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- Herausgeber: Incantatrix Press
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Running scared has never felt so good.
The prospect of a night in a haunted folly terrifies Alastair de Vere almost as much as admitting the depth of his feelings for his cousin’s dashing fiancé. Love between men is utterly forbidden, but Jude captivates him in a way no woman ever has. Confessing the attraction could gain or lose him everything.
When a spirit seeking to end a century of torment takes possession of Jude, Alastair must face his deepest fears, for only by surrendering to fate can he hope to win freedom for them both.
Pure Folly is a M/M romance featuring a venegful ghost, a bisexual awakening, and a night in a spooky gothic tower.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
About the Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Need more Forbidden Loves?
More Scandalous Seductions
Other Books by Madelynne Ellis
About Madelynne Ellis
PURE FOLLY
By
Madelynne Ellis
www.madelynne-ellis.com
Copyright © Madelynne Ellis 2015.
Edited by S Haller.
Cover Art by Clarissa Yeo of Yocla Designs
www.madelynne-ellis.com/
First Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound.
This revised and re-edited edition published by Incantatrix Press in 2015.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or to events or places is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
To G—for providing endless inspiration.
And, to Wendy, Allison, & Jeanette for your friendship and critiques.
About the Book
PURE FOLLY ~ Running scared has never felt so good.
The prospect of a night in a haunted folly terrifies Alastair de Vere almost as much as admitting the depth of his feelings for his cousin's dashing fiancé. Love between men is utterly forbidden, but Jude captivates him in a way no woman ever has. Confessing the attraction could gain or lose him everything.
When a spirit seeking to end a century of torment takes possession of Jude, Alastair must face his deepest fears, for only by surrendering to fate can he hope to win freedom for them both.
Other titles in the Forbidden Loves series:
The Kissing Bough
Keep up to date with all Madelynne’s new releases by joining her Newsletter.
Chapter One
“Whose damn fool idea was this?”
Hand artfully raised and cradling a sherry glass, Alastair Romilly de Vere viewed the towering gothic structure with a mixture of reverence and distaste. There were few other buildings that inspired such a strong reaction of dislike in his being. Bricks and mortar were rarely the enemy of man, rather the folk who inhabited them were the problem, the temple being the absolute exception to that rule.
Why had he allowed himself to become embroiled in this pointless dare? He didn’t give a jot if his family, or society as a whole, thought he lacked bottom.
Could he do this? Could he go back in there? Sixteen long years had passed since he’d last ventured across the folly’s threshold. He’d been a mere boy the last time, seven years old and not a care in the world. Yet the horror he’d known still visited him.
Alexander would laugh to know it—Alexander, his elder brother, who had locked Alastair and their sister, Viola, inside the tower, then sat back and laughed at their panicked shrieks.
So long ago, and yet the events seeped seamlessly into the present. Despite the external heat from a blazing summer sun, the inside of the temple had been cool that day—its sublime arched interior filled with shadows. He hadn’t felt fear at first, just awe at the sweeping majesty of the place. Only when the heat crawled through the building, causing the hairs upon the back of his neck to rise, had he cried out in fear.
Ghosts! The temple had a full roster of ghosts, and at seven, he believed in every one of them. As an adult, he could rationalise the sudden temperature increase as the effect of sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows as the sun reached its zenith. At least he told himself that’s what had happened. Convinced himself that the sunlight, and not possession by an otherworldly presence had triggered his sister’s convulsions.
Viola—his beautiful and fragile sister had never been quite right since. Out of his depth on that day, he’d watched her flop about on the stone floor like dying fish. He’d screamed so hard that he hadn’t spoken for a week after their release.
Curiously, his presence here tonight was partially Viola’s doing. She, along with his cousin, Charlotte, had issued the dare to spend the night in the temple. He couldn’t fathom her motive any more than he could fathom his own reservations.
Eyes shielded from the low sun, Alastair leered up at the grotesque stone demons perched above. It was said that you could see across three counties from the top of each of the temple’s three spiked towers. A magnificent view he was sure, save he could barely look at the stout entryway without gagging.
