The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides Read online

  “Then what do you want it to be?”

  “I do not know. But after our conversation last night, I am thinking on my destiny. That hope you have for yours… I want it for mine.”

  Emma pondered that. Then she looked around the reception room, which now that it was lit up by the morning sun was a truly beautiful room. Or, at least it had been, once. It would be nice to be in such surroundings again and she wasn’t afraid of hard work.

  But her appearance was another matter.

  “I… I do not know,” she said, though she set her satchel down, wearily, as his offer weighed heavily on her. “As a companion, what would you expect of me? I will tell you now that I will not do anything improper, so do not ask. If you are lonely for a woman, I am sure there are many in the taverns of Easingwold that will satisfy your needs.”

  He snorted, finding some humor in that prim statement. “I know I said that I wanted my destiny to be gambling and women, but I did not mean it,” he said. “I am coming to think I am too old for foolery any longer. One good woman is all most men need and they are the better for it.”

  Emma wasn’t sure if he meant her or any number of other good women in England. “You did not answer my question,” she said. “What would you expect of me?”

  He sighed faintly, casting his eyes downward as he thought on his answer. “I do not want to be lonely any longer,” he said. “I do not think you want to be lonely any longer, either. Stop being transient, Miss Emma. Stay here, with me. I realize that there is nothing about me that could be considered a desirable companion. No one wants a companion with defects. But I am offering my home to you and I am hoping you will accept.”

  Emma’s brow furrowed as she thought on his words – no one wants a companion with defects. He was a bitter, tormented soul, but she didn’t sense that it was a permanent state. She’d seen glimpses of a man with humor and warmth last night. But if she remained, he would surely see the scars on her face. So in that sense, she was the one with the defects.

  It pained her to think that he would not look past such things. Not that she blamed him. But it was better to be honest with him now so the truth was out between them.

  “Your offer is generous,” she said as she approached him. “While remaining as a maid would be agreeable, I am not certain… that is to say, it was dark last night and we were unable to get a good look at each other. You may not want to…”

  He turned to her, cutting her off. “Can you get a good look at me now?”

  “Aye, I can, but…”

  “What do you think?”

  She stopped a few feet away, looking at his handsome, stubbled face. “I think that you look tired,” she said. “And ill. Are you still with fever?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps a little,” he said. “I feel better than I did last night. But what I want to know is if you think I am easy on the eyes.”

  She looked at him closely; dark hair and dark eyes, he was even more comely at close range. “Aye,” she said after a moment. “You’ll do.”

  He grinned, flashing big teeth with slightly protruding canines. “Good,” he said. “Now, tell me what you look like.”

  Emma stared at him as if she didn’t quite understand the question. “What I…?”

  He could hear her confusion and hastened to explain. “The accident that killed Eulalie robbed me of most of my sight,” he said. “I can see light and shadow, and shapes for the most part, but detail and color escape me. Truthfully, I cannot see much of anything.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “Then you… you cannot see me?”

  He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Just your shape,” he said. “You have a very nice shape, by the way. What color is your hair?”

  Emma continued to stare at him, overwhelmed with the realization. “Copper,” she whispered, realizing she was close to tears. “It is the color of shiny copper.”

  “And your eyes?”

  “Violet.”

  His smile broadened. “Then you are beautiful,” he said. “I can hear it in your voice. With copper hair and violet eyes, surely you look like a goddess divine. When I told you that darkness came to this place when Eulalie was killed, I meant literally. I live in mostly darkness. But at this moment… I see you. Where there is light, there is hope.”

  As much as she wanted to let him believe what he would, there was a part of her that felt she had to be completely honest with him, just as he had been with her. It went beyond describing her coloring.

  There was a reality to face.

  “If you wish to see me, then you may… look,” she said softly. “You must know the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  Hoping she wasn’t irrevocably ruining this hope she held in her heart, she went to him, removing the scarf from her head as she did so. He could see her coming and turned to look at her, but his beautiful eyes were unfocused, it seemed. Reaching out, Emma took one of his big, rough hands and lifted it to her face.

  “See me,” she whispered.

  He did.

  Asher’s finger moved over her face, first with one hand and then the second. He touched her gently, like a butterfly’s wings, until he came to the heavy scarring on her face. Then, he seemed to pause.

  “What happened?” he asked gently, touching the rippled skin.

  “The same accident that killed my parents,” she said, watching his face, hoping she wouldn’t see disgust in his eyes. “I tried to save them and my clothing caught fire.”

  “And damaged your face.”

  “Just a little.”

  He continued to touch her, his hands eventually finding their way into her hair. Emma closed her eyes, feeling the thrill of his touch as she’d never felt anything in her life. She always thought something like this would elude her, so even if it was to be a brief moment of joy, she would experience it.

  And tuck it into her heart forever.

  “You are still beautiful,” he said quietly. “I do not have to have eyes to see that.”

  Tears filled Emma’s eyes. If that was the way he wanted to see her, then she could ask for nothing more. Perhaps this was the hope she’d been speaking of last night, the hope in a destiny that would be something worth living. Perhaps her very best hope lay in the illusion that a blind man was painting her in his mind.

  To him, she was forever beautiful.

  It was exactly what she needed to hear.

  “If you want me to remain, then I shall,” she murmured tightly. “But we will establish rules from the start.”

  “Of course. I would expect nothing less.”

  “Nothing improper will occur beneath this roof. Is that clear?”

  He nodded. “It is,” he said. “At least until I marry you.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Marry me, is it? I thought it was just for companionship.”

  “That is only the beginning.”

  Emma truthfully didn’t know what to say. She thought maybe he was being a bit rash but, in truth, she really didn’t care. It filled her heart with joy to know she was wanted.

  Needed.

  As reckless as it sounded, she was willing to throw caution to the wind to feel as if she belonged somewhere, finally.

  It was too good to believe.

  “Then we shall speak of it at a later time,” she said. “For now, I think it is enough that I remain here and help you with the house. I run a tight ship, Lord Westhorpe.”

  “Please call me Ash.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “It is hardly proper that I address you so.”

  “In time, then?”

  “Perhaps.”

  It was good enough for him, at least for the moment. The light of an unexpected future was bright in his face and he began to move in her direction.

  Emma was fixed on his eyes, which seemed to be looking right at her. They appeared slightly unfocused but, other than that, she didn’t note anything out of the ordinary with the way he was looking at her. But the stick he kept next to his bed,
the one he walked with, was coming to make sense now.

  He used it to find his way in a world of darkness.

  In fact, as the sun shone brightly through the dirty windows, a great deal was coming to make sense. It was that hope she’d spoken of, now coming to fruition in all its glory. As she pondered that realization, Asher reached out and took her hand.

  “I have dwelt alone for so very long,” he said softly. “I suspect you have, also. Am I wrong?”

  His hand clutching hers caused Emma’s heart to race. “No,” she whispered. “You are not wrong.”

  “You are alone no longer, Emma. And neither am I.”

  As she watched, he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the flesh gently, and Emma’s heart beat so firmly against her ribs that she was certain it would burst from her chest. It was a something she never thought she would know, the gentle attention of a man who saw her for who she was, not what she was. Forever beautiful in the eyes of a blind man.

  She was no longer to dwell in the world, alone.

  Emma Fairweather was lost no more.

  The Lore Chronicles

  Deep into Darkness

  Realm of Angels

  Kingdom by the Sea

  About the Author

  Medieval Just Got Real.

  KATHRYN LE VEQUE is a USA TODAY Bestselling author, an Amazon All-Star author, and a #1 bestselling, award-winning, multi-published author in Medieval Historical Romance and Historical Fiction. She has been featured in the NEW YORK TIMES and on USA TODAY’s HEA blog. In March 2015, Kathryn was the featured cover story for the March issue of InD’Tale Magazine, the premier Indie author magazine. She was also a quadruple nominee (a record!) for the prestigious RONE awards for 2015.

  Kathryn’s Medieval Romance novels have been called ‘detailed’, ‘highly romantic’, and ‘character-rich’. She crafts great adventures of love, battles, passion, and romance in the High Middle Ages. More than that, she writes for both women AND men – an unusual crossover for a romance author – and Kathryn has many male readers who enjoy her stories because of the male perspective, the action, and the adventure.

  Kathryn loves to hear from her readers. Please find Kathryn on Facebook at Kathryn Le Veque, Author, or join her on Twitter @kathrynleveque, and don’t forget to visit her website and sign up for her blog at www.kathrynleveque.com.

  Please follow Kathryn on Bookbub for the latest releases and sales.

  Aislin

  Meara Platt

  Dear Reader,

  This story is inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s haunting poem, A Dream Within A Dream. My hero, William Croft, appeared as a character in an earlier story of mine called Pearls of Fire. He was found floating amid a ring of fire beside a sinking ship in the turbulent waters between England and Ireland. He was rescued but has no memory of the attack on his ship or the days leading up to it. Who was responsible? What happened to his brother? And who is Aislin, this girl who haunts his thoughts? This is William’s story, a man whose life seems but a dream within a dream.

  With love,

  Meara

  Chapter One

  Cornwall, England

  August, 1816

  William Croft’s dreams lately had been of a girl with long dark hair always worn unbound and whose smoke-gray eyes had the power to reach into a man’s soul. He saw her each night rushing down the steps of Tintagel Castle, a Celtic beauty from the myths of Merlin and Camelot and the dragon caves beneath the massive, stone ruins.

  She now haunted his waking hours as well, to the point he could not move forward with his new life. Rather, it was a resumed life interrupted by years of memories lost.

  “Will we reach Tintagel by sundown?” William Croft asked his coach driver when they stopped to rest the horses alongside an inland pool used as a watering hole for ponies that ran wild across Bodmin Moor.

