside for us, tomorrow is All Souls and I suspect she will be lighting a candle for our lost Lexie."

Journeys end in lovers meeting. They left and the autumn waltz continued, spirits dancing in clouds of dreams in the air. And when the dance was done, all would be to dust again.

The End