Chapter Eleven
Oliver felt his temper rise, but tried not to show it. He was fast running out of patience for this entire absurd escapade. And since the spectral visitors were from his side of the family, there was also a measure of embarrassment mixed in with his rising anger.
“We are doing our very best, great-grandfather,” he announced sternly. “You will have to forgive us if we’re not as readily accustomed to holding conversations with dead people as some others you might have contacted.”
Ally nodded. “He does have a point, you know.”
Lord Arthur sagged a little. “How sad. But yes, I suppose I’ll have to agree. Of course, if you’d found and read the Book of Rowan some years ago…” he caught himself up. “Never mind. Too late for that now.”
“It’s a different age, sir.” Oliver’s heart slowed down to a more normal rhythm. “We’re making great advances in industry. Developing new techniques for coping with diseases. Art, poetry…all thriving.”
“I know, I know. But it’s hard to see people lose their fascination with what I suppose you’d call magic. Or mysticism. Belief in the powers of the unknown universe. Minds are closing to infinite possibilities, Oliver. A tragic loss”
“Mesmerism is becoming quite the thing,” offered Ally.
“Pah.” The response was immediate. “Silly stuff. People clucking like chickens. I’m talking real magic, girl. The ability to see into the future, to travel to the past. To do what I’m doing now…speak to those who matter. Who will always matter. Blood relatives who care about family.”
“How do you do it?”
Oliver sensed Ally growing increasingly bold and interested, which didn’t surprise him, although it made him a tad uneasy.
However, his great-grandfather’s face creased into a grin. “There, you see? I knew she was the right one for you. Not a woman to shy away from her own curiosity, but one who will ask the questions that need to be asked, and clearly ready for the answers.” He nodded approvingly.
“So…” Ally tilted her head to one side. “How is it done?”
“Oh, I can’t tell you that. Sorry.”
Oliver blew out a breath and glanced down at Ally, who leaned comfortably against his chest. “You had to ask.”
She nodded and rolled her eyes. “I did. I suppose I got what I expected.”
“In truth, I cannot tell you, young lady. The knowledge of such things is not for mortals.” His gaze drifted to the volume they still held. “The Book. That’s what started it, but much of what it taught applies to a time and place you two will not occupy for many years to come.”
“And the chalices? Why four?” Oliver glanced at them. “Mrs Bartholomew showed us two of them…”
“Ah yes, old Jenny. A strong practitioner with a will of iron.” He grinned at the memory.
“She wouldn’t allow us to do anything at all unless she was included.
Turned out that she was the most powerful of us all.
She and her daughter summoned two of the chalices, and a friend and I summoned the other two.
Once we’d done that, the Book of Rowan appeared on my bookshelf and from then on it was all about learning the mysteries of other worlds. ”
“Does that mean…” Ally chewed her bottom lip for a moment or two, “does that mean that there are lots of you…er…spirits…floating around, waiting for the right time to show themselves?”
“God, there’s a frightening thought.” Oliver gave a little mock shudder. “You met my mother’s late aunt, didn’t you? Lady Thorndyke? Bit of an old battle-axe?”
“I have,” she chuckled. “And yes, if she came back as an apparition, it would scare the daylights out of me.”
Lord Arthur tapped his spectral foot. “If you two have quite finished?”
“Well, you’ll just have to forgive us,” said Ally. “After all, my Lord, you have eternity to wander around in, and you’re used to this entire thing, I would suppose. For us, it’s the first – and hopefully the only – experience we’ll ever have with the…um…otherworldly stuff.”
The ghost snorted. “Otherworldly stuff? You’re speaking of miracles you cannot begin to imagine, child.”
“I am aware.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I must give you some leeway, young woman, but still. I’d hoped for better.”
Moving away from the end of the bed, Lord Arthur sort of drifted to the mantelpiece and stared at the chalices.
“These are very special. I know I cannot explain how or why to you, not in any way you’d understand, but always remember that you have been gifted with something few mortals will ever know or see. ”
“I think we’ve already come to that conclusion, great-grandfather.” Oliver’s tone was a tad wry.
