Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie's Curse
Page 8
The sorcerer gasped and froze atop Gryff, his knife held high.
“Now, command him!” Tuft ordered.
“You belong in that barrow, Grindan. You and no other! Now take your place . . . and go to hell!”
Rowancourt’s head dropped back. His mouth opened. A horrendous rumble came from out of him. The knife dropped. His fingers, where they reached toward the sky, turned black, then melted to ash. In an instant he was crumbling, from his finger downward—and the ash was rising up and riding a swirl into the barrow. When the last of it disappeared inside, a crash sounded like a gong—and at the same moment the iron cage disappeared—and she felt the last of the hold on her legs drain away.
“Gryff? Gryff?” She crawled over to him and kissed his forehead, his nose, and his neck. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He sat up, then groaned and grabbed his shoulder.
“Oh, good heavens, you’re bleeding! He got you.”
“I think the knife got me, when it fell,” he grumbled.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, feeling more than slightly hysterical.
He drew back, indignant, and then groaned again. “Are you laughing? You think it’s funny?”
“No.” She pressed her lips together. “Of course not!”
“No?” Tuft stood beside them with a grin. “Well, I do!”
And he threw back his head and laughed.
Chapter 8
The castle corridors were empty. Everyone had gathered for the reading of the will. Tamsyn lingered behind, waiting until her mother’s attention had shifted, then she slipped away and snuck out into the gardens.
It was a glorious, sunny day and Gryff waited for her by the rose garden. They took the long way around the castle again, talking and laughing, hearts beating in anticipation as they aimed for the cliffs.
Just before they started to climb, Tuft stepped out of nowhere.
“Oh!” She stopped. “Good day, Tuft.” She hadn’t seen him since they’d collected her poor, dazed father and come home to Keyvnor. She’d wondered, in fact, if she’d ever see him again.
The old pixie inclined his head. “Good day. I’d hoped for a word.”
“Of course.” Gryff indicated a nearby pile of rough granite and they all perched, settling comfortably.
“You did well,” Tuft told her, and Tamsyn flushed.
“We all did well, I think.”
“I was beginning to fear we’d never get the best of that wicked boy,” the pixie sighed. “But I suppose we were waiting for you.”
“I . . . Well, I’m glad I could help.”
“Now, we owe you, and I can tell you, it’s like an itch I can’t scratch, to be owing a human. So I thought perhaps we could settle the debt.”
She’d actually given this some thought.
“I was wondering if you’d like me to call back my gift, and leave you in peace, without the Sight to disturb you.”
“Actually, I had a different idea,” she said with a raised brow. “I wonder if you would hear me out?”
He crossed his arms. “Go ahead.”
She explained and he gave her a warm look of approval. “Agreed,” he said simply. He stood. “Paul,” he called.
The ghostly boy appeared before them. “That’s a surprise,” he said, nodding to them all. “You don’t usually leave the wild places, Tuft.”
“The girl has no further need of her gift. She’s passing it to you.”
“To me? But I don’t need—”
“She’s asked that I make it so that your poor mother will see you—and be comforted by your presence. So you can spend some quiet time together of an evening, and her tortured mind will rest easier.”
“Oh,” he breathed.
“Will you accept this gift?”
“Yes.” He turned to Tamsyn. “Thank you!”
“Then so it is.”
And just like that, both of them were gone.
“Well.” Gryff said. “That set me down a peg or two.”
She stood up and whirled about, stopping before him. “What? Why? What do you mean?”
“I had a surprise planned for you, but I’m not sure I can measure up to what just happened.”
She threw herself in his arms. “Oh, I’m sure you can. And if not, we could have quite a bit of fun trying.”
He laughed and they continued on. They were nearly to the top when she saw what he’d done—and she gasped in delight.
“How long have you been working at this?” Her hands were clasped at her bosom in delight.
“A day or so,” he confessed.
“I love it,” she breathed.
“I love you,” he answered. “I want to show you.”
