Accursed Abbey: A Steamy Regency Gothic Romance (Nobles & Necromancy Book 1)

by Tessa Candle

  Tonner could not hear them in the howling storm. He had not seen or heard the door crash open and his passengers fly out. His scarf and hat were plastered to him, and he leaned forward to peer through the blinding hail at the perilous road ahead. But the carriage moved so slowly that they might catch up to it.

  Hope glimmered in Elizabeth's heart, until she heard the sound of hooves clopping behind them. It was as if the same force that pulled her out of the carriage now clapped itself over the little ember in her heart, smothering it into a smoky oblivion of despair. She ran on, but it felt as though she proceeded through a snow bank.

  “I am so sorry, Mill!” she cried. Her tears were invisible in the deluge around her. “I am so sorry that I ruined your chances for happiness, that I dragged you into this curse!”

  “Do not think about that, my love. None of this is your fault. Only hurry now. We can make the carriage!”

  He was so good and brave and true. She loved him so, and if she did not let go of him, he would perish with her. “No, my love! You go on. Leave me. Go and be happy.” She tore her hand from his and turned to run to her fate. It was the only way to save him.

  “Elizabeth come!” He grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

  Shivers crawled all over her body. She could see the black carriage approaching them, slowed to the pace of a hearse, but persisting inevitably like that bearer of death. They would both be lost, and it was because of her. “It is all my fault!”

  “No!” Mill's voice was almost a howl. He spun her around to look at him, water streaming over his face. It was still breathtakingly handsome, even when distorted with anguish. “Elizabeth listen! If we must perish here, at least we do so together. But I shall not live without you. And I shall not let you go on blaming yourself. It was my father who cursed me. And it was my father who made a contract with that devil to drive your father mad. Do you hear me? I was too much of a coward to tell you before, but my family cursed yours. My father was the enemy your mother spoke of. You are blameless!”

  She did not quite know how to process his words, though she understood him. It tore her heart to see the grief in his eyes, the pleading look, as though he sought her forgiveness. She squeezed his hand. “I love you." It was all she could say.

  The vehicle was upon them. She could smell the sweat of the horses and almost feel their breath upon her neck, as Mill crushed her to him and kissed her with such passion that she forgot her anguish and her fear. She was suspended in that moment, whisked away from the storm and warmed in a sunbeam of sublime happiness, scented with wet hair, leather and bergamot, and tasting of salt and honey.

  The moment passed and they turned together, determined to meet bravely the coming cataclysm of churning black hooves. They both gasped in surprise at the scene before them.

  The horses were capering back and forth in the road, as Silverloo nipped and barked at them, dancing deftly out of their way. Lenore was running toward the fray, calling to the little dog, mindless of her own wellbeing.

  Then something happened that made Elizabeth shake her head, hoping to clear her vision of the illusion before her. The horses were gradually becoming insubstantial, not horses at all, but billowing clouds of smoke. And then they became not billowing clouds, but a dissipating puff of shadow, insufficient to the task of pulling the carriage or holding it on course.

  A grimace of horrible rage contorted Orefados' face as the horseless carriage careened past, and he stared back at them. The vehicle missed them by mere inches, and Silverloo only just dashed out of the way of its wheels.

  A great bolt of lightning illuminated the sky and displayed in full light the transition in the magician's features from rage to terror. His gaze, as ever, though trained upon his would-be victims, apparently focussed on some spot just behind them. And that location held within it a horror that reflected in his gaze, a rippling mirage of the realm he was about to enter. He raised a hand in a single, reflexive flinch against whatever he saw in that otherworldly gloom, just before the carriage plummeted over the cliff, carrying the magician with it into the eternal abyss.

  Mill scooped up Silverloo and, handing him to Elizabeth, gathered her and Lenore into a great embrace. All three wept.