“Well then, my work here is completed. I have done everything I can to make it easy for you to locate my treasure. And yet, where is it? I see no Blood of Amaryllis in your hands? Time is running out, lad. Even with my powers, I cannot stay any longer. You still have time, though, so please…put an old man’s heart at ease and find it. Put it where it belongs.”
Both he and the chalices began to waver.
“Oh no, please…don’t leave yet…” Ally held out a hand. “I have so many questions…”
Lord Arthur shook his head, his appearance growing fainter by the moment. “I cannot, dear girl. Would that I could, but I cannot. You two must go on now. Live your lives. Find my treasure for me and, above all, be happy.”
“Great-grandfather…” Oliver’s voice cracked with emotion. “I’m – I’m glad I met you.”
The old man’s laughter rippled over them. “As am I, lad. As am I.”
And he was gone, a small but brilliant flash of light temporarily robbing both of them of their sight. When Ally opened her eyes again, the room was empty but for the two of them and the book had vanished.
“The chalices have gone too,” she sighed, then turned to Oliver. “Did all that just happen?”
He shook his head. “I simply don’t know.”
“At least he could have given us a clue,” complained Oliver.
“He did say he didn’t see it in our hands,” replied Ally. “So that, in and of itself, is a clue. It’s small enough to hold.”
“Hmph.”
“Well, I think it was a clue.” She closed her eyes for a moment, yawning behind her hand, trying to hide her fatigue.
“You’re as tired as I am,” he said gently. “Why not lie down for a bit? The bed’s here, the room’s warm…”
“And if I lie down, I will be asleep in less than five minutes,” she confessed. “It’s tempting, though.”
“It’s still snowing, believe it or not. If it keeps up, we’ll be stuck here for days, so I can’t see any reason for us not to get some sleep, can you?”
“I suppose not.” She eyed the bed. “I saw that nightgown that Mrs Bartholomew left me, but truly I wouldn’t be comfortable wearing it.”
“And we’ll bank the fire, but it might not last the night, so other than removing my boots, I’m simply going to lie down as I am.”
“Very well, then.”
Ally sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to unfasten her slippers. She felt the mattress dip as Oliver sat on the other side and, with quite a bit of effort, managed to tug off his boots.
“Will you snuff the candles?” She pulled back the covers.
“Ouch.”
“What?”
“I stepped on a bit of log that must have fallen from the hearth.” He hopped around a little, then sat again and rubbed his foot.
Ally made herself as comfortable as she could, fluffing the pillows. “It’s not bad,” she observed, tucking the quilt snugly around her toes. “Quite warm.”
“That’s good.” Oliver made his way cautiously to the candles and blew out most of them, leaving two burning on the little table on his side of the bed. Then he pushed the rest of the covers back and slid in beside her.
“This is rather nice,” she sighed. “Listening to the wind and snow, and yet being warm and snug indoors.”
“Surely you’ve done such a thing before?”
“Not in a storm like this,” she answered. “And somehow, being in a small inn makes it all seem much more dramatic. At home, storms rattle the rafters too, I suppose, but we don’t hear it the way we do here.”
“And it’s Christmas Eve, or perhaps even Christmas Day, by now,” he mused, settling himself next to her. “D’you think anyone would mind if you came a bit closer?”
She hid a grin. “Since there’s no one here, I doubt it would cause any scandal.”
Slithering over the short distance between them, she found his arm waiting to cuddle her, and a spot on his shoulder that seemed designed for her head. Resting her hand on his chest, she felt the warmth of his body and heard the steady thump of his heart. “This is nice,” she murmured.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Oliver…”
“Ally…”
He rose a little, his face close to hers, and she surrendered to the urge to lift her hand and cup his cheek as her gaze drifted to his mouth. “Kiss me, Oliver.”
“Kiss me back, Ally.”
It took no more than that.
Entwined, their lips met, their bodies touched from chest to toe, and Ally lost herself in the intensity and the sensations of their embrace.
She knew now what passions his touch could incite, how her skin shivered with excitement, how his taste seemed to flood her with desires that rapidly grew out of control.
She moved a little, encouraging him to lie almost on top of her, her hands once more untucking his shirt and finding the heat of his skin beneath.
