Accursed Abbey_A Steamy Gothic Romance Novel by T. S. Candle

Author:T. S. Candle [Candle, T. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 177265017X
Amazon: B07871Z5LT
Publisher: Winding Path Books
Published: 2018-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 41

Lord Canterbourne caught Elizabeth by the collar of her dress before she fell. With his other arm he reached to take the gun from her hand, and struck Mrs. Grissoni again. She once more fell unconscious.

He could feel the powdered drug taking effect. He stumbled.

“Use that rope to tie these two up,” Canterbourne commanded Tonner, blinking his eyes at the flashes of colour that appeared before them. “Then we must get back into town.” He could feel his heartbeat slowing. “Can you turn the carrriage around?”

“Yes, my lord. I shall have to roll this cart out of our path first, then take the carriage up to that wider spot.” Tonner gestured up the road. “But it can be done.”

“Good.” Canterbourne pulled Miss Whitely over to a large rock, so he might lean his sluggish body against it as he held her. “Go as fast as you can. I will try to stay awake, but we have been drugged, it seems, with I know not what noxious substance.”

Canterbourne's vision swam. “If we are senseless when you return, get us into that carriage, even if you have to drag us. Drive us back to my place in town, and do not stop for anyone.”

“Yes, my lord.”

As Tonner drove away to turn the carriage around, a surge of euphoria washed over Canterbourne. Things were not so bad, after all. He had proposed to the woman he loved, and she had accepted and was now in his arms. He squeezed her affectionately and looked into her dozing face. Even scratched and stained from the many bizarre affronts she had suffered, she was lovely.

His heart filled with a rush of lemon-amber warmth, as though it lay happily basking in a sunbeam on a window bench in a summer cottage. He was so brilliantly happy. He bent down and kissed Miss Whitely's soft lips. They felt like cashmere and tasted like honey and cinnamon.

She stirred and smiled at him as he pulled back to behold her again. Her eyes were wide and inviting, and the dilation of her pupils gave her a sensual look. “I love you, Miss Whitely,” he whispered.

“And I you. Only you must call me Elizabeth now.” She giggled.

“Elizabeth.” His voice was full of admiration. “What a beautiful name.”

She sighed and wriggled in closer to his chest, which made his heart beat madly. “What shall I call you?” she asked.

“Absolutely anything you want to.” He was almost breathless.

“Prince Charming would be apropos.” She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.

This one intimate gesture brought Canterbourne’s heart to a full boil and filled his body with a molten stream of desire.

“But,” she continued, “it does not seem familiar enough. I want to call you something that draws you very close to me.” She smiled. “Something that makes you feel, in your heart, that I am entirely yours.”

He was wordless a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. “My name is Maximilian, but you may call me Mill. It is what my closest friends and my mother call me.

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