  Chapter 65

  The storm abated mere minutes after their persecutor expired. But they did not catch up to the carriage until they arrived at the inn with blistered feet and soaked clothing. Tonner was shaking and pale as they approached. He was looking inside the open doors of the carriage, then closing and opening them, over and over again, as though it were a magic trick, and they all might reappear.

  Canterbourne chuckled to himself. The poor man. He had not had quite as hellish a time of it as Canterbourne had, but driving through that storm up top must have added about ten years worth of grey hairs to his head.

  Finally the troubled man turned from the vehicle, resolved to do what, they did not discover. He spotted them and ran to Canterbourne, exclaiming, “My lord! Oh thank the heavens! I thought I had lost you!”

  “You did, in fact, lose me, Tonner. You lost all three of us and the dog in the bargain. Moreover, we chased you and called out after you, but you did not heed our cries. I suppose you thought you were better off rid of us.” Canterbourne's great relief at being free of Orefados sought out expression in sporting with poor Tonner's sense of guilt.

  “No indeed, my lord!” Tonner looked mortified, not fearful of consequence, but as though he could not bear the thought that his master should believe such a thing.

  Elizabeth smiled kindly and came to the man's aid. “Lord Canterbourne does not believe anything of the sort, Tonner. He knows very well that you could not have heard a cannon in that tempest and were very bravely discharging your duty to drive as best you could in blinding weather.”

  The man thanked her, but still looked apprehensively at Canterbourne, who sighed. “Very well, as my wife has ruined my sport, let us go inside. We have all taken a beating in the storm—you worst of all, Tonner. Let us go get warm and dry, and bespeak something good to eat and extra brandy for you, my faithful coachman.”

  When they had recovered their nerves and restored their constitutions with such victuals as were the best the inn could provide, they all retired to their chambers.

  Elizabeth was bewitching. The look of hidden knowledge that had sprung up on her features of late had mellowed, entwining its wild vines with the native innocence of her bouncing curls, sprouting its shoots among the playful spray of freckles upon her creamy skin, and blossoming in the pink petals of her cheek, becoming just ever so slightly more crimson. And the whole effect was distilled within the sparkling blue depths of her eyes, which now appeared to him fractionally, almost imperceptibly, deeper and wiser.

  She had become delightfully faie, and he could not resist the latent allure, the promise of natural enchantment. He assisted her to remove her dress and kissed her shoulder blade. “You have never looked more lovely, my dearest, most precious Elizabeth.”

  Her smile was pert. “You mean dressed in a ready-made work dress, with bedraggled hair and weather-beaten skin? I can well imagine.”

  He removed the last of her underclothing and drew her in for a long kiss, then stroked her naked back. “Your hair is free and flowing like a fairy princess', and your skin is glistening, radiant with exercise and, dare I hope it, ardour for your husband?”

  She lifted a brow. “You do dare hope it, as you are quite aware, conceited man!”

  In reply he pulled her into a powerful embrace, pushing his tongue into her mouth to explore her, know her, stake claim as far into her as physical restraints would allow. When he emerged he was panting. He could see the colour rising in her cheeks.

  He reached to stroke the down of her silky mound. She only made a shallow demi-gasp, as though her breath had left her. He enjoyed himself, then, watching her eyes glaze over and her spine curve in sweet craving accommodation as he teased her with his finger, working into a rhythm until she began to moan.
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  She reached out and pressed a hand against his hot, swollen member, imperfectly hidden beneath the fabric of his pantaloons. He drew in a ragged breath and his cock strained to escape.

  “Take these off, Mill,” she whispered.

  He continued to stroke her pearl as he unfastened his clothing with the other hand. She assisted him with an impassioned urgency that made him grow harder until he thought he could no longer stand it.

  By the time his body was freed, he was quite wild. His vision blurred and when she reached out and stroked him again, he lost all control. Lifting her up above him, he mounted her on his cock as she wrapped her legs around him.

