She tipped her head, her eyes locked with his. “Beyond the boundaries of Nimway Hall, the local people have always been suspicious and wary of…things not readily explained.”
He nodded. “I have to wonder if this is one of those instances, and they used the term ‘bale’ as the only one they knew for an old and powerful force, despite that force not being evil.”
She lightly shrugged. She studied his eyes, then softly said, “There’s no point thinking too much about such things—we’re not supposed to know. Life and love are abiding mysteries and will remain so, no matter the striving of mortal men.”
Richard’s arms were firm about her. He held her gaze, then let his lips quirk upward. “Is that your way of suggesting we’ve spoken enough of what led us to this point?”
She laughed. “Indeed.” Over his shoulder, she scanned the room. “The household worked hard to refurnish this chamber—they polished and cleaned and painted so that all was made new for us. It’s their wedding gift, intending this to be the one place that’s solely ours for the rest of our days.” Her gaze returned to his face, and her lips lifted, a seductively teasing light twinkling in her eyes. “I believe it’s incumbent on us to appropriately lay claim to it.”
He laughed and swept her into his arms. He whirled her about, then made for the bed.
They fell onto the brocade coverlet. With laughter and smiles and joyous abandon, they shed their clothes, then fell on each other—fell into each other, both surrendering, without hesitation or restraint, to the power that linked them, now and forever.
With gasps and shudders, with moans and bone-deep groans of pleasure, they worshipped at the altar of what linked them.
They now knew the ways—the pathways of love—and followed them with devotion and reverence. They took, and gave, seized, and surrendered.
Through the searing heat of passion, through the fires of desire, they rode hand in hand, body to body, heart to heart, and reached—certain and sure—for all they wanted of life. Of love.
Unchecked, desire raged, fed by them both, and passion soared, then reached its zenith, fracturing their senses, and ecstasy claimed them.
For one instant, they hung, linked by destiny and a power beyond reckoning, souls fused beyond reclaiming…and they wanted it all, together they embraced it all, then they fell.
Slowly circling through the void.
Back to earth, to the comfort of silken sheets and the soul-deep pleasure of being in each other’s arms.
It seemed like, and might have been, hours before Richard stirred. Jacqueline lay boneless beneath him, deeply asleep. He lifted from her, disengaged, then slumped beside her.
For a moment, he simply lay on his back beside his sleeping wife and marveled at how his life had played out. He was, finally, whole and content—enough to know that he had never before been content at all. Yet in that moment of suspended connection with the world, the revelation that hung at the forefront of his mind was that tonight and the day that would soon dawn was and would be their true beginning.
All that had come before was their past. Tomorrow’s dawn would see their future start.
Emotions far more active than contentment poured through him at the prospect—eager anticipation, determination, and a joyful happiness. A readiness to engage and make their shared life all it could possibly be.
Beyond all doubt, he had finally found his way to where he belonged.
Smiling to himself, he came up on his elbow to reach for the sheets lying tangled at their feet—and his gaze fell on the orb.
As before, it sat on Jacqueline’s dressing table, placed, as it always seemed to be, in a spot where the moonlight would reach it. But now, the moon had sailed across the sky far enough for the shaft of silvery light that struck through the window to have moved well beyond the orb.
It sat on the dressing table, untouched by moonlight. And still, it glowed.
Richard stared at the unearthly radiance lighting the moonstone. Steady and sure, it was strong enough to cast faint light across the room all the way to where he and Jacqueline lay abed.
Hardly daring to breathe, he stared.
Then he forced his lungs to expand, drew in a long, deep breath, and made a mental note to have someone who understood such things examine the moonstone. It was a stone, a physical entity—there had to be some explanation.
He drew up the sheet and lay down; beneath the silk, he drew Jacqueline to him, smiling again as she murmured incoherently, then snuggled against his side.
The warmth of her body sank into his, drawing his thoughts from the orb. He closed his eyes as sleep again reached for him, and he allowed himself to sink into Morpheus’s arms.
The trill of birdcall woke Jacqueline and Richard the next morn. Their new apartment lay closer to the wood than her old chamber, and as they blinked their eyes wide, they discovered the day had long ago dawned in all its glory.
Jacqueline glanced at Richard, now her husband in all ways, and met his eyes.
He smiled and lifted his head to kiss her, and for several minutes, they lay, relaxed and at peace, and swapped murmured observations from the previous day—of his family, her people, and their perfect celebration.
Both were so deeply happy, it was a wrench to yield to the beckoning of duty, yet they could hear the odd clatter and clang from downstairs.
Eventually, reluctantly, they rose.
Jacqueline headed for her armoire, beside her dressing table, then halted and stared at the dressing table’s top. She frowned, then glanced at Richard. “I thought the orb was here.”
His head whipped around. His gaze went beyond her, and he, too, stared at the orb-less expanse.
After a moment—a very long moment—he raised his eyes and met her gaze. “I saw it there last night—or early this morning. I can’t be certain of the hour.” He stepped toward her, then came to stand beside her. His fingers tangled with hers as they both stared at where the orb had been. He drew in a tight breath, then said, “When I saw it, it was glowing.”
“In the moonlight?”
“No. The moon had passed. It was…glowing on its own.”
After a moment, she reached out with her free hand and ran her fingers over the spot where the orb had stood.
“No one came into the room and took it,” Richard murmured. “I can swear to that.”
She believed him. Tentatively, she suggested, “I suppose we could hunt for it. It must be somewhere in the house, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps.” Richard closed his hand about hers and gently squeezed. “But I predict that, even though we might hunt high and low, we’ll never find it.” He released her hand, put his arm around her shoulders, drew her against him, and pressed a kiss to her temple.
She sighed and leaned into him. “I suppose that, as it did for me—for us—it’ll turn up when it wants to be found.”
Their evolving understanding of the orb and what its appearance and disappearance meant hung between them, unstated.
“Very likely.” Hugging her to him, Richard repeated her words of the night. “There’s no point thinking too much about such things—we’re not supposed to know. Life and love are abiding mysteries and will remain so, no matter the striving of mortal men.”
She held still, savoring the words, then turned her head and, at close quarters, met his eyes.
The look they exchanged carried acceptance and commitment.
“My lady? M’lady?” A scratching sounded at the door, then Young Willie’s voice rose more certainly, “The mare’s foaling. Hopkins said as you and his lordship would want to know.”
Jacqueline laughed. “Thank you, Young Willie, and thank Hopkins for sending word—his lordship and I will be there shortly.”
“Aye, miss—I mean, my lady.”
She chuckled; her household was determined to make all due use of her new station.
As Young Willie’s clattering footsteps receded, she brought her gaze back to Richard’s face.
&
nbsp; “Clearly,” he said, smiling down at her, “our joint life has begun, and we need to catch up.”
“Indeed.” She stretched upward and lightly touched her lips to his, then drew back, and he let her go. “We’d better get dressed and go down.”
Richard saw no reason to argue. Smiling, he reached for his clothes and felt a glow of expectation spread through him.
He was looking forward to the day.
To this day and all that would follow—all the days he would spend by Jacqueline’s side as the defender of the guardian of Nimway Hall.
THE END
Dear Reader,
The Legend of Nimway Hall is something different—six authors telling tales-through-the-ages of generations of women in one particular family born to magic, each fated to find their one true love. I hope you’ve enjoyed the first in the series—1750: Jacqueline. If you feel inclined to leave a review on your retailer’s product page, I would greatly appreciate it.
And now for the fun part—the first four volumes in the series are to be released a week apart, commencing with this book, to be followed a week later by 1794: Charlotte by Karen Hawkins, which in turn will be followed by 1818: Isabel by Suzanne Enoch, and 1940: Jocelyn by Linda Needham. Expect further volumes in the series, including 1888: Alexandra by Victoria Alexander and 1926: Maddie Rose by Susan Andersen.
See below for descriptions of the installments to come, and plunge deeper into The Legend of Nimway Hall to learn more of the strange powers of Balesboro Wood, the mysterious orb, and of Nimway Hall, the house itself. Finding love was never so much fun as the unexpected twists and turns that steer, guide, and prod the descendants of Merlin and Nimue into the arms of their one true loves.
Enjoy!
Stephanie.
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COMING NEXT IN THE LEGEND OF NIMWAY HALL:
The second installment
1794: CHARLOTTE by Karen Hawkins
To be released on March 22, 2018.
New York Times bestselling author Karen Hawkins writes a ravishing addition to an exciting series of romances touched by magic as old as time.
A properly raised young lady rebels against the restrictions of both society and family when she meets a dark, dangerous, and wildly passionate man as they both fight to resist their forbidden love…and the seductive pull of an ancient magic.
Miss Charlotte Harrington knows what’s expected of her. Properly raised and newly reminded of her duties after the unexpected death of her far-more-perfect twin sister, Charlotte is resigned to wedding the son of a neighboring land owner and live a sedate and proper life. But Charlotte’s high spirits will not be contained and she yearns deeply for a life of adventure, excitement, and love.
When wild and untamed Marco di Rossi arrives at Nimway Hall, commissioned to carve a masterpiece for the family home, he finds himself instantly drawn to the far-from-subdued Charlotte. Despite the potential ruin to his own brilliant career, he cannot resist her spirit and beauty, nor the call of the deep, wild magic that resides within a mysterious and magical orb hidden deep in the walls of the ancient house of Nimway…
A historical novel of 57,000 words interweaving romance, mystery, and magic.
