by Lexi Post
Passion of Sleepy Hollow
Lexi Post
Recluse Braeden Van Brunt is not happy to be the Headless Horseman…until he meets Katrina Van Tassel, owner of the Sleepy Hollow Inn, whose allure bewitches him from the front desk into the bedroom. When he discovers Kat and the village of Sleepy Hollow are cursed to exist in the present day for only one weekend a year, he realizes the sacrifice he must make if he wants to keep her.
Katrina Van Tassel lives between slivers of time. She thought she was through grieving her betrothed’s death, but her dreams flare to life when his mirror image arrives, requesting a room. Drawn to Braeden, she’s taken to more erotic heights of intimacy than she ever imagined, but she can’t be sure if her heart is with him or the love from her past.
Knowing he must conquer both time and ghosts to keep the only woman he’s ever loved, Braeden must put the past to rest. But the dead may not rest in Sleepy Hollow.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
PASSION OF SLEEPY HOLLOW
Lexi Post
Acknowledgments
To Bob Fabich, my real-life hero and everyday champion. And for my sister Paige Wood for her tireless support and keen insights.
Donn Brous, thank you for delving into the Dutch side of our family. Your help was invaluable!
This story came to life under the sharp eyes of Marie Patrick, the detailed focus of Grace Bradley, and the support of Jill Marsal. What an awesome team!
Author’s Note
Passion of Sleepy Hollow was inspired by Washington Irving’s short story, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, published in 1820, featuring the famous schoolteacher Ichabod Crane. Despite his abject fear of the dark and obsession with ghost stories, Ichabod’s attraction to the beautiful Katrina Van Tassel drives him to trek to her father’s party where he discovers the bountiful farm Katrina is destined to inherit. Though well aware of “Brom Bones” and his long relationship with Katrina, Ichabod puts in his bid for her hand. After what appears to be a rejection, Ichabod leaves the party late at night only to be chased by the Headless Horseman, who throws his head at Ichabod. The next day Ichabod has disappeared with nothing but a smashed pumpkin left upon the trail. Irving suggests that Brom may know a bit more about the disappearance than he allows. In the end, Katrina accepts Brom’s proposal.
But what if Ichabod had the last laugh by initiating a curse upon the village of Sleepy Hollow and luring Brom away from Katrina forever?
The current town of Sleepy Hollow does indeed hold multiple Halloween events every year and many of the landmarks from the original story can be found there. However, the geographic description and events of the present day in Passion of Sleepy Hollow are fictional.
Chapter One
Present Day, Sleepy Hollow, NY
“Brom.” The tortured whisper escaped Katrina Van Tassel as she stared at the back of the man waiting by the reception counter of her inn.
He must have heard because he started to turn in her direction.
Panicking, she retreated two steps and swung around the corner of the hallway, plastering herself against the floral wallpaper. Her heart beat faster than the wings of the monarch butterflies of summer, and she folded her arms across her stomach as a chill filled her soul and tears blurred her sight.
It couldn’t be him. He was dead. Long dead. It was someone else, a Newtimer, that’s all. But his build was so exact that she didn’t want to see the front. What if he looked just like Brom? She would faint. Yes, she was sure she would. No, she wasn’t. She’d never fainted. Of course, there was always a first time.
Brom had been her first, her only, her intended.
Her gut twisted at the remembered pain of sitting on the church steps realizing something terrible had happened. That was long ago. Too long ago. She needed to get a hold of herself.
Ignoring her agitated pulse, she stepped away from the wall, tucked stray hair back into her braid and straightened her shoulders. This man was probably lost. That’s all. No reason to make a mountain out of a molehill. She brushed down the apron on her cotton dress.
The little bell on the counter rang again.
“Well, hold your horses,” she murmured under her breath as she strode around the corner to face her visitor. Her feet slowed of their own accord. The striking man with amber eyes and the build of the only man she ever loved tapped his long, blunt fingers on the counter. He looked so much like Brom, and yet not.
