by Ava Stone
There wasn’t much to see, but as she’d agreed to travel with him, he wasn’t in a hurry to dissuade her now. “Well, then we’ll have a grand time of it.”
“I always have a grand time with you.”
And Quent would make sure that they had a grand time for the rest of their lives. He didn’t give her any warning at all before he scooped her up in his arms and started for the corridor.
She slid her arms around his neck and giggled. “Quentin Post! What are you doing?” she giggled.
“Taking my wife bed. It has been several hours since I’ve made love to her, several tortuous hours.” He bit back a smile as he navigated the corridor and headed for the family wing.
“You poor thing,” she giggled again. “So surprising you’ve survived the rest of the day.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “But not to worry, love. I’ll make sure we’ll have a grand time of it.”
Then she echoed her earlier words once more. “I always have a grand time with you, Quent.”
February 1, 1817, Florence, Italy
Anna sighed again. It was a response David had become used to each time they came to the public square outside the Palazzo della Signoria, where Michelangelo’s David stood. Today she didn’t have a sketchbook in hand, not that he would have minded if she did. During their stay in Florence Anna had been out here in the early morning, in the evening, and every hour in between on various days to sketch David from different angles and in different light. While she studied the statute, David studied her. Not Michelangelo’s David, of course. His eyes were turned toward Rome.
He loved the concentration in her green eyes, the tilt of her head and the way she sometimes pursed those lush lips when trying to get her lines just right.
“You know, darling, most gentlemen would be jealous if their wife spent so much time admiring the form of another man while on their wedding trip.” He was just happy she didn’t try to climb the base of the statue to get a closer look.
“I do believe I’ve spent more time admiring you.”
That she had.
“And you are more distracting. He,” she gestured to the statue, “never reacts when I study him.”
“Yes, well, as we’ve discussed, I’m not a leaf to be examined.”
She covered her mouth with a gloved hand and giggled, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. He might never let her forget that she once told him that viewing the human form as an artist was no different than a botanist studying a leaf.
Anna had sketched him nearly as much as she did this David since they married. Many hours had been spent in the suite of rooms just so he could model for her. It wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. Not when her eyes darkened with admiration, or she ran her delicate fingers along the ridges of his spine, or the muscles of his abdomen. “He is made of stone my dear.” You simply turned a part of me that way. Not that he would say that out loud where others could hear and Anna had yet to finish any of her sketches of him because he always ended up pulling her into his arms and onto the bed.
Well, it was their wedding trip and there were certain entertainments that should be enjoyed between a husband and wife. Often!
They hadn’t spent all of their time staring at the statue or in their chambers though. Anna had showed David much of the city. He could see why she loved it here. It was more Renaissance than modern, with the cathedrals and art, and the people were so relaxed and friendly. So unlike London much of the time. His favorite place was Ponte Vecchio Bridge, where they strolled and shopped. He’d tried to purchase a stunning emerald ring to replace the thin gold band they used in Scotland, but Anna wanted her gold band and nothing else adorning her finger. Instead, he went back and purchased a delicate gold chain with a simple cluster of emeralds with matching earbobs that he surprised her with last evening.
He could easily spend more time here, but they both needed to get back to England.
“Our trunks have been loaded,” David reminded her one last time. “Our ship leaves from Livorno in two days.”
Anna turned toward him, tears sparked in her eyes. “Thank you for the most wonderful wedding trip.”
He pulled back. “Rome was wonderful?”
A smile pulled at her lips. “Adventurous.” She linked her hand into his arm and they started for the street where their carriage waited.
“Yes, well, I much prefer the quietness of Florence than being nearly killed in Rome.”
Anna shivered at his side. Perhaps he shouldn’t have reminded her.
“At least the box and that ring is now safely tucked away where nobody can ever find it again.”
“If anyone ever asks me to deliver a relic somewhere, please remind me to decline the offer.”
“I’ll decline before you ever have a chance to think about it.”
He helped her up into the waiting carriage and settled beside her. Anna had her head turned, looking out the window.
“I promise to bring you back.”
She turned to him. “I’m no longer sure it’s necessary.” Then she turned toward him more fully. “Why do I need to return to that David when I have my very own.”
February 17, 1817
It was a bitterly cold February day. Snow covered every inch of the ground outside, and dreary clouds hovered overhead. Tilly stared out the window with a mile-wide smile spread across her face, as if it were the finest spring day. And to her, it was, for today was her eighteenth birthday. Or, even more importantly, her wedding day.