Moans, murmurs, soft sounds of pleasure mixed with the crackle of the fire. All was wonder, joy, the thrill of feeling a man’s weight crushing her, of parting her legs to allow him the comfort of lying between them.
And then…
“Ouch.” She froze.
“What? Did I hurt you?” Oliver eased back, leaning to one side and gazing at her face.
“No…not you,” she fidgeted. “There’s something hard beneath me. It dug into my neck just now.”
Oliver slid away from her and she lifted up, twisting around to tug the offending pillow out of the way. Both of them paused at the sight of a small leather box, settled into a dent in the mattress.
“Good God.” He reached out a finger and delicately touched it.
“Is it…could it be?”
“I suppose it could. Should we find out?”
Ally swallowed. “I think we should. Actually, I believe you should, Oliver. If it’s the treasure, then it’s yours from your great-grandfather.”
“All right then.”
They both sat up, staring at their find, Oliver seeming hesitant.
“Go on. It’s only a box. I doubt it will bite you.”
“After what we’ve been through these last hours, Ally, do you blame me for not wanting to rush into opening it?”
She couldn’t help but nod. “No, I don’t, but perhaps this is why we’re here. So…” she made a sort of flittering move with her fingers. “Go ahead. It’s now or never.”
He took a deep breath and reached for the box, picking it up and resting it on the palm of his hand. “So far, so good. It’s not very heavy.”
“Do you want to move closer to the candle?” She shifted her position, coming up close beside him on her knees as they both moved toward the light on the bedside table.
“Here we go then.” Oliver carefully unlatched the tiny hook that held lid to base, and eased it open. It was hinged, so the top remained in place as the interior was revealed.
This time, it was Ally’s turn to suck in a quick breath.
Resting on soft white velvet cloth inside the box was a ring, but not one that resembled anything she’d ever seen before.
“Oliver,” she whispered. “How extraordinary.”
The setting was simple, a gold oval on a plain band. But inside the oval was a carved stone; it appeared to be some sort of heraldic engraving, richly detailed and catching the candlelight, reflecting it back as if there was a fire burning within.
“I believe it’s very old,” Oliver said, turning it beneath the light. “I’ve seen one or two of these in museums. A carnelian. Much loved of ancient civilisations because it can be carved.”
“My word,” she stared at it, glowing in its pristine nest. “It looks as if it was made yesterday, doesn’t it?”
“And yet my great-grandfather bought it. I’ll wager it was ancient then. The Blood of Amaryllis. It suits it, I think.” He studied it closely. “Yes, look. There’s a flower in the engraving. Would it resemble the one you remember?”
“Indeed it does. And that blood red shade…so beautiful.”
“I’ve seen snuffboxes with some carved carnelian ornamentation, but none as fine as this, nor as large.”
“Well.” Ally rested back on the bed, fluffing up the pillow beneath her head. “This has to be the treasure, doesn’t it? I can’t imagine what else would even come close.”
“Agreed,” Oliver nodded. “Now all I have to do is put it where it belongs.”
“Oh God,” moaned Ally. “Could that wait until morning? I am really tired. Too tired to go all over this place again.”
He chuckled, and then took the ring from the box, turning it once more near the candlelight. He glanced at her, such warmth in his eyes that her breath caught in her throat.
What was going through his mind at that moment? She had no idea. But one thing was certain. She could lie here for hours under his gaze and return it with one of her own.
“Ally.”
“Yes?” She managed to get the word past whatever emotion was threatening to choke her.
“I know where this ring belongs.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “Give me your hand.”
She held it out.
“The other one.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She held out her left hand.
He slid the ring on her third finger. “Marry me. Don’t say no this time, because you know it’s right. We’ve found each other again and I will not lose you this time.”
Her heart stopped for a few moments as she felt the ring slide down over her knuckle to rest comfortably against her hand. It was as if it had been made just for her.
Then she looked up at Oliver. And nothing mattered but the love she saw in his eyes.
“I’ll marry you, Oliver. Yes. Yes…oh God, yes.”
And the world around them faded away to nothingness. All that was left was a deep, rich chuckle that neither of them, locked as they were in a very heated and passionate kiss, could hear.