Damn it! He swallowed another gulp of sack. The sweet wine failed to lend him any courage. If it weren’t for his companion, he’d tolerate the loss of face and call the whole thing off.
Alastair’s gaze swept towards the gathering shadows before the temple door where his friend stood. Jude Leveson, the perfect cipher for all that was missing in his soul.
Jude the jubilant. Jude the fair. Jude the man he couldn’t bear to be around and couldn’t stand to be apart from.
Alastair’s lip curled—there was no easy escape from this nightmare. He’d simply have to stand tall and face both demons fully armed. He turned about, seeking the decanter he’d left behind in the parlour, craving a refill. Tonight, alcohol would have to serve in place of a pistol. He didn’t trust himself with the latter, having nearly shot himself in the foot the previous week.
“Whatever’s the hold up, Alastair?” Jude leaned casually against the stout, iron-pinned door, holding a picnic hamper. He raised one knee and balanced the hamper upon it while he searched in his waistcoat pocket for the key. “It’s all codswallop, you realise, this nonsense about ghosts. There are no real ghosts. It’s just a bunch of tales told to you as children in order to keep you out of this derelict mausoleum. So a little less gloom please, and maybe we’ll make merry hell of this wager.”
“Perhaps.”
With a sharp click that resembled a rifle shot, the lock released. Jude gave the ring handle a good twist and the door swung inwards on wailing hinges, dislodging a grey mantle of cobwebs. “Creepy.” He dusted away the silky strands. “I say, Alastair, this place does have beds, doesn’t it? Two blankets won’t provide much comfort, and the only scrambling about on the floor I favour is Greek wrestling.”
Beds. There were, unfortunately, beds. There wouldn’t be any wrestling.
Alastair clapped his companion across the back and ushered him into the stone folly. “That’s what the six bottles of elderberry wine are for. Any beds in here are probably riddled with damp and fleas.”
“If that’s what the wine’s for, what’s the brandy for?”
Alastair kicked the door closed. “Desperate times.” This moment being one of them.
They were in. Unease snaked through his innards as he reclaimed the key and locked the door. Bending, he slipped the hip flask from the top of his Hessian boot and attempted to soothe his nerves with a long swig before stowing it back betwixt stocking and leather. The alcohol merely excited the snake in his guts. “Shall we survey our domain?” He gestured towards the central chamber. He’d maintain a façade of calm if it killed him.
“A toast first.” Jude drew a bottle from the hamper and raised it high. “To foolish wagers, may we win them and reap the luscious rewards.” He applied his teeth to the cork, and spat it into a shadowy corner, leaving Alastair with the strange urge to fetch.
Instead, he glanced at his pocket watch. Eight o’clock. Twelve hours to go. It wasn’t as if there was anything to gain from this little endeavour beyond a little respect because he never wagered more than sixpence against a woman.
“So, the purpose of this place? Favourite trysting spot, I’m guessing,” Jude said.
Alastair shook his head. “There isn’t a purpose to it. My great grandfather simply had a fondness for oddities. There are several follies dotted about the estate.”
“I still say he entertained here.”
“I doubt it. His eccentricity encompassed his attitude to ladies in addition to architecture. He preferred to keep them at a distance. Said one had cost him his leg in Lauffeld, and he wasn’t risking the other. We should probably be grateful Charlotte suggested a night here, and not in the leg’s mausoleum. He brought it back to England and gave it its own burial.”
“It’s cold enough in here to be a mausoleum.” Jude rubbed some warmth into his arms causing the fabric of his coat to bunch around his biceps.
“How’s the wine?” Alastair asked, trying not to stare at his companion. He glanced about at their surroundings, but it was damn difficult to keep his gaze from straying back to Jude.
“Good.” Jude’s hazel-green eyes shone brightly in the gloomy half-light. As he passed the bottle to Alastair, their fingers briefly brushed, evoking a jolt of arousal in the pit of Alastair’s stomach.
I can’t do this, he thought as he swallowed. But he had to. There really wasn’t much choice. How pitiful he would seem if he fled the temple now, before it had even grown dark.