The past fourteen weeks had felt like pure torture, but she’d endured them, and soon they’d be nothing more than a distant memory. Although, it wasn’t all bad, if she were to be honest with herself. Sidney had applied himself quite rigorously to the task of courting her. Tilly had never been courted by anyone in her life, so that in itself had been quite exciting. Though it hadn’t been Tilly he’d needed to endear himself to. Father had proved himself a formidable match for Sidney, challenging him to Biblical discussions, and insisting upon propriety when it came to the courtship.
But it was on Christmas Day that Father came to respect Sidney and finally take him seriously. No one could have imagined that Sidney’s challenge of the Christmas story would have done the trick, but it appeared Father enjoyed being challenged, for it was the very evening that he gave Sidney his blessing to marry Tilly…once she reached the acceptable age of eighteen, of course.
And now it was here, the long-awaited day. The day she and Sidney would become man and wife…as long as they could make it through the snow to the parish church.
A gentle knock came at Tilly’s door, and she whirled around just in time to see Anna and Lila pushing through into the room. Both of them had rosy cheeks and noses from the cold.
“Are you awake?” Lila asked, a wide smile on her pink lips and a shimmer in her eyes.
“You make it sound as though I slept last night,” Tilly replied.
“Did your nerves get the better of you?” Anna asked, picking up Tilly’s veil and studying the lace pattern.
“I’m not nervous at all.” And it was true. Tilly was anything but nervous. “Excited is more like it. The two of you can’t understand what it’s like to wait!”
Anna and Lila cast each other sidelong glances.
“Oh, can’t we?” Lila replied, a sarcastic edge to her tone. “If you remember right, I had to wait a whole year just to see Quent again.”
“And I spent a year drawing sketches of David, wondering if he even knew I existed,” Anna added.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Tilly demurred. “In the grand scheme of things, it seems I had the shortest wait, didn’t I?”
Lila stroked a gentle hand down Tilly’s hair. “Yes, and in a few short hours, you won’t even remember that you had to wait at all. There will be only you and Sidney—”
“And it will feel as if you are starting life anew.”
“Like the old life never existed.”
“Is that why you two haven’
t been to visit, then? You forgot all about me?”
Lila swatted her on the arm. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she laughed. “I saw you just last week.”
“Besides, you don’t forget the people,” Anna added.
“Though married life will consume you, especially because you’re in love.”
Tilly’s heart expanded, and she thought it might burst inside her chest. She really, truly was in love with Sidney, and he with her. It was a feeling like none other—a feeling she never wanted to go away.
“Come now,” Lila said, dropping Tilly’s hand and heading for the armoire. “You mustn’t be late for your own wedding.”
Anna and Lila assisted Tilly in getting ready, pinning her hair and dressing her in the pale pink gown Sidney had bought her for Christmas. He’d given it to her with the explicit instructions that she wear it on their wedding day, as if that would be a hardship. Heavens, it was quite the most exquisite thing she’d ever owned, all soft and frilled around the edges. So delicate, Tilly hardly wanted to move for fear of tearing or snagging it. She swore she’d not even eat a morsel of food whilst wearing it.
“Are you ready to see yourself?” Lila asked at long last. They’d kept her away from mirrors the entire time they’d been preparing her.
Tilly nodded, and then held her breath as Anna turned the full-length mirror around. Tilly’s image appeared before her, but she could hardly recognize herself. Half her hair was pinned up, and the rest fell in delicate curls about her shoulders. The pink of the dress reflected on her face, giving her a rosy glow—or perhaps that was simply the glow of being in love. She couldn’t be certain one way or the other.
She brought a hand to her cheek. “It doesn’t even look like me,” she whispered.
“Of course it does,” Anna replied.
“You’ve always been beautiful,” Lila added.
Whether they were being sincere or simply being overly kind on her wedding day, Tilly would never know. But she didn’t really care. She only wanted to get to the church, to see Sidney, to be married.
Getting to this point had been nothing short of torture. And as Sidney stood at the front of the Ravenglass parish church, he knew that every moment of torture had been worth it. Every moment spent in tedious discussion over Biblical stories with the vicar, every moment of chaperoned time with Tilly, every night of aching and longing to be with her, to have her by his side…it was all worth it. She was worth it.