  She gasped and moaned as he pumped her a few times in midair, before leaning her against the wall to give himself more control. He fucked her frantically then, but checked himself and slowed his pace into slower, harder thrusts, each one eliciting a low groan of pleasure from Elizabeth.

  Her head rolled to the side, and she dug her nails into his buttocks, straining to get him deeper and deeper inside of her. This almost pushed him over the threshold, but he steadied himself, watching her eyes dilate. The power she yielded to him almost drove him mad.

  When she began to scream with pleasure, he let go and drove her hard and fast, until at last his mind melted into her and was carried away in the sweet flood of warm wetness in her quim. He moaned as he spread his seed inside her, wave after wave of pleasure joining them. They both hung suspended for a few timeless heartbeats in the garden of love's mystery. Then they collapsed, exhausted on the floor.

  Tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he kissed her hair and held her. “My God... I love you unto madness,” he whispered into her curls.

  “And I love you.” She gave a little wicked snicker. “Even if you are already quite as mad as a hatter.”

  His heart filled. She was adorable, insolent, sweet, sultry, passionate, maddeningly alluring. And she was his now—all his.

  A little later she sat up and spoke the words he was dreading and at the same time wishing to at last hear spoken. “You never told me that it was your father that conspired with Orefados against my family. How long have you known?”

  “You say that so calmly. Can it be true that your beautiful heart is so perfect that it does not bear me any grudge for my descent from such a man?”

  “I will answer your question after you answer mine. How long have you known? Did you know that first moment, when we met at the inn? Did you know who I was?”

  “No, of course not.” His stomach clenched. How could she even think it? And yet, this was essentially what Giuseppe had warned him would happen. If he hid the truth from his wife, it would be the beginning of mistrust between them. “I have been such a fool.”

  He paused, shaking his head, then took her hand and kissed it. “I should have told you all. I did not learn of the connection between our fathers until Giuseppe revealed what he had learned about it from Martinus.”

  Canterbourne then recounted what he knew of the sad tale to her, watching her jaw clench and her eyes turn to hard, glittering sapphires, then soften and fill with tears. His heart staggered with the pain of seeing her plunged again into the agony of remembering the senseless loss of her parents.

  “And that is all,” he concluded. “I have no more secrets from you, and I deeply regret having concealed this story. But, my love, can you not understand why I was tempted to this concealment?”

  “I suppose I can.”

  “And can you ever forgive me for it, and for being the son of your father's tormentor?”

  He stared in wonder at the profound grace that radiated from her eyes as she said, “I forgive you for your secrecy. And as for your birth, there is nothing to forgive. I cannot wish you other than you are, for I love you so deeply.”

  He grasped her hand. “For your sake, I could wish myself other than I am.”

  “Do not wish it.” She shook her head and smiled sadly at him, the full force of her wisdom shining within her gaze. “If you were other than you are, we should never have met. And if by chance we should have met, perhaps we would never have fallen in love. Do you not see that our bitter past, our mad fathers, our loss and our expulsion to the horrid little realm of Melonia are all the things that connected us in place and in feeling? I mourn both our losses, but I cannot wish you to be otherwise, for you are perfect and I love you. And I found you because of your birth.”

  He crushed her in his arms and kissed her again and again. “Good, kind, angelic heart! You are my soul! How can I but treasure you?”

  She emerged a little breathless from his overzealous embrace. “Do you know, I think that dream really was a message from my mother. I understand her words now, about the father's sour grapes putting the children's teeth on edge. She said it should be no more this way. It was her way of blessing us, I think.”

  “Then my conversion is complete.” Canterbourne was quite in earnest, though he could not prevent a playful twist of the lips. “I now believe in magic, and in ghosts.”

  She smiled. “Perhaps your feelings will be mollified if we call it a vision, rather than a ghost.”

