by Ava Stone
“Are you certain you want to stay here?” he asked, his voice a low, gentle rumble that washed over her.
Tilly turned to Anna and Lila, who nodded their consent, then back to Sidney. “We are certain,” Tilly replied.
Sidney cast a glance at the other two, and then boldly and without warning, he pulled Tilly’s face toward him and planted a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right back. Promise me you won’t move from this bench.”
Tilly nodded, barely able to keep her wits about her. “We promise.”
And then he darted back down the corridor into the darkness, Lord Quentin on his heels. Tilly sat down slowly, taking her place between her sister and cousin again.
They were quiet for a moment, and then Lila said, “He is quite in love with you, I think.”
Tilly nodded again. “Yes,” she whispered. “And I with him.”
“Now what?” David asked after they had the vicar shackled to the wall and the iron cell locked. Luckily the man hadn’t woken through it all.
“How is your hand?” Anna asked.
“It’s fine,” he lied when truthfully his fingers throbbed. Who knew that burns could be this painful?
“He didn’t wake, did he?”
David turned to find Wolf, Lord Wolverly, coming down the stairs a bit hesitantly. Not that he blamed the man. The entire time they were carrying the vicar David had expected the man to wake and take of his and Garrick’s head.
“No, still out,” Garrick said.
“Let me tend to your hand,” Anna insisted.
David blew out a breath and looked down into her concerned eyes. “Very well.”
She turned and headed toward the stairs, and he followed, pausing only for a brief moment. “Someone is going to stay here, correct?” The last thing he wanted was the vicar, or Cynbel waking, alone in the dungeon. What if he got out before anyone could stop him? Of course, that could happen even if all of their friends were here.
“Someone will keep vigil,” Wolf assured him.
“Is he still out?” Chetwey demanded coming down the steps.
“Yes,” Anna blew out. “You aren’t cutting off his hand.”
“Not yet anyway.” Chetwey glared at the man. “I walked around the blasted castle seven times.”
Anna tilted her head and pursed her mouth as if not believing him. Though, why he went around the castle even once was beyond David’s understanding.
“I went around it two times. Grabbed an axe. Hit him over the head. Then went around five more times.”
“Perhaps you need to go around one more time to relieve some of that aggression.” Wolf laughed.
Chetwey glared at him. “My wife had a daughter.”
“That’s wonderful,” Anna said. David and Wolf quickly congratulated him, which only earned another glare from Chetwey.
“Brighid won’t let me in to see her, or my daughter because she’s afraid of him.” Chetwey pointed at the man still passed out in the cell before stepping closer to his friends. “She said if he was still unconscious, she’d let me in and close the protection behind me,” he whispered.
If it was Anna, David was certain he wouldn’t be standing down here explaining that to anyone. “Then why are you here?” David asked.
Chetwey jerked his head. “You’re right.” He rushed up the stairs only to come back down and thrust the axe at Wolf. “You might need this.” And then we was gone.
“What time was the babe born?” David called up.
“Midnight,” Chetwey answered right before the door closed to the dungeon.
David just shook his head. “I should have made the bet.”
Wolf laughed. “I’m glad you didn’t or my purse would be a little lighter right now.”
Anna stepped back from him, clearly irritated by the sharp look in her eyes and pursed mouth were any indication. “You bet on when Brighid’s child would be born?”
“He wagers on everything,” Wolf explained and David wished his friend would keep his mouth shut. Anna didn’t appear to approve of wagering.
“How much?” she demanded.
He was going to ask her to be his wife, if she was so against betting, maybe they wouldn’t get on as well as he thought.
Then again, did he really want to lose her to something so unimportant? He could give up betting.
Bloody hell! He was in love.
She fisted her hands and anchored them on her hips. “How much?”
“Five pounds.” He held his breath until her face relaxed. “That is all?”
“Well, with us,” Wolf offered. “If it were horses—“
David shot him a look to shut him up.
“I swear, I’ve never wagered more than I could afford to lose. In fact, I never even wager that much.”
Anna pursed her lips again and then relaxed. “It’s not as if it matters to me one way or the other.” She shrugged. “Let’s see to your hand while Lord Wolverly stands guard.”
Not matter one way or the other? Of course it mattered, which he would explain to her right this instant.
David reached out for her and stopped. Did he really wish to ask Anna to be his bride in the middle of the dungeon at Marisdùn? “Lead the way,” he said instead.
Why should she care if Mr. Thorn wagered a quid or a hundred pounds? It wasn’t any of her concern. He may have kissed her but that was all. She just hoped he didn’t just wish to see her but once a year, at the Samhain party. Last year was bad enough, this was worse, and she shuddered to think what next year might bring.
No matter. She met her David and that’s really all she had cared about for the past year. Now that he has a name, and she’d been able to sketch him again, she was just a certain she could dismiss him from her mind.
Unless, he posed for her.
Anna’s face heated and she pushed the thoughts away. Now was not the time to think about Mr. David Thorn posing for her, with or without clothing. He had burns on his fingers, Brighid just delivered her babe, and her uncle was possessed by the spirit of a man who died centuries ago.
