9781618850607ForeverNightDayNC

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A Secret
Cravings Publishing Book

Erotic Romance

FOREVER NIGHT

Copyright © 2011
by
Xondra
Day

E-book ISBN:
978-1-61885-060-7

First E-book
Publication: November 2011

Cover design by
Beth Walker

Edited by Julie
Bogle

Proofread by
Lacie
Nation

All cover art
and logo copyright © 2011 by Secret Cravings Publishing

ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED:
This
literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without
express written permission.

All
characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual
persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Secret
Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Dedication

For my readers.
Without you I wouldn’t have a writing career.

FOREVER NIGHT

Xondra
Day

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

There
was something about the painting, something that Carrie Ann
couldn
’
t place her finger on. Standing before the fireplace,
she studied the canvas, her eyes tracing the subject, a man, over and over. His
smile managed to look both devilish and warm at the same time, and he certainly
made a most handsome subject, looking debonair in his dark gray suit.

Like
everything else in the house, the painting came along with the sale. It was
another reminder of a bygone era
—
an era which had long since come to pass yet was
reflected through the decor in each room. Carrie Ann closed her eyes and
pictured what the house must have looked like back in the day, during a time
that would never come to be again. The thought saddened her.

The
house was built in 1912 by the man featured in the portrait, Augustine
LaMount
.
His name like fine wine flowed through her
mind as she said it over and over again, sounding out each syllable.

A
crash of thunder boomed overheard in the night sky. She clutched her half-drunk
glass of burgundy, and lifted it in the air as a toast to her long dead
predecessor. “To
us,
and the house.” The toast was
simple, short, and sweet. No other words were needed. It was just the two of
them without another soul for miles. The storm carried on outside, the hard
rain beating against the windowpanes as huge gusts of wind blew in from the
ocean.

The
lights flickered once, twice, and a third time. Candles
—
she needed candles. She found the candles in a
sideboard in the formal dining room and upon returning to the front parlor, she
placed three in a tall silver candelabrum before lighting them one at a time.

Watching
each flame catch, her mind harkened back to her first encounter with the house
a couple months back, along with the curious circumstances that led her there.
It seemed like everything had been predetermined long before she made that
final decision to purchase.

She
hadn
’
t been looking for a property, for anything in fact
during that summer vacation upstate. Her small condo in the city suited her
fine. She
didn
’
t need anything bigger, but when she first spotted the
house, it struck something inside of her. She was forever branded.

* * * *

“
The house dates back to 1912. It was built by Mr.
Augustine
LaMount
for his new bride,
Maribeth
. It has been empty for the past fifteen years. But
it
’
s my
understanding that the current owners have taken great care of the property.
Their initial plans had been to convert the place into a bed and breakfast, but
for some reason, it never came to be,” explained Mrs. Bonnie, the
relator
in charge of the listing. “The price is an absolute
steal in this harsh market. They could have priced it so much higher.” She
pointed to the ocean which fronted the property and smiled. “That view alone
and the frontage are worth it. Just smell that salt air, and listen to the
waves. It
’
s
glorious.”

She
agreed. “It
’
s
lovely. You said they
’
re selling the house well below its value?” Overhead,
she heard a seagull cry out.

Mrs.
Bonnie nodded. “Yes. I did try and sway them to ask for more, but they wanted
to get rid of it. I can understand why they would. It must be a terrible burden
for them. Upkeep for such a large house is expensive, especially since they had
to hire someone to look in on the place. They don
’
t live in the immediate area.”

Carrie
Ann was extremely curious to see the house
’
s interior. “The listing states it possesses four
bedrooms, two bathrooms, a renovated modern kitchen, but still retains much of
its old time charm, including many of the original furnishings which are being
sold with the house.”

“
Yes,” replied Mrs. Bonnie. “Let
’
s take a look inside. I promise you won
’
t be disappointed,” she gushed. She motioned with one
hand for Carrie Ann to follow her up the narrow, rock hewn path.

On
the veranda, Mrs. Bonnie turned and smiled as she put the key in the front door
’
s lock. “Can you imagine sitting out here on those
gorgeous summer evenings? If my husband
wasn
’
t such an old son of a gun, I
’
d go for this place myself. I
’
d snap it up right quick and that would be the end of
it.
”
The lock
clicked.

Carrie
Ann nodded. “You
’
ve
just about sold me on the place.” It was darn near perfect.

“
Have I?” asked the realtor, still smiling. “Then come
right on in.” She pushed the door open, and held it for Carrie Ann, sucking in
a breath. “Be prepared to step back in time.”

She
was right. Just inside the door, Carrie Ann found herself surrounded by
magnificent stained glass and dark hardwoods. The glass pattern consisted of
floral scenes. Each panