The North Sea House: a gothic romance

by Camille Oster

  I dare say none of your friends will have such a unique marriage proposal," he said. She could feel him smiling.

  "They will faint at the telling."

  "Solving a fifty-year-old mystery and getting caught in a tunnel collapse. I must admit it is perhaps not the most romantic settings for a proposal. Perhaps I should propose to you again somewhere more appropriate. Maybe even as we are appropriately dressed."

  "Don't you dare. I will always treasure our unconventional proposal."

  Brynnell's face was pale and his lips blue when she looked at him. She probably looked the same, but she was so proud of what they'd just done. Granted, they were indecently close, but they needed each other right then and she didn't mind who saw her.

  Chapter 34

  “COME,” HE SAID, “we must get out of the wind as much as possible. Looking around, he urged her closer to the cliff walls to a hollowing in the wall. It wasn’t much and probably did little to reduce the wind, but it was all they had. The pebbles gave to softer sand, but that sand was dry rather than wet.

  Stopping on the sand, he drew her to him again, his arms enveloping her. This was going to be her husband, the man she would love for the rest of her life.

  "Can we kiss now?" she asked and saw him smile before he brought his lips to her. The soft warmth took over her. Slow and deep. Not the rushed urgency when they had feared being caught. There was no fear now, of being caught—not that it was likely right now—because they were engaged. They were allowed to kiss. Wet and naked might be pushing convention somewhat.

  The kiss deepened more and that urgency returned. This was a strong need to be closer to him, to be cherished and loved. All these things she felt in a kiss. The most perilous situation in the world could be cured by such a kiss.

  Hot breath met her when it broke, but neither of them moved away, wrapped around each other as they were. She was engaged to this man, and she had never in her life been happier. It was better than she had ever imagined. Obviously, she'd hoped for this, but had never believed it was possible. Her marriage was going to be a love match.

  Brynnell's lips returned to hers and she wished this kiss would never end. She didn’t feel the cold at all as he kissed her. The tip of his tongue toyed with hers. He tasted so wonderful, and a little of salt from the sea, and she couldn't get enough, but he tore himself away, kissing the corner of her mouth and then toward her neck, drawing her even closer to him. The sensation of his lips on her skin had her eyes swimming closed. Her breath was deep and heavy, trying to get air into her lungs.

  Heat filled her, but she wanted more. She wanted to kiss again, but she also didn't want him to stop the slow and agonizing exploration of her neck's most sensitive spots—spots she hadn't known existed.

  Her hand roamed his back, feeling the solidness of him underneath her fingers. His muscles corded as he moved and it fascinated her.

  It still hadn't fully sunk in that he was hers now. Not fully as they weren't married yet, but she knew in her gut he was not the kind of man to propose marriage and not mean it. He liked her, a lot—enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her. It was difficult to contemplate, especially as his lips distracted her so utterly.

  This exploration was theirs. These feelings and desires belonged to them. A treasure they would share together. And as far as she was concerned it was a treasure more valuable than any jewel or bauble.

  Right now, she needed his lips more than she needed air and she sought them, rewarding herself by pleasure soaking her mind and body. Every part of him, she wanted closer. Her hands exploring him, the feel of his thigh to hers. The heat deep inside her that flared only stronger.

  "I want you," she said breathily.

  "Then I am yours," he replied, his voice strained.

  For a moment, she stilled and let those words soak in. He was hers. Her husband, the father of her children. The man she would love for the rest of her life.

  There was darkness in him from the things he'd seen as a soldier—she could see at times that he struggled with it, but there was lightness too. And she hoped she would bring more light—enough to hold back the darkness. Love, children, a home—these were the things that made for a good life, weren't they?

  Reaching for his lips, she kissed him again. Really, she couldn't get enough, but she wanted to know all of it—all that loving a man entailed. The things girls whispered about. Some feared it, but she didn't. In her heart, she knew it was even better, a completion of their union, and she didn't want to hold back anything.

  A proper lady would ensure that wedding ring was on her finger, but she wanted it all.

  Stepping back, she drew him with her and after a hesitation he came. She wanted to feel him with her, the weight of him. Her insides burned so brightly it felt uncomfortable. She sat down on the sand and he joined her, then lay down. Again he embraced her, the weight of him pressing down on her. Her body ached for him and her thighs parted for him.

  "Vivienne," he said in warning and she froze.

  "You don't want to?"

  "Of course I want to, but if you don't stop, I won't be able to."

  Deep breaths flowed in and out of her screaming lungs, while her mind demanded more kisses. "I don't want to stop. I want this—I want you."

  He remained still for a moment as if considering what he should do. "And if your family says no?"

  "I have promised myself I will marry a man I love and that is just what I intend to do. With my family’s or not. Besides, my parents will be falling over themself to accept, I promise you." How could he believe that any parent would reject his suit? But one of the things she loved about him was that he didn't make arrogant assumptions about himself and how the world perceived him. His experiences had perhaps made him wary of such assumptions. "I don't want to wait." The very thought of it was intolerable. Obviously, her family wasn't going to let her stay with his or vice versa. "With bands and licenses, it will probably be a whole month until we can marry. This is going to be the only chance we have until then." Provided they made it off this beach, but that was an issue she wanted to worry about later.

  That seemed to convince him and he kissed her with renewed urgency. The full weight of him settled again on her and she adored how it felt. She also reveled in the compelling sensation of him pressing to the hottest burning part of her. The sensations it stoked urged her to seek more.

  A tiny voice warned her that it would hurt, but she didn't care. It was much more compelling to belong to him fully as a woman and a wife.

  Again he explored her neck and she arched into the touch, loved the feel of him along her body. At times having a moment of fear where she worried this would change her forever, but she also wanted it to.

  His hand slowly stroked up her thigh and it sent shivers running through her, the heat in her growing in ferocity. It was too much to bear.

  "Bryn," she gasped, struggling to contain the heat inside her. It was a little frightening how much she desired him. It was something she'd never felt before. But she knew in her gut she was supposed to feel this with him. Maybe she had known from the start that she could.

  Shifting away from her, he prepared.

  It wasn't fear she felt when he returned, the tip of his manhood pressing to her. Anticipation and maybe a little concern about the pain that she'd been told was ferocious.

  His breathing was heavy as he slowly pushed inside her, the pain little more than a sting.

  They fit so beautifully together—better than she'd expected. A fullness and sense of completion. And the most curious sensation she'd ever felt. Urgent and compelling, seemingly driving her forward.

  As he drew back and slowly surged forward again a wave of pleasure generated and she marveled at it. His lips sought hers again and they kissed as he repeated the surge. She could tell that he was being gentle and she appreciated the consideration he showed her. His whole body shook with the strain.

  She smiled with the sheer joy of it. This was wonderful a
nd a thing they would explore between them.

  But the strain on him grew more and more, and the surges had a harder edge to them. It didn't scare her, she wanted to see where it would go, that curious feeling that built so strongly with each thrust. But then it overtook her and she no longer had control over them. She was being drawn into the surge, as powerful as the water that was churning below them. It was now both glorious and a little frightening, and she trusted him to see her through this.

  It was pleasure unlike anything she'd ever known, and yes, she was not going to be the same person as before. Each time she would look at him now, she would know that they could do this, and she would want this, maybe even every moment of the day.

  His groans were growing louder and his breath more ragged until he stilled, caught in the still force of it. She felt the exquisiteness of the moment, the culmination. It was as if they were one, finishing in enormous breaths as if there wasn't enough air in the world.

  A warm, languid calm stole every tension away and Brynnell sank into her arms. The weight of him pressed down on her fully as if he had no strength left in his body. Instinct told her there was completion and she knew there was a chance now that she was with child. The idea didn't scare her. Nothing in her believed he was not as committed to marrying her and she was to him. And they might just have started their family.

