by Ava Stone
Sidney nodded to his friend as Tilly hugged her sister, and then they trudged through the dungeons, up the stairs to the main floor of the house. It was mid-day, though overcast, so the castle was rather dark. The weather would lend itself well to a nice, long nap for the both of them, he hoped.
As much as Sidney kept insisting she sleep over the last day and a half, Tilly’s eyes refused to close. Every time she put her head to the pillow in her borrowed chambers, she simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind reeling with…well, with everything. She’d always believed in the stories she’d heard about Marisdùn, obviously. It was what had kept her away for so long. And now here she was, not simply hearing stories, but actually living them. It was frightening. Then there was the fact that she was in love for the first—and hopefully last—time in her life. Oh, and one mustn’t forget her diary, which was still missing. Still floating about this castle for anyone to read.
Her stomach clenched anew at that last thought.
“Have you had enough to eat, my darling?” Sidney asked from beside her on the sofa. The endearment he used made her blush to her toes, no matter they were the only ones in the room. Did he really think of her as his darling?
Tilly finally nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion upon her, but knowing she’d not be able to sleep until all this was over with. “Perhaps a walk through the gardens?” she suggested.
Sidney shook his head. “You are going to bed.”
“We could read to each other in the library.”
“Bed.”
“Or take Sebastian for a ride!” There. That ought to do the trick.
Indeed, Sidney did hesitate at this last one, but in the end, he simply said, “Bed.”
“But I won’t be able to sleep,” Tilly argued.
Sidney slid closer to her, and pulled her into his arms. “What if you came to bed with me?”
Tilly ought to have gasped, or slapped him, or chastised him in some way for his suggestion. It’s what Father would have wanted her to do. But as she snuggled into his arms just now, his hand gently caressing her hair, she realized she didn’t have an ounce of fight in her.
He tipped her chin up until she met his hazel eyes. “Just to sleep,” he clarified, and while it set her at ease somewhat, it also filled her with disappointment.
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes?”
She nodded her confirmation this time.
“I must admit, I thought it was going to take a bit more convincing.” That sly, enigmatic smile she loved so much spread his lips.
Tilly didn’t want to break the spell by telling him it might be their last opportunity to share a bed together. That once Father was released—if he was released—she’d be forced back into her life of servitude as the vicar’s daughter. Even if Sidney were to ask for her hand, which seemed like a strong possibility, Father would never approve.
“I’m hoping perhaps your bed is more comfortable than mine,” she finally said.
Sidney’s eyes darkened and his jaw set. “Well then,” he said, his voice lowered to nearly a whisper, “let us not delay.”
Minutes later, they arrived at the door to Sidney’s bedchamber. He scanned the corridor to make certain they were alone, and then he ushered her quickly inside. The room was far more impressive than the one she and Lila had been assigned to. There was a sitting area with a roaring fire, a tall mirror, a chest of drawers, and… the bed. An impressive four-poster, draped in dark green and gold at the corners, already turned down so they might simply climb into it and fall fast asleep. Not that Tilly had any real hopes for sleep.
Sidney immediately removed his coat and then began untying his cravat while Tilly stood awkwardly by. Was she supposed to watch him? Take a seat in the sitting area? Climb into the bed?
She caught Sidney’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He wore a roguish grin that made her body heat in places she’d never even known she had.
“I’ve been suffocating in this bloody thing all day,” he said, pulling it free at last. “There. Much better.”
Blast, but his neck was so…masculine. Tilly had never imagined she’d be enamored of a neck, but then again, she’d never seen Sidney’s neck, had she?
“Come,” he said, gesturing to her.
Wordlessly, she walked to him, and when she arrived before him, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her, so her back was to him. He began by removing the pins from her hair, slowly, one-by-one, and with each one he plucked from her tresses, Tilly came more and more alive. Like all of her senses were suddenly so very aware. Aware of his gentle touch, the sound of his breathing, the smell of his cologne, the look of lust in his eyes, which she could see clearly in the mirror’s reflection.
Her hair finally fell loose and tumbled down about her shoulders. Sidney tested the weight of it in his hands, and then pushed it over her shoulder so he could begin working on the buttons of her dress. Was she really going to let him do this? Father would die if he knew she was up here, alone in Sidney Garrick’s room, allowing him to undress her and take her to bed.
A little smile played at the corners of her lips. Something inside of her was really enjoying being a little bit wicked. And something told her the world wasn’t going to end because of it.
With her buttons undone, Sidney tucked his hands under the shoulders of the dress and pushed it forward, caressing her arms as he disrobed her. It felt delicious to have his bare hands on her bare skin, like every fantasy she’d ever had, only better by a million.
“Now,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling against her ear, “let’s get some sleep.”
“Sleep?” she choked out.
She watched his reflection in the mirror, a roguish smile coming to his lips as he stared at her. “Did you have something else in mind?”
Tilly swallowed over a large lump in her throat. She did have something else in mind, though being an innocent and sheltered daughter of a vicar, she wasn’t quite certain what that something else was. Kissing, caressing…she was sure there had to be more, but she was completely unsure of the details.