He led her over and she marveled at the rough shelter, its back one of the rocky protuberances scattered over the cliff tops, its sides constructed of branches, leaves and tough sea grasses, and its front opened to the sight and sound of the sun on the water and the pounding of the surf below.
“Come and see.”
She did, surprised to see tiny ribbons and flowers entwined with the foliage.
“How beautiful,” she whispered.
He looked sheepish. “I confess, that bit was not me.”
“Who, then? Does someone else know about this?” she found that more than a bit alarming.
“The pixies do, I gather.”
“Oh, how lovely.”
He led her around to the front and she saw blankets spread out and wine cooling in a rough bucket and a huge picnic basket waiting in the shade.
He took her hand and kissed it, then he reached for the other and held them both as he gazed at her, his expression tender.
“The longer I worked on this, the more enamored of it I became,” he told her. “Look around, Tamsyn. This place, it is us. Me, you, the wind and the sky and the richness of the earth. A veneer of civilization, a touch of magic and an abundance of love.”
She sighed, so deeply touched, and blinked away tears.
“It’s everything I’d like us to be. Will you join with me, Tamsyn? Marry me and turn this perfect day into a lifetime?”
She threw herself at him again, reveling in the height and breadth of him, in the strength of his arms and the beauty of his soul.
“Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.”
His expression was solemn as he laid her back on the blankets. The heft and weight of the moment felt as vast, as important and satisfying as his bulk pressing her to the earth.
She helped him remove his coat and kissed his bandaged shoulder, and then buried her fingers in his sun-warmed hair. He worshiped her and she accepted it as her due—and gave him the same in exchange. And when he eased her back and his shoulders blocked the sky, she moved her legs, opening wide and welcoming him home.
Their gazes held as he moved inside of her, strong and sure.
“You are mine,” he whispered. “As I am yours. We are one now, as witnessed by the land and the sea.”
“Yes,” she answered. “Yes.”
As one they stretched, boundless, enduring. She gloried as his body held hers, drove into her, filled her like wind in sails and they ranged high and voyaged far, riding the waves of pleasure into their new life—together.
They dressed afterward, and sat entangled while they watched the tide race out below.
“It’s this moment,” she said softly. “Mother will insist on a betrothal ball, now that she’s finally come around. There will be the wedding and a breakfast, but in my heart I’m wedded to you from this moment.”
He kissed her fingers. “I feel the same.”
She let the peace and the strong beat of his heart lull her for a bit, and when she opened her eyes he was regarding her quite seriously.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I was thinking of Tuft and of that laugh and how it saved us—but how it cost us too. What would it have been like, to have been close to you all of these eight years? For you know, I would have kissed you
that day in the forest, and I would have waited for you.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Would I have traveled to Truro, danced with you at assemblies, invited you to tea to meet my mother? I feel as if I have a hundred things to show you and tell you and so much to make up for.”
She sighed. “But I think I shall love you more, for the not having you. I am glad it’s over, though,” she confessed. Sighing, she kissed him. “We have all of our days to make up for what we missed—and I intend to enjoy myself mightily in the doing of it.”
He laughed. “As do I.”
And so they did.
The Earl of Banfield’s Last Will & Testament
In the Name of God, Amen, I, Jonathan Hambly, Earl of Banfield, of Bocka Morrow in the County of Cornwall, resident of Castle Keyvnor, on this 11th day of August, 1811, being of weak body but of sound mind hereby declare this to be my last Will and Testament.
Gentlemen, first I will that all my just debts and funeral expenses shall be paid by my Trustees and Executors hereinafter named.
I charge my second cousin Allan Hambly, with the care of my wife, Evelyn DeLisle Hambly, shall she survive me. Allan Hambly shall see to her care and comfort within Castle Keyvnor for the remainder of her days. Allan Hambly shall continue to employ the servants who currently serve and see to her care and comfort.
I give and bequeath to my second cousin Allan Hambly the sum of twenty thousand pounds of Lawful money of Great Britain, the same sum my wife brought to the marriage, for her care, comfort and for wages of the servants tasked with her care.