Irritation with herself and him brought her heart back on track. Stepping behind the counter, she nodded once, her lips refusing to smile her usual welcome. “How can I help you?”
“I need a room.”
She ignored his smooth baritone and the goose bumps it sent along her arms. “I don’t have one.”
He had the audacity to raise one eyebrow. “Really. I see three rooms right here.”
“That would be the parlor, the breakfast room and the kitchen.” She glanced down, searching for the stool she used when dusting, wishing she could step on it now to meet the man eye to eye. She settled for craning her neck and catching his gaze. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted a bedroom.”
His brows drew downward, giving him a menacing look, but he didn’t say a word.
She didn’t even blink. She hadn’t been running the Sleepy Hollow Inn by herself since her grandmother’s death because she backed down from a little conflict. Besides, staring at him was pure pleasure. Like her former betrothed, his face had all the right masculine angles from his straight nose to his shaded chin. His dark brows, lowered as they were, set off warm, amber eyes, and his short black hair gave him a good-boy look that Brom never had. The fact that this man was just as tall and broad as her only lover proved she still found that physique attractive. More than attractive, if the warmth suffusing her body was any indication.
The man’s mouth quirked to one side, causing her heart to stutter. His lopsided grin could melt ice. “I am looking for a bedroom.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “But I can sleep in the parlor if I have to.”
Oh Lord, he needed to stop being nice or she would be ready to give him the whole darn inn. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m full, but you can find a room in town or even try Tarrytown. That’s just down the road and they have a lot of inns.”
“No. I already checked. They’re full too. I didn’t know this festival thing was such a big deal.” He rubbed one side of his face with his large hand.
He had no calluses. Just another way in which he was different from Brom. She simply had to keep finding differences until he left, and he needed to leave soon. His continued presence was shattering her nerves. She pulled out her reservation book. “It’s always this busy. That’s why people book rooms so far in advance.” She turned the page. “If you like, I can check to see if I have a room available for the next festival.”
His hand came down hard next to hers, effectively covering all the names listed there. “I need a room tonight. Just tonight. I have to play at being this stupid Headless Horseman at midnight.”
She snapped her head up, her voice barely a whisper. “The Headless Horseman?”
At her undivided attention, he squirmed and glanced away. “Yeah. Stupid, I know. But my brother asked me and since he can’t do it, I promised him I would.”
Kat’s hand on her book gripped the pages into a crumpled mess as she croaked, “You’re Stephen’s brother?”
“Hey. Are you all right?” He covered her hand with his, its warmth relaxing the muscles between her fingers, as well as those around her heart. All she could do was shake her head.
He took her hand and kneaded it. “You aren’t going to faint on me or anything, are you?”
“Is
Stephen hurt? I know he loves being the Headless Horseman. He wouldn’t miss it. He’d move mountains to get here. Something must be terribly wrong.” She squeezed the man’s hand like she wrung out the laundry, but she couldn’t help it.
Stephen’s brother wouldn’t look at her, but his face had definitely closed off that conversation.
“What’s your name?”
“My name?” His gaze found hers again and his devastating smirk returned. “I’m Braeden Van Brunt, temporary Headless Horseman, only as you can see, I have my head.”
She dropped his hand. “Braeden Van Brunt?” Brom Van Brunt. “But you look nothing like your brother.” Not even slightly. Yes, his brother had dark hair and was tall as well, but that was where the resemblance ended. Stephen had a softer face, was small-boned and very thin. Even his eyes were hazel, which had made her think he was a distant cousin of her Brom. But Braeden, even in the loose garment he wore—
“Yeah, we get that a lot. He takes after our uncle and I take after our dad.” He stood straighter, his whole body stiffening. “Stephen had open heart surgery and asked me to fill in. I’m guessing no one will mind who rides tonight as long as there is a Headless Horseman.”