In mere moments, those back doors would open, and his beautiful bride would make her way toward him to be joined in holy matrimony. By her father, of course. He would obviously expect the kiss to be chaste and appropriate for a house of God, but it had been fourteen long weeks since Sidney had been able to kiss his beloved. He didn’t plan to hold back just because God, the vicar, and the entire town were looking on.
The handles on the doors twitched, and Sidney ran his sweaty palms down his coat. How ridiculous for him to be nervous, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d been waiting too long, and he could hardly stand still for all the excitement and anticipation that had built up inside of him.
The doors flung open, and a cold wind swept through the church. But it didn’t bother Sidney one bit. As a matter of fact, he needed a bit of cooling off when he saw his bride. Good God above, she was radiant. And no doubt freezing. But she didn’t seem to mind the cold either. Her smile stretched from ear to ear as she beamed at him from the back of the chapel. Music swirled around him as she walked slowly—far too slowly, if you asked him—toward the altar.
Sidney barely heard a word the vicar said throughout the ceremony, though when it came time to repeat his vows, Sidney said them with all the love and sincerity he felt in his heart toward this beautiful woman before him. And when they were pronounced man and wife, he grabbed his bride about her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her for all she was worth. Which was quite a lot.
There were some gasps, some laughter, and finally a loud ahem from her father, and the two parted, laughing with giddiness.
“I told you I would see you at the altar,” he whispered, still holding her close, refusing to ever let her go again.
“Do you think I doubted you?” she replied, giving him that sly little smile he loved so much.
“It wouldn’t have mattered. And I would do it all over again just to have you.” He pulled her tighter to him and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Mrs. Garrick.”
She smiled up at him, a promising gleam in her eyes. “And I love you, Mr. Garrick.”
As we were collaborating on One More Haunted Evening, we wanted to draw inspiration from real haunted stories as our foundation. We pored over many different stories, watched a variety of documentaries and researched quite a few hauntings. The story of the haunted Dibbuk Box, which has garnered international attention, served as the basis for the ancient jewelry box in which Quent, Sidney and David discover the cursed Roman ring from this anthology. And like the box that served as our inspiration, we didn’t want there to be an easy fix for our heroes and heroines in this set of stories. The Roman ring is still cursed, but hidden away in the hopes that no one else will ever open the box and release the entity within.
Exorcisms today follow the guidelines established by Pope Leo XIII in the late 19th Century. However, His Holiness would have only been 6 years old at the time of One More Haunted Evening; therefore the exorcism performed by Father Matthew in the dungeons of Marisdùn Castle would have been altogether different than the ones performed today.
Jane Charles is a USA Today Bestselling Author and has lived in the Midwest her entire life. As a child she would more likely be found outside with a baseball than a book in her hand. In fact, Jane hated reading until she was sixteen. Out of boredom on a long road trip she borrowed her older sister's historical romance and fell in love with reading. She long ago lost count of how many novels she has read over the years and her love for them never died. Along with romance she has a passion for history and the two soon combined when she penned her first historical romance, and she has been writing since with the loving support from her husband, three children and three cats. She writes both historical (set in the Regency period) and Coming of Age contemporary.
USA Today Best Selling Author, Jerrica Knight-Catania, knew from an early age that she was destined for romance. She would spend hours as a young girl sitting in a chair by an open window, listening to the rain, and dreaming of the day Prince Charming would burst in and declare his undying love for her. But it wasn't until she was 28-years-old, tired of her life in the theater, that she turned her focus toward writing Regency Romance novels. All her dreaming paid off, and she now gets to relive those romantic scenes she'd dreamt up as a child as she commits them to paper. She lives in sunny Palm Beach with her real life Prince Charming, their Princess-in-training and their aristocat, Dr. Snuggle.
Visit Jerrica's official website to learn more about her other books, the Wetherby family and to see what's new in her writing world!
www.jerricasplace.com
Ava Stone is a USA Today bestselling author of Regency historical romance and college age New Adult romance. Whether in the 19th Century or the 21st, her books explore deep themes but with a light touch. A single mother, Ava lives outside Raleigh NC, but she travels extensively, always looking for inspiration for new stories and characters in the various locales she visits.
Feel free to visit her at:
www.avastoneauthor.com and www.desolatesun.com
