"An unusual family," Reverend Whitling said to Mr. Charterham as he sat down to the breakfast Lisle served, "but then they say this house is haunted."
"Can't say I experienced anything."
"Me, neither. Do you think this Mrs. Cecilia Worthing will take residence here?" the reverend asked.
"She is married and settled in Dover, so I shouldn't think so. No doubt they will come visit once in a while. But I suspect this house will be mostly left to whatever ghosts roam here."
Whitling seemed to shudder at the statement and Lisle smiled as she bore the teapot away.
Anne ran her fingers over the wisps of the barley as she walked through the lush crop. The sun shone brightly and the warm breeze sang over the barley heads. There was a lovely, clean and fresh smell coming off the stalks.
“It is beautiful,” she said. The moors stretched as far as she could see, but she didn’t feel the desolation. This felt like hers now, and his. This was their world and they were completely safe and free.
Walking through the stalks to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and breathed in the scent of him. This was home; he was home. “You like it?” he said, looking down at her.
“I love it.”
Behind them, back at the house, Elizabeth and her brother were coming out the door, running down one side and away. Elizabeth had her skirts bundled in front of her as she ran. Just then, Elizabeth didn’t seem that old, more like the girl she looked like.
“Where are they going?”
“There is a stream over there,” he said, pointing in the distance. “On hot days, they like to swim in it.”
“Is there really?” Anne said brightly.
“Perhaps I will show you later.”
The idea of spending time with him in the bright, warm sun was infinitely appealing.
“But tonight,” he continued. “I think we should have a banquet in your honor, to truly welcome you to the house.”
“Will there be dancing?” she said, stepping away from him, lightly gripping the barley around her.
“Of course. And music. Thompson is rather gifted, if you would believe it. William can belt out a tune, too, if pressed.”
His face grew serious as he walked toward her again. “I don’t want you to regret this.”
“I don’t think I will.” She couldn’t stop touching him when he was near and ached to when he wasn’t. He occupied every single thought in her head with a headiness that made her woozy. A smile refused to budge from her lips, except now, when he was leaning down to kiss her. A slow, lingering kiss made her forget where she was.
“Well, I have done some questionable things in my life, and in my death, but I am not a scoundrel. I might not always have succeeded, but I have always tried to do right.” He turned to her, his hands gently stroking along her shoulders and down her arms. “That includes the woman I intend to share my world with. So, Anne Sands of London, as we have discussed on a few occasions, will you consent to being my bride?”
“As I recall, that was more of a threat,” she teased.
“I suppose that depends entirely on how you look at it.”
“And if I say no?”
Wrapping his fingers around hers, he drew her close, her chest pressed against his. “Then I think I must convince you. Although I would have to work quickly as there is a vicar in the house who will shortly be departing. It may not be impossible to get him to delay a night. I am sure Lisle could convince him to stay another night to console a distraught girl such as herself. He appears a tender-hearted man. The banquet tonight might as well be a wedding banquet.”
Anne twisted her head as if considering the proposal. “The poor man would be terrified.”
“He’ll assume it’s a dream.”
The idea of taking vows with this man was deeply exciting. She wanted them to belong together in every way. Surely vows were as beholding for spirits as they were for the living. It was perhaps the intent that mattered. It was for her anyway. She wanted to state her intentions for everyone to hear. This man belonged to her and she belonged to him.
“Then, Miss Anne Sands of London. Will you tonight be Mrs. Anne Hawke?”
“I’ll think about it,” she said with a laugh and slipped out of his grip. She didn’t get far before he caught her, lifting her up in his arms. The kiss showed he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
The End
Other books by Camille Oster
The Notorious Marquis of Wickerley –- With the king’s execution, madness has descended on England and Cecily Alderman’s father pushes forward the moment she’d been dreading for six years, her marriage to the most notorious libertine that ever graced the king’s court. Sent to the wilds of Cornwall, she has to face a man exiled from all society, chased by the uncertainty and dangers of a country ripping itself apart with war.
The contract to be the Marquis of Wickerley bride might be the worst injustice her father had ever visited on her, and dealing with this man who shows her no manners will prove an impossible task.
An Absent Wife - The desertion of Lord Lysander Warburton's wife had come as a complete surprise, even though he readily admitted that he'd never excelled as a husband. The death of the wife he'd ignored for close to a decade was a downright nuisance, making him further fodder for the gossips, and now a target for every designing matron in London.
In line with her consistent talent for being disagreeable, Lady Adele Warburton had run off with a lowly lieutenant, leaving safety and respectability behind, then died in a cholera epidemic in a far flung country.
In a last show of husbandly duty, Lysander decides to recover her effects, and grudgingly those of her lover, retracing the steps of the wife he'd barely known across half the world. But arriving in the mayhem of India, he finds that all is not as it should be. WARNING: Contains a non-consensual scene.
Sequence Effect - Gwennie Elders doesn't regret for a moment the debt she took on to extend her grandmother's life, but when running into trouble with repayments she had to resort to drastic actions to save her family's business and apartment. It would only be a year of her life and she'd be unconscious throughout--to awaken debt-free and able to resume her life as a baker on the city's ground level, hemmed in by the towers where the wealthy and privileged lived. But there are no easy and options, and although she emerges from her servitude debt-free, her family's business and her means of support fleeted away while she was asleep, forcing her to seek a means to support herself in the coming war.
Contacting the Author
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The Haunting at Hawke's Moor Page 22