Pre-order/Buy & Read 1794: CHARLOTTE
AND THE LEGEND OF NIMWAY HALL CONTINUES WITH:
The third installment
1818: ISABEL by Suzanne Enoch
To be released on March 29, 2018.
New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Enoch spins a Regency-era tale at Nimway Hall, in a book series centered on a house where love and magic entwine to bring romance to all who dwell there.
A passionate, determined young lady trying to prove herself worthy of a timeless, magic-touched legacy and a steadfast gentleman looking for his own place in the world join forces to restore an abandoned estate to its former glory.
The moment Isabel de Rossi turns eighteen, she insists on taking charge of Nimway Hall, which has stood empty for the past ten years. Well-aware that all her female forebears found true love at Nimway, she can’t wait to discover her own destined match. Instead she’s faced with Adam Driscoll, the infuriatingly practical estate manager whose presence is a constant, insulting reminder that her own grandmother thinks she has no idea what she’s doing.
Adam thought the recent offer of a position at Nimway Hall a godsend. After spending six years managing his elderly uncle’s estate he is at a crossroads, facing either a dreary career in the army or the church. At Nimway he can continue working with his hands, his feet firmly on the ground and his mind on practical matters of crops, millstones, and irrigation. He revels in the chance to restore this estate to its former glory as the well-run marvel of Somerset—even though several mysterious setbacks have befallen his efforts.
The last complication he needs is a quirky, foreign-raised heiress intent on finding a magical orb and interfering with his well-laid plans; but practical Adam can’t help noticing that in her presence the repairs are suddenly going well, and that the pretty mistress of the Hall is clever, amusing, and genuinely interested in improving her estate and the lives of her tenants.
Despite their conflicting sensibilities he finds it hard to resist their simmering attraction. At the same time Adam is keenly aware that the more he helps Isabel with the estate the closer he is to assisting himself out of his position—and away from her.
Despite herself, Isabel is reluctantly drawn to Adam’s quiet strength and dedication, but has begun to wonder if she somehow isn’t worthy of becoming the property’s guardian; though she searches everywhere for evidence of magic, the famous orb—the artifact reputedly responsible for every love match made at Nimway Hall, including her own parents’—is nowhere to be found…until dreamy Lord Alton from the neighboring estate arrives and starts to pursue Isabel. The pesky orb suddenly appears, though it seems to have a preference for Adam’s room.
For a young lady in need of some polish, the choice between a charming viscount and a headstrong, interfering employee should be a simple one, but magic is a stubborn thing—and the heart is even more headstrong.
Pre-order/Buy & Read 1818: ISABEL
AND
The fourth installment
1940: JOCELYN by Linda Needham
To be released on April 5, 2018.
USA Today bestselling author Linda Needham brings you the fourth story in a series of romances touched by magic as old as time.
A courageous young woman is just managing to keep up with her family's vast, wartime farm when a handsome Lt. Colonel and his staff of officers take command of her home. A private war ensues between them, and the couple soon learns that resistance is futile when it comes to love in the heat of battle.
World War II has come to Nimway Hall, and with it an endless series of wartime challenges that its lady and guardian, Josie Stirling, must overcome. As passionate and courageous as each of the guardians who have come before her, Josie is fiercely determined to defend her family’s ancient estate from all possible threats. But with the recent evacuation of Dunkirk and the bombs of the Blitz raining random terror all across Britain, even the once-pastoral manor farm of Nimway has become as dangerous as any battlefield.
Loved and respected by everyone in her circle of care, Josie is knee-deep in evacuee children, Land Girls, the local Home Guard, a much-reduced estate staff, two cranky tractors and her wi
dowed father she has just rescued from the London Blitz. Her days and nights, and even her dreams are chock-full of wartime charity fund raisers, meeting the strict requirements of the Ministries of Agriculture and Food, organizing knitting circles, leading her local WVS, tending the acres of orchards, the mill, and fields of grain and defending her beloved Baleswood from the Timber Commission.
To add to her problems, not only has the military requisitioned an entire wing of Nimway Hall, they’ve sent the most arrogant officer in the entire army to command the unit and impose his orders on the finely-tuned workings of the estate. A man as arrogant as he is handsome. Not that Josie has time in her life to notice!
The very last post Lt. Colonel Gideon Fletchard ever wanted was to be holed up in the wilds of Somerset, in an old manor house, far from the front line. But he was seriously injured on a secret mission early in the war and has recovered just enough to command a team of Royal Engineers, commissioned to build operational bases for Churchill’s new Secret Army. Once a highly respected intelligence officer, Gideon resents his demotion to the “Home Front” and has little respect for the so-called civilian army he’s been assigned to recruit and train. War is waged by soldiers in the field, not by farmers and factory workers.