Kat’s mind tried to grasp Braeden’s words, but her heart beat too loudly for her to focus. Stephen’s heart? Kind, sweet Stephen’s heart was bad? His brother, Braeden, so like Brom. She didn’t want this. To feel like this again for him. No, not for him. For Brom. For—Argh. His baritone words finally penetrated her thoughts.
“I have to stay here. There isn’t enough time to find another place.” Braeden ran his hand through his hair again.
“Fine.” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“Fine?” His voice softened. “You’ll let me stay?”
She shook her head but refused to meet his gaze. “Wait here.” Without checking to be sure he remained, she spun on her heel and headed down the hall to her room. She needed to remove herself from his presence to find her brain again.
Once behind her closed bedroom door, she looked around. God in de Hemel, what was she doing? She had no rooms available. Her inn was filled with Oldtimers every festival because Newtimers simply couldn’t stay at the Sleepy Hollow Inn. But Braeden was the Headless Horseman. If she turned him out, the festival wouldn’t be complete. He had only asked for one night. One night shouldn’t hurt. As long as he didn’t want to stay Sunday night, it would be fine. After midnight Sunday the whole village disappeared. That secret could never be revealed to a Newtimer, or so it was said.
Kat glanced around her room, the only room not occupied—well, not by a guest. Worrying her bottom lip, she took a shrewd inventory. She could have the room made up in an hour.
Then what? How could she let a Newtimer, who reminded her so much of Brom, stay in her room? How could she let a descendant of Brom sleep in her bed?
How could she not?
Braeden leaned back against the check-in desk, his elbows resting on the wooden surface. The diminutive innkeeper was his biggest surprise of the day. At least a foot shorter than his six-foot-five frame, she had the curves of a larger woman packed into a concentrated package, easily assessed in her historical outfit. Her pale golden hair didn’t like to stay in the loose braid she wore and it teased her round blue eyes as they danced with her changing emotions. Too bad he couldn’t tell if he irritated her or attracted her, though he had a hunch it was the former. That in itself was strange. He couldn’t remember the last woman he irritated, not counting his mother. After high school he’d found his ridiculous muscles attracted women. He hadn’t minded that until he’d lost his best friend, or rather half of his best friend.
Why hadn’t his brother suggested he stay here? Because it was always full? He could sleep in his car tonight if he had to, but he’d be sore tomorrow. He hadn’t ridden a horse in over a year.
Braeden surveyed the tiny interior of the inn. He doubted it had more than eight bedrooms. The parlor had two settees and an armchair. The breakfast room, as she had called it, was only set for six. The entire building was like a dollhouse. He straightened. Maybe the beds were small too. He’d never fit anyway.
“Just great.” He glanced at his Rolex and tensed. It was already past nine. He wanted a shower before putting on the costume Stephen had designed. He still couldn’t believe he’d let Stephen talk him into this. If his brother hadn’t been in the hospital, he would never have caved. But seeing his brother sitting in bed wearing that crappy hospital gown with his wife and four kids all in the room with them, he couldn’t say no. He might not see his brother in person very often, but he’d do anything for him, even be the Headless Horseman for a night.
“I have made the arrangements.” The innkeeper’s voice had him turning as she strode up the hallway toward him, hips swaying with purpose in the full skirt of her dress. “You can have a room in one hour. If you want, you can go next door to the pub until then.”
Not likely. His bulk tended to challenge smaller men, especially when they were drunk, and the last thing he needed was a fight tonight. He glanced at the parlor as a possible place to wait, but when he looked back at his hostess, it was clear she wanted him out. Not wanting to push his luck, he nodded. “Great idea. I’ll be back in an hour, Miss…”
Silence greeted his polite inquiry. If she pursed her lips any tighter, they might just disappear altogether.
She glowered. “Do you want a room or not? Now go while I get it ready.”
He turned away before she caught him smiling at her. It wouldn’t do for her to see he found her interesting. She appeared immune to his physique, a breath of fresh air for him. That was at least one bright spot in his day.
Striding out the door without looking back, he walked by the building next door and glanced in the window. The bar was dimly lit, but even so, it was clear there were plenty of people inside. Ignoring the inviting feel of the place, he continued along the darkened dirt road.