She started for the herbarium as soon as she reached the top of the stairs, Mr. Thorn trailing behind her, not saying a word. When she reach the room where the medicinals were housed, then she remember she couldn’t get in. A babe’s cry was heard from the room within and Anne smiled to herself before facing the kitchen.
“Cook, where might the bandages and salves be kept, besides in the herbarium?”
“Right in that cabinet, Miss Anna.” She nodded toward the cupboard on the back wall.
After reading the various ointments, all penned with Brighid’s neat penmanship, she removed what she needed, as well as bandages. “Shall we go outside?”
“Please. I could use a breath of fresh air.”
“What is that stench, anyway?” she asked once they were no longer within earshot of the kitchen. She didn’t wish to insult anyone, even though the maids should have done something about it already.
“It arrived with the ring.”
Well, that explained why it reminded her of something rotten and decaying.
Anna led Mr. Thorn to the center of Brighid’s garden and sat down on a bench. “Your hand, Mr. Thorn.”
David studied Anna, who looked at him as if they were barely acquaintances, with her hand out, palm up. Had she reduced him to that of a leaf again? What happened? Was it because he gambled?
He took a seat, placing his injured hand in hers. The moment she touched him he forgot all about the pain and pulled her onto his lap.
Anna gasped. “Really Mr. Thorn,” she chastised.
“David.”
“Pardon?”
“David. I wish for you to call me by my given name.”
Her features softened. “David,” she breathed out as if it was the most wonderful name in the world.
Bracing her face between his palms, he pressed his lips to hers. They softened, opened and he delved. David knew he could kiss her all night and still not have kiss
ed her enough.
He pulled back for but a moment. “Marry me,” he said and kissed her again before she could answer. He wasn’t certain if it was because he was afraid Anna might say no, or that he just needed to kiss her again.
Anna pulled back, breaking the kiss and stared at him. “Pardon?”
At least it wasn’t a rejection, yet. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
He held his breath as she simply stared at him.
This was not going well at all. “I promise not to gamble again.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“I got the impression you don’t much approve of gambling, and if that is what has you concerned, I swear never to make a wager again.”
A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “I couldn’t care less about gambling.”
“Really?” A part of him relaxed, but she still hadn’t agreed.
“I want to say yes, but…”
David kissed her again before she could finish. He’d kiss her all night if that was what it took. He was not above befuddling her until she gave him the correct response.
“David,” she said against his mouth while pushing at his chest. Reluctantly he pulled his lips away from hers.
“I don’t know you,” she finally admitted.
“I’ve known you for a year,” he countered. “I’ve thought about you since I sat for your portrait, wishing I hadn’t gone off to get you punch, or wishing I would have been quicker about it.”
She smiled.
“Had Brighid given me even a hint of a name, I would have come and found you.”
This time she grinned. “Truly?”
“Yes, truly.” He leaned in to kiss her again. Why couldn’t he get enough of her?
Anna leaned away.
Blast!
“I’ve thought of you too. I kept your sketch with me always.” Her face was turning a lovely shade of pink.
“Dare I ask, did you sleep with it?” Oh, if it only could have been him instead of a bloody parchment in which his likeness had been drawn.
“That, you do not need to know.”
She didn’t have to answer. Her face was crimson in the moonlight.
“So, you see, we’ve known each other a full year. Many couples marry each other after having just met.”
“But you are to be an earl.” She bit her lower lip and looked away.
David didn’t understand. Usually that was something favorable in a future husband, but he was afraid Anna felt differently. “I hope it won’t be for some time.”
“Nobody can know that.”
In that she was correct. When he left to come here last year, his grandfather was healthy as could be, only to drop dead from a stroke the day after the party. “Why is it distressing that I will come into a title?”
“Freedom.” She sighed.
“As a countess, you’d have a good deal of freedom,” David pointed out. He could really see no down side to being a countess. His mother certainly enjoyed the privileges of her station.
“Does that include travel?”
“Of course.” There really wasn’t much else to do when he wasn’t sitting in Parliament. They possessed land and estate, but there wasn’t much to manage, other than the horses. David could only imagine wishing to be in England during the racing season. “Other than the fall or spring, we could go anywhere you wish.”
Anna’s eyes grew wide. “Truly?”
“Truly,” he said with a laugh. “Where do you wish to go?”
“Florence.” She sighed.
“Ah, the other David.” He pulled her close. “Should I be jealous?” He nibbled on the lobe of her ear.
“Certainly not if you keep doing that.” She giggled.
“If I promise to take you to Florence, and anywhere else you wish, will you marry me?”
This time her smile softened and moisture pooled in her eyes. “I would have said yes without the promise.” She flung her arms around his neck, making David Thorn the happiest man at Marisdùn tonight.
Anna scrambled off of David’s lap, happier than she could remember being since before her parents passed away. She was in love and her future husband would travel. It was more than she ever dared hope for.