  He sighed theatrically. “It will not help. I am beyond any claim to being a reasonable man, for I now believe in the greatest of all affronts against rationality, namely happy endings. Good can be wrought from evil. Only look how our love has brought all to right. If this is not magical thinking, I know not what is. And yet, God preserve me, I believe it.”

  “Then, if we are to become doddering, gullible slaves to mystics and palm readers and every other magnet for misplaced credulity, at least we shall be so together. Then we shall not mind so much being fools. For if misery loves company, surely weak-mindedness adores an accomplice.”

  “Yes.” He teased her nipple. “Fools in love, forever.”

  Chapter 66

  Elizabeth played with the chimes that hung in the south parlour window of the Canterbourne manor, idly enjoying the flash of their metal in the sunlight and the delicate ringing song they produced. Within a month she had settled into her new life at Oakenridge Hall.

  At first it had been almost more of a culture shock than the move to Melonia had been. It was not because of the place, which was lovely, but because in her quiet moments she had time for reflection. She had to inure herself to the changes that the recent turmoil had wrought within her.

  But she had finally become sufficiently accustomed to quiet walks with Mill, Silverloo and Lenore, that she could stop looking over her shoulder to see if danger lurked nearby. The restiveness had gradually subsided, and she began to trust in her own happiness.

  Elizabeth smiled as she slung a shawl around her shoulders and anticipated a walk with the husband that she treasured above all other people.

  Mill entered the parlour and took her arm. “Your godparents are safely tucked into their carriage and on their way home.”

  “I am glad of it. Although I enjoyed the visit, I am looking forward to settling down into our own little private domestic bliss.”

  “As am I.” He gave her a rakish smile, but tenderly tucked her arm under his and led her out for their regular walk in the grove of trees around their home. Silverloo ran happily on ahead of them.

  “I think they have finally decided that they approve of me,” he mused.

  Elizabeth stroked his cheek. “All it took for them to love you was a little acquaintance. No one can long resist your charms.”

  “Sweet as it is of you to say, I believe what was principally required was their being satisfied that I was not a libertine adventurer who had abducted their niece.”

  “Deceived, in other words.” She laughed. “But I suppose our heavily edited account of the events leading up to our sudden return to England could not help but invite some scepticism. They no doubt thought that we were merely another young couple bent on eloping.”

  “I believe our having the second wedding in their local parish church where you were baptised must have helped.”


  “I doubt they could ignore your title, either.” She chuckled wickedly. “Once they verified it.”

  “Yes, in the final accounting, I believe they heartily approved the match—and may I just say that I greatly prefer this aunt and uncle to those whose acquaintance I first made.”

  Elizabeth expelled a sigh and shook her head with a look of alarm. “Still. I hope they are well and not too oppressed by their miserable harvest.”

  “They are far enough away that I can wish them well, despite their treatment of you.”

  "I admit, I do not know quite what to think about them. I find myself asking how they came to be in Melonia in the first place—what possessed them to move there? Were they, too, driven mad by Orefados? Were they part of the same spell that made my father send me to Melonia?"

  Canterbourne winced.

  Elizabeth felt sorry for raising the subject. "I am sorry, Mill. I thought I had recovered from the ordeal enough to put it out of my mind

  He kissed her cheek. "You need not apologize. It will get better in time. Just remember that Orefados is gone, and your aunt and uncle are no longer in your life."

  He gave her a sly glance. “And I have some news that may ease your mind about them. I received a letter from that solicitor I consulted, the Englishman in Treviso, Mr. Johnstone. I tasked him with straightening up a little outstanding business that I left undone when we fled Melonia. He had some additional information, however. It seems that Mr. and Mrs. Whitely have expressed an intention of relinquishing your trust.”

  Elizabeth could not keep herself from gaping. “I cannot believe it. The trust seemed like the only thing about me that interested them. I thought they would resist any attempt to take it back. Indeed, I thought they would go so far as to contest our marriage, and would spend the years until my twenty-first birthday sinking whatever they could into their pitiable efforts at viticulture.”