  So maybe they could not entirely dawdle when it came to the marriage. Because of this, it needed to be done as soon as possible, but it wasn't uncommon that the first child arrived slightly early. People did perhaps comment knowingly between themselves, and she didn't fear that. In fact, she wanted to tell the world what they'd done and how wonderful it had been. That might raise more than a few eyebrows, though.

  Brynnell rolled away from her and he still fought for breath, then he came back, taking her face in his hands and kissing her. She could tell he was happy. They were going to be happy—if they ever managed to get off this beach. Right that moment, though, she was quite happy to just snuggle into his warm embrace.

  Chapter 35

  FOR A WHILE, THERE was no one up along the cliffs and they did warm somewhat. Not warm, perhaps, but not perilously cold, provided they continued to embrace. The wind had dried their clothes and they sat huddled on the beach. His arm was around her and she burrowed into his warmth as much as she could.

  “I am not particularly proud of myself for laying with you,” he admitted and Vivienne sought for understanding in his eyes. “I had fully intended on being gentlemanly and restraining myself until we are wed, but when you are concerned, I am weak.”

  “I do not regret it.”

  “I am glad. As I said, I am not proud of my lack of restraint, and—”

  They heard yelling, and quickly broke apart, and both screamed at the top of their lungs. Vivienne couldn’t stop laughing as she looked over at Brynnell and smiled, even a little sorry that their time alone was over. But it was time for practicality over sentiment.

  It was John's head that appeared first. "What in God's name are you doing down there?"

  "Let's not talk about that now. Find a way of getting us up," Vivienne called back.

  "Find some rope," Brynnell called.

  Shortly after John disappeared, Horace's head appeared and then Lewis’. "How in the world did you get down there?" Horace asked, looking for some way down.

  "We jumped," Brynnell stated.

  "Are you utterly mad? I swear your time in the desert fried your brains, man," Lewis said.

  "It is quite the tale," Brynnell called back, standing as he was in only his breeches, and her in her nightgown. They both were a sight to see.

  It wasn't perhaps the most graceful assent, sitting on a bit of driftwood and being hoisted in the air with her legs on display, but it couldn't be helped. Vivienne went before Brynnell and she had to push herself away from the rocks the entire way. It was frightening, but not as much as jumping in the cold sea.

  Finally, John grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her up. She'd never been so glad to stand on firm ground. Mrs. Dartmoor rushed over with a shawl and wrapped it around her.

  "Your skin's cold to the touch," Mrs. Dartmoor said, rubbing along her bare arms. Truthfully, she didn't feel the cold so much, which probably meant she was really cold. "We'll have Mrs. Sims boil some water for you. You're chilled to the bone."

  But Vivienne's attention was back on Brynnell being lifted up the cliff face. The men were all heaving and bit by bit, he was drawn up, finally appearing. It was a relief that this entire thing was over.

  "What in the damned happened?" Lewis demanded. "Did you fall down there?

  "I'm afraid the tale is more convoluted than that, but I will inform you that in the melee, Miss Harcourt has agreed to become my wife."

  There was stunned silence for a moment. Vivienne turned to John to see how he took the news. He was as shocked as everyone else, maybe even more so. Carefully he turned back to her to see her expression and she smiled.

  "Congratulations," John said. "Both of you. This is quite some news, but let's get you both inside before you catch your deaths."

  "Yes," Vivienne agreed, drawing the shawl in as tightly as possible.

  "I will run ahead and inform Mrs. Sims," Mrs. Dartmoor said and hurried back to the house.

  As Brynnell had expected, there was no evidence of the tunnel collapse. It appeared it hadn't reached the surface. They would never have been found had they not swum to the beach.

  "Congratulations on your betrothal," Mrs. Bollingworth said.

  "Thank you," Vivienne replied.