“Where are you going?” he reached out for her.
“Your hand.” She grabbed his injured fingers and placed them on her lap as she reached for ointments. “I’m not about to let you get an infection that would make you ill or worse, now that you’re to be my husband.”
Husband! Oh, she so loved the sound of that.
His other hand came up to caress her cheek and Anna looked up, meeting his gaze.
“There is one thing I forgot to mention.”
Her heart stopped, afraid of what he might say.
“I love you Anna Southward.”
And then her heart actually it melted. She was certain of it. “I love you too.”
“Just as I would have given up gambling to have you.”
David leaned in and placed his lips against hers again. They were soft, gentle, coaxing, nothing like the heated ones of earlier, and the rest of her began to melt.
“Did you know Kilworth is dead in the blue parlor?”
Anna jerked back to find Lord Patrick Delaney and his wife, Laura, walking toward them.
“Did you know that you now have a niece?” Thorn responded.
Laura beamed since Lord Chetwey was her older brother. Anna hadn’t known her well when she lived at Torrington Abbey, but well enough that they were on a first name basis.
“That’s wonderful,” she cried. “Can I see her?”
“Not exactly.” Anna grimaced.
The smiles fell from Lord Patrick and Laura. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Brighid and the babe are fine,” Anna rushed to assure them. At least, she assumed they were. Chetwey hadn’t said anything other than Brighid wouldn’t let him in unless her uncle was still unconscious, and she did hear the babe cry. She sounded very healthy to her.
“Then why can’t I see my niece?” Laura asked.
Anna looked at Thorn. They both knew that Braden and Quent would rather nobody know what was really happening, but Patrick had been a ghost himself once, with Laura being the only person who could see him, so if anyone was going to believe what had happened to her uncle, and not say anything, it was these two.
“You never did tell me what Brighid said we could do to fix the situation either,” David finally said.
Apparently he’d reached the same conclusion as Anna—that Patrick and Laura needed to be told. Besides, having been a ghost himself, maybe Patrick had insight, not that she expected it, but one could always hope.
“Why don’t the two of you have a seat while I bandage David’s hand and we’ll explain everything,”
The two moved forward to sit on the opposite bench.
“What happened to your hand, Thorn?” Lord Patrick asked.
“That is part of the explanation,” he ground out before Anna began telling them what Brighid had told her.
What a sight that was. An unconscious Vicar Southward strung up against the dungeon wall like a slab of meat at a butcher shop, Garrick pulling on the man’s hand while Thorn supervised from the side, and the three Miss Southwards looked on from the corner. He glanced at Lila and wished there was some way to save his angel from having to endure this evening. His angel. He still wasn’t even sure how that was possible.
“I know it sounds impossible,” Garrick began, breaking Quent from his thoughts, “but it’s like the ring is part of him. Like they’ve been fused together.”
Quent scrubbed a hand down his face, wishing this awful night was over. “Nothing sounds impossible these days.” His gaze flicked back to Lila and he heaved a sigh. Who knew how long it would be before things were set to right?
“How is Sir Cyrus?” Mr. Garrick asked.
Irritating as ever, but Quent held his tongue on that subject with the ladies present.
The puffed-up magistrate had never liked him. “Fairly certain if my brother wasn’t married to his sister, he’d have brought me up on charges of some kind. I suppose it was helpful that Hope found Kilworth’s body instead of me, though not for Hope. Braden has vowed not to let her leave his or Callie’s sight until they leave Ravenglass.”
“Anna,” Thorn began, “tell him what Brighid said about the ring.”
Anna Southward sat a little taller and met Quent’s gaze. “Brighid said the ring is evil.”
“Sorted that one out for myself,” he muttered.
“It belonged, apparently, to Rufus Flavius and was stained with the final life blood of Cynbel the Celt. And Cynbel has been part of the ring ever since.”
The final life blood? What a cheerful thought.
“After being tortured, after witnessing the death of his wife and children,” Anna continued, “all of Cynbel’s goodness had been stripped from him. All that was left of him in those final, awful moments was agony, despair and hatred. And that’s what the ring is.”
“Well, that’s perfectly horrifying.” Quent leaned against the cell door.
“Oh, it gets better,” Garrick said, blowing out a breath and raking a hand through his hair. “The ring cannot be destroyed, even if we’re successful in getting the damned thing off the vicar.”
Anna shook her head. “The Druids tried to do so, but they were unsuccessful. It can only be hidden, unfortunately.”
“Hidden in a priest hole until some unsuspecting fellows stumble upon it?” Damned thing should have been marked Pandora’s Box.
“Someone must have thought it was sacred ground,” Lila said, and Quent’s gaze drifted back to her. He couldn’t help looking at her. So beautiful, so perfect, but then angels were, weren’t they?
“We still have that jewelry box, right, Quent?” Thorn asked, drawing his attention back to his friend. “Apparently it needs to be returned to that box and blessed by a Druid priest.”
“Because there are so many of those hanging about in the year of our lord 1816?” A mirthless laugh escaped him.