  “Aye, m’lord. Long before, never ye worry,” the hired driver responded in a thick Cornish accent, deep and robust, almost swallowing the words as they rolled off his tongue.

  A bleak expanse of heather stretched across the moor like waves upon a sea of palest lavender, their sturdy stalks tossed back and forth by the whipping wind. The vast emptiness was familiar to him, but he did not know why. He had no memory of ever crossing here before. Yet, he had been here, just as he had been to Tintagel Castle, Polzeath, and Port Isaac. His dreams lately had also been of these towns along the rugged Cornwall coast.

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts, knowing he had surely lost his mind to come all this way from London for a girl who existed only in his fantasies. Was it possible she was real? She seemed so, and he knew he somehow had to find her in order to regain that lost part of himself.

  The driver cleared his throat as he approached. “Baron Whitpool, the horses are ready.”

  He nodded to the burly Cornishman. “Let’s make haste then, Mr. Musgrove.”

  Storm clouds were now gathering on the horizon, and he was eager to be on his way. This was an odd patch of land, seemingly devoid of life and yet herds of wild ponies roamed unfettered upon the moor. A falcon circled overhead, and in the distance, those purple-gray storm clouds swept ever closer, like winged dragons soaring upon the wind.

  He climbed in the coach, feeling the sudden jolt as the matched bays lurched forward, and the wheels began to roll upon the rutted road.

  Yes, he was eager to reach the castle before nightfall and find the girl.

  He’d even given her a name in his dreams.

  Aislin.

  Did she exist?

  Chapter Two

  The sun glistened upon the ruined towers of Tintagel Castle as William hiked up the steps toward it later that afternoon. The turquoise ocean swirled beneath the pile of crumbled stone with powerful and deadly force. He heard the crash of waves against the cliff face and the roar as the wall of water swept into the hollow caves.

  He’d spent the better part of an hour exploring these ruins in search of the girl. “Folly,” he’d muttered to himself more than once. Still, he wanted to remain longer and search again around the tumbling castle and the cliff walks. But he was a practical man by nature and knew he ought first to settle his belongings at the inn his coachman’s family ran in Boscastle.

  He would return here tomorrow.

  And the day after that.

  As many days as necessary.

  He also planned to ride to Polzeath and Port Isaac.

  Not now, however. He was hot, and his throat was parched. One more turn through the remains of the castle and he’d be off, he decided with no small disappointment.

  He walked back up the hill, breathing in the salty sea air that was so familiar and comforting to him.

  He’d almost drowned in those turbulent waters, and yet he still loved it.

  All his brothers had loved the sea, except Thomas, the eldest, who had first inherited the baronial title and the entailed estates that came along with it. Ironic that Thomas detested everything about the water, even though the family had gained its wealth from the shipping trade.

  William was now Baron Whitpool since his brother’s death. But before then, he had often sailed on his family’s merchant fleet. Even after stepping into the title, he’d continued to sail, less frequently because of all the other Whitpool affairs that required his attention.

  But the sea would never leave his soul.

  Nor would Aislin, assuming she ever existed.

  A bird cawed overhead.

  He shaded his eyes and watched it spread its black wings against the azure sky. “A raven,” he muttered, shaking his head as he continued to the castle, for they were often considered a bad omen.

  He hurried along, even though the sun would remain high on the horizon well into the night. However, Boscastle would take an hour or more to reach.

  He had to leave now to arrive in daylight.

  Another few minutes and I’ll go.

  Were the other visitors presently wandering the grounds as fascinated as he was wit
h this place? He expected they were, but for other reasons. They sought to tread where kings and mages of legend were rumored to have walked before them. Perhaps they imagined Merlin and Guinevere and the knights of King Arthur’s court surrounding them and welcoming them into the castle.

  He nodded to several ladies and gentlemen he encountered along the path. One of them was a frail looking man with a shock of white hair and a walking cane. But he’d managed to climb the steps, no feat possible unless one was relatively hale.

  He watched the man hobble to a waiting carriage, then shrugged to dismiss him from his thoughts. He was more interested in finding the girl who’d led him here.

  Even now, he felt the pull of his dreams as fiercely as an ocean tide.

  Aislin, where are you?

  His skin prickled.

  The air around him began to sizzle.

  How could he possibly sense her presence?

  He shook out of the laughable thought.

  And yet, he ached to find her and know she was real, for she was his only link to those lost memories.

  As he approached one of the towers amid the ruins, a girl suddenly appeared in its archway. He blinked. She disappeared just as suddenly as she had come into sight. He would have thought nothing of it, only she had the look of Aislin, her hair long and dark and worn unbound. Those silken strands swirled around her body as the wind blew through them, just as he’d imagined in his dreams.

  He ran toward the arch, but there was no sign of anyone by the time he reached it. He wanted to call out her name. Aislin! Aislin!

  Everyone would believe he was mad to be chasing after a wraith.