  "Very unusual." The look she wore suggested she didn't approve of getting caught looking bedraggled and wearing a dirty and scuffed nightgown. But truthfully, Vivienne couldn't be happier. As she walked, she turned back to see Brynnell, a little sorry that they were being pushed apart and taken in different directions.

  Herself, she was taken up to the room, where a bathtub had been placed near the fire and hot water was being poured in. A few more bucketfuls and she could get in. The water burned her skin as she did, but she knew it was her skin that was cold rather than the water too warm. It was uncomfortable to sit in it, but it faded as she warmed up.

  "I cannot imagine what happened," Sophie said, appearing in Vivienne's bedroom where Mrs. Dartmoor was fussing over her. "And engaged? Quite a feat. What extraordinary lengths to go to."

  "If we had not swum, you would never have found us. There was a cave in, you see," Vivienne said, trying to stop the uncontrollable hacking that had now set in.

  "Cave?" Sophie said, looking utterly astonished. "Why in the world would you be down in a cave?"

  "To find Jonathan Fitzgerald's body. He'd been left down there, through a tunnel. Murdered."

  A gasp escaped Mrs. Dartmoor. "I knew there was ill omen in this house." Sophie didn't say anything, but she clearly didn't enjoy where this conversation was going. Well outside of her realm of comfort. Sophie liked amusing conversation, not discussions on corpses and grave misdeeds.

  "And then the tunnel collapsed. We had to escape by swimming around to the beach."

  "All that time, down there. Poor man," Mrs. Dartmoor said. "I hope he rests in peace now."

  "I believe he does," Vivienne said quietly.

  "Old grievances righted. I expect it was Miss Trubright that killed him," Mrs. Dartmoor continued.

  "You cannot say such a thing," Sophie said dismissively.

  "I think she is right," Vivienne said. "But nothing can ever be proven."

  "It doesn't matter," Sophie continued. "They are all dead and gone."

  "Jonathan wished us to know what happened to him," Mrs. Dartmoor continued. Apparently that was the last straw for Sophie, who swept out of the room. "I hope he has found his peace. Thanks to you."

  Vivienne pondered the words for a moment. "I think I found his journal and left it in Mrs. Bollingworth's room. It was I that burned the portrait of Miss Trubright. Why me?" she asked. "Why did I do these things a
nd no one else? I didn't know either of them, nor am I in any way tied to the family."

  Mrs. Dartmoor sat down on the edge of the tub. "Perhaps because you were the only one he could communicate with."

  "Act through, more like. I'm not so sure it was me doing these things as much as him."

  "I suspect you are sensitive to such things," Mrs. Dartmoor said.

  "But I'm not. I don't even believe in ghosts." It was hard to say that with much conviction now. "Why not you who believes in such things?"

  The woman shrugged. "He found what avenue he could to achieve what he felt he needed."

  In a way, Vivienne felt a little used. It was uncomfortable to think he'd taken over and acted through her. "Will this sleepwalking continue? Am I open to any ghost who decides they want to use me?"

  "I should think not. I think in some way, he simply had an affinity with you and you could understand what he needed to do."

  The water had made her as warm as it could, so she got out and sat by the fire as she dried herself and her hair.

  "I think you should rest for a while. The men are making efforts with the slip today. It should just about be passable, I believe."

  Vivienne nodded. Since coming here, she'd feared sleep and didn't want to experience any more influence from the past, with harsh spinsters and ghosts seeking retribution. But she was exhausted. It had been a difficult—and enlightening—night.

  Crawling into her blankets, she rested as Mrs. Dartmoor left her alone, but her mind was too alive to sleep. There were so many thoughts she couldn't quite fit together. When she thought of Brynnell, however, her mind seemed to calm. They were to marry and it was wonderful.

  *

  Her dreams were sweet and perfectly normal. No distant voices or dark corridors, open doors with nothingness outside. In fact, she'd dreamed of her own garden and Brynnell had been there. They'd had tea and been happy.