He didn’t like having to be out among so many people. Luckily, not many strolled around the village. Most seemed to be at the other end of the road where tall lanterns shed light over stalls and tents. He should check in with the stable. His brother had told him where to retrieve the horse, but never said how much it would cost.
Braeden strode farther down the road until he spotted a wooden sign touting a horseshoe. Since his brother had been playing the Headless Horseman for years, the least the organizers could do was provide a horse free of charge, but since Stephen had a soft heart, Braeden doubted the man ever suggested it.
Stepping into the wide opening of the wooden stables, he stopped and took a deep breath. Despite his best intentions, the scent of hay and old wood had excitement growing in his chest. Anticipation built at the remembered feel of a horse beneath him. It had been too long.
“Do you need somethin’, sir?” A bulky man with a balding head and a large nose emerged from the shadows to the right of him. Some kind of suspenders held brown knickers up over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
Braeden turned and the man stopped, both hands out in front of him, shaking his head. “No, don’t come no closer. I be a good man.”
Braeden looked behind him to see what caused the man’s fear, but there was nothing. “What are you afraid of? There’s no one there.”
The man lowered his hands and stepped forward hesitantly, squinting. “Who are you?”
“I’m Braeden Van Brunt. My brother Stephen rides as the Headless Horseman?”
The man broke into a smile. “Ah yah, Stephen is a good man. You are his brother, huh?” He took a lantern off the hook and brought it closer, holding it high. “Hmm, I don’t see much ’semblance.”
“Yeah, I know. We look different. I understand I don’t have much time, so I thought I’d better make arrangements to pay for a horse to ride tonight.”
The man reached out his hand. “I’m Ludo Van Ripper and you don’t pay for the horse. You just ride it. You know how to ride
, yah?”
Braeden shook Ludo’s hand, the hard calluses on the palm telling him this was a hardworking soul. “Yes, I do.”
“Good. Come. You need to meet Daredevil.”
Braeden followed Ludo down a short row of stalls. The man lifted the lantern and pointed. “This here’s your mount.”
The huge black stallion lifted its head high before bringing it down in short bounces.
The blood sped through Braeden’s veins at the sight of the beauty walking toward him. The horse lifted its head over the stall door and sniffed him. Braeden didn’t blink. Now, this was a horse. Braeden stepped forward and lifted his hand slowly, so as not to spook the animal. When the horse nudged him with its nose, he stroked its neck.
“I’ll be a barn swallow’s baby, I never seen Daredevil take to no one like that except his master.”
Braeden continued to stroke the majestic beast, sensing its need to run. “We’ll be out soon, boy. Just a bit longer.” He gave the horse a final pat and turned to Ludo. “Didn’t my brother ride Daredevil?”
The older man shook his head. “Nah, he couldn’t get near him. He always rode Gunpowder.”
Braeden followed the man’s nod to see another black beauty across the way, but that horse stood at least a hand shorter and was smaller-boned than Daredevil. Daredevil took the opportunity to nudge Braeden’s shoulder. He grinned and gave the horse another stroke.
“Yah, that is the horse you need to ride tonight.” Ludo ambled away. “Yah, it’s a right match, it is.” His chuckle hung in the air and despite his loose cardigan, Braeden felt a chill.
Zipping up, he returned his attention to the horse. “We’ll have a great ride tonight, Daredevil. I promise.”
* * * * *
Kat examined her room one last time, her gaze resting on her armoire. Buried in the back of that piece of furniture was the wedding dress she’d worn on what was supposed to be her wedding day. Seeing Braeden reminded her she had yet to sew it into something else. It was such a waste of material to be sitting in there, but somehow, she just hadn’t done it. Closing the door to her room and straightening her back, she made her way to the kitchen. It was just one night. It couldn’t be wrong to help the village’s Headless Horseman so he could do his work, surely. The more she reassured herself, though, the more doubtful she grew.