“Um…erhm…I…” She wasn’t terribly articulate, was she? But what in the world was she supposed to say?
Blessedly, she didn’t have to say anything, for Sidney swept her off her feet, and into his arms, and Tilly felt like a damsel being carried off by a dragon. Only, he was a really handsome dragon, and she sort of hoped no one ever tried to come and rescue her from him.
He placed her on the bed and then went around to the other side, divesting himself of the rest of his outer clothes on the way. Which left him in his shirt. Only his shirt.
Tilly’s mouth went dry as she watched him climb into the bed. Good heavens. What was she doing? And why wasn’t she doing it faster? And why hadn’t she done it sooner? His masculine beauty accosted her eyes, the long, lean muscles, the dusting of dark blond hair on his legs, arms…chest.
She averted her gaze away from his body and met his eyes, which were darkened with lust. Hers probably were too, for she felt truly and completely lustful just then.
Before she could speak—not that she had anything to say—his lips were on hers, his warm body pressing her into the down pillows behind her. She could hardly breathe, but she didn’t want to come up for air. She just wanted to stay like this, forever.
Finally. Sidney had finally succeeded in getting Tilly—his very naughty little minx, as it turned out—to go to sleep. Of course, who wouldn’t need to sleep after that? Sidney smiled. He couldn’t help it. She was, in a word, perfect. In every way. In spite of her innocence and lack of experience. Or perhaps because of it. The way she gasped and mewled her pleasure at all the new sensations she was experiencing was, in a word, refreshing. Her wide eyes, filled with desire and…trust. Good God, when was the last time a woman had looked at him like that, with complete and utter trust in her eyes?
Truthfully, they’d all been right not to trust him. But he was different now. He
’d changed. Marisdùn had changed him. And while these frightening things were happening all around him, sometimes making him fear for his own life, and those around him, it had taught him not to take anything for granted. Or anyone.
He rolled over onto his side to watch her sleep. Her sweet, pink lips were slightly parted, and he had to resist the urge to kiss them. Her dark lashes rested just above rosy cheeks. He thrilled at the thought that he’d get to watch her sleep every day for the rest of their lives. That was, if she would have him.
His eyes trailed down her body, hidden by the thin, white sheet, and lingered on her belly. She would most definitely have him now, for it was quite possible his babe was already growing inside of her.
Damn, when had he become so interested in getting married and having children?
A smile tugged at his lips. When he met Tilly, that’s when.
As much as he wanted to curl up with her and fall asleep, their little romp had had the opposite effect on him as it did her. He felt more awake and more alive than he’d felt in a long time. And seeing as Sebastian hadn’t had a good run in a while, it seemed the perfect time.
He kissed his darling Tilly on her forehead and left her to sleep. He had a feeling she wouldn’t wake for quite some time.
Tilly shot up in the dark, gasping for air, her heart practically racing out of her chest. The lingering effects of her dream flashed across her mind’s eye, terrifying her almost as much in real life as it had in slumber. A hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped. If it hadn’t been for the soothing voice that followed, she would have run screaming from the bed.
“It’s all right, my love,” Sidney whispered, pulling her back down and into the nook of his arm, the safest place she could ever imagine being. “It was only a dream.”
She nodded, trying to steady her breath. He caressed her hair, her cheek; he swiped at the tears under her eyes with his thumb—tears she hadn’t even realized she’d been crying.
They lay there in silence for a while. Tilly savored the comforting feel of his hands caressing her, his arms engulfing her, his body warming her.
“Has my father…woken up?” she asked, conflicted on what she wanted for an outcome in all this. If he couldn’t be saved from the demon, she’d have no obstacles between her and Sidney. But of course she wanted Father to wake up. He didn’t deserve to suffer and perish in this way.
Sidney shook his head. “Not last I checked.” He came up to his elbow and stared down at her in the darkness. “But it is almost dawn. Nearly time for us to take watch again.”
“Goodness, how long did I sleep?”
He placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “A good, long time,” he said, sounding satisfied with himself. As he should have been. How could she not sleep after all that? “Shall we get some breakfast before we resume our position in the dungeon?”
Tilly wasn’t at all eager to leave this bed. Part of her worried she’d never see it again. But it was part of her now—a place where she’d made memories she’d never, in her whole life, forget. But it wouldn’t be fair to the others if she chose to stay here, curled up in comfort forever, while they stood watch over her demon father in the dank, cold dungeon.
“I suppose so,” she finally conceded, as she rolled away from him, toward the edge of the bed. Her hand skimmed something hard beneath her pillow, though, giving her pause. “What’s this?” she asked aloud as her fingers clamped around a book. Her pulse sped as she felt the familiar leather beneath her fingers. “Light a candle,” she choked out.
Sidney was by her side with a lit candle only moments later, illuminating her most prized of possessions in her hands. She wanted to weep with gratitude.
“What on earth?” Sidney whispered, setting the candle on the nightstand. “Your diary?”
Tilly nodded, relief flooding her body. “My diary.”
“But it wasn’t there last night,” he said slowly, lowering himself to the bed beside her. And indeed, it had not been. They would have known, what with all the pillow rearranging they’d done.
“Do you think…?”
“My dear Tilly, after all that I’ve seen and heard in this castle, I absolutely think that yes, the Mordue children have returned your diary to you.”
“Why do you think they stole it in the first place?”
Sidney’s hand rested on her belly. “Who knows why children do anything,” he smiled. “They are mischievous little creatures, apparently, whether alive or…not.”
They stared at one another in the semi-darkness for a long moment. Tilly’s heart raced as she thought of the implications of what they’d done last night. Clearly, he’d been thinking about it too. But did it mean what she hoped it meant?
“Matilda Southward,” he said at last, his voice gentle and soft. “I have something very particular I’d like to ask you.”
Tilly could hardly move, or breathe, or think, or do anything that ought to come rather naturally. So she simply sat there, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open in anticipation.
“When all this is over,” he went on, “may I…that is, will you…?”
“Yes,” she blurted out, unable to wait for him to finish the sentence. “That is…I will marry you, if that’s what you were trying to ask,” she clarified.
Sidney burst into laughter and then gathered her in his arms. “Of course that’s what I was asking, precious girl.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips. “You’ve made me quite the happiest man in all of England.”
All of Quent’s masquerade guests had long since departed the castle. It had been two days since Wolf and Daphne had ended up taking Thorn and Anna with them to Scotland. And in the time since, Quent, Garrick, Lila, her sister, and a myriad of Marisdùn servants took turns sitting vigil in the dungeons, keeping watch over the vicar, who did nothing but hurl insults and threats their direction, often speaking in a language Quent had never heard before. Thank God he had a large dungeon, equipped with strong shackles, which was not a thought that had ever occurred to him even once in his life before the last few days.
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Braden said as he strode into Quent’s study.
“And the day after is Monday,” he agreed, though he had no idea what his brother was getting at.
“Yes.” He nodded his head. “But Mr. Southward is not supposed to deliver a sermon on Monday, so I’m mostly concerned with how to handle tomorrow.”
Damn it all. Quent hadn’t given one thought about the vicar’s Sunday sermon. “What do we do?”
“I think the only thing we can do is lie. I can have Cyrus Eilbeck spread word through the village that Mr. Southward is ill and that this week’s services will be cancelled.”
There didn’t really seem to be another choice. “He’ll do that for us?”
“He’ll do it for Lila,” his brother replied.
Lila. Quent would do anything for her too. And if the puffed-up magistrate was willing to help, Quent supposed he wouldn’t be irritated that the man still seemed to want to garner Lila’s affections. “Just as long as he doesn’t expect her hand in exchange for his services. She’s promised that to me.”
“You’re in the clear.” Braden shook his head, slightly amused even though there was nothing remotely amusing about any of this. “I just wanted to make sure there was no change in the situation before we proceeded with that plan.”
Quent pushed out of his seat. “No change. And no word from Wolf or Thorn for that matter either. Let’s hope something happens before next week’s sermon. I don’t think an ill vicar will be believed two weeks in a row.”
Neither did Quent. But they’d have to deal with one Sunday at a time, he supposed.
“But speaking of Lila’s hand—” Braden sat on the edge of Quent’s desk “—Mrs. Small tells me Kilworth had another of his special licenses found with the rest of his possessions. I’m surprised you haven’t already used it.”
The thing was actually sitting on the far corner of the desk a
t the moment, and Quent had spent more than a little time contemplating that very idea. “Yes, well, the only man in the village who could marry us is currently strung up in my dungeons.” He smiled slightly at his brother. “Besides, I hardly think she’d consider the idea until her father has been returned to himself.”
Braden agreed with a nod. “I am glad you found her despite all of this madness.”
“I understand why you married Callie so quickly last year. If things were different, I’d have already made use of Kilworth’s license.”
“Yes, well—”
But whatever Braden meant to say was cut off when Lila rushed into the study. “Quent!” she said, shaking slightly. “They’re back!”
“Wolf and Thorn?” He pushed out of his chair as his brother found his feet as well.
She nodded. “Do come quickly.”
“Of course, of course, love.” Quent rounded his desk and grasped Lila’s hand in his. “And don’t worry. They’re back much sooner than I expected. So they must have found someone who can help.”
The three of them navigated the castle corridors until they nearly ran Mrs. Small right over.
“My lord!” The housekeeper touched a hand to her heart. “I was coming to retrieve you. Bendle just left your guests in the blue parlor.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Small,” Quent replied, then he squeezed Lila’s hand.
She smiled up at him tentatively, and he directed her over the threshold into the blue parlor, which he’d avoided ever since Kilworth had died and since Vicar Southward had slid that ring onto his finger. Just stepping into the room made him uneasy.
The room was filled much as it had been that night. Thorn, Anna, Garrick, Matilda, Wolf, Daphne, and an older man who was small in stature and adorned all in black, save for his white priest’s collar. The priest met Quent’s eye as soon as he, Lila and Braden entered the blue parlor. So this was the fellow Thorn and Wolf had retrieved to save the vicar, was it? He looked like a strong wind might bowl him over.