I give and bequeath to my sister Octavia North Barrows the cameo that belonged to our mother.
I give and bequeath to Daniel Goodenham, Viscount North Barrows, the sum of one thousand pounds of Lawful money of Great Britain.
I give and bequeath to my nephew Peter Priske, Earl of Widcombe, my 1721 edition of The Works of Geoffrey Chauceras.
I give and bequeath to my niece Gwnedolyn Beck, Marchioness of Halesworth, the blue and gold porcelain tea service.
I give and bequeath to Blade Hambly, controlling interests in two cooper mines and my collection of papers by astronomers William Wolleston, William Herschel, Pierre Simon Laplace and John Goodricke.
I give and bequeath to Lucien De Roye, my holdings of stock in the East India Dock Company.
I give and bequeath to Clive DeLisle, the red, orange, blue, green, gold and silver monstrosity of a vase.
I give and bequeath to Christopher Deering, Marquess of Brauning, my marbled clay pipe.
I give and bequeath to Jane Hawkins, the Kirkbourne estate.
I give and bequeath to Viscount Sutton, my 1725 edition of Homer’s Odyssey.
I give and bequeath to Baron Dinedor, ten thousand pounds of Lawful money of Great Britain.
I give and bequeath to Mr. Gryffyn Cardew, the parcel of Lancarrow land as laid out in the original sale.
I give and bequeath to Adam Vail, the land currently occupied by the Boswell gypsies.
I give and bequeath to St. David’s Church in the village of Bocka Morrow, two thousand pounds of Lawful money of Great Britain, for their roofing fund.
I give and bequeath to my servant and valet, Mr. Simpkins if he lives with me at the time of my Death all my wearing apparel and one years wages above what may be due to him at my Decease.
Likewise I give to my servants, Mrs. Bray, Mr. Drake, Mrs. Woodead and Mr. Morris, if they live with me at the time of my Death, one years wages above what may be due them at my Decease.
All the residue of my personal Estates of what nature or kind whatsowever and wheresoever I give to Allan Hambly and I Hereby Charge both my Real and personal Estates with the payment of my Just Debts and Legacies.
Lastly, I nominate and appoint Allan Hambly as Sole Executor of this my Last Will and Testament revoking all other wills made by me.
In Witness whereof I, the said, Jonathan Hambly, Earl of Banfield, to this my Last Will and Testament have set my Hand and Seal this 11th Day of August in the year of our Lord one Thousand Eight Hundred and Eleven.
About Deb Marlowe
USA Today Bestselling author Deb Marlowe adores History, England and Men in Boots. Clearly she was destined to write Regency Historical Romance.
A Golden Heart Award winner and Rita nominee, Deb grew up in Pennsylvania with her nose in a book. Luckily, she'd read enough romances to recognize the true modern hero she met at a college Halloween party--even though he wore a tuxedo t-shirt instead of breeches and boots. They married, settled in North Carolina and produced two handsome, intelligent and genuinely amusing boys. Though she spends much of her time with her nose in her laptop, for the sake of her family she does occasionally abandon her inner world for the domestic adventure of laundry, dinner and carpool. Despite her sacrifice, not one of the men in her family is yet willing to don breeches or tall boots. She's working on it.
Thank you so much for reading Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie’s Curse. I hope you enjoyed it!
This book was originally released in Bedeviled, part of The Castle Keyvnore Collections. Check out all of the books!
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Also by Deb Marlowe
Don’t miss the the Half Moon House Series
The Novels
The Love List
The Leading Lady
and Coming Soon:
The Lady’s Legacy
The Novellas
An Unexpected Encounter
A Slight Miscalculation
Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness
A Waltz in the Park
Beyond a Reasonable Duke
Lady, It’s Cold Outside
The Earl’s Hired Bride
The Castle Keyvnor Collections
The Haunting of Castle Keyvnor
Vexed
Bedeviled
Mystified
Spellbound
Christmas at Castle Keyvnor
Charmed at Christmas
Enchanted at Christmas
Kissed at Christmas
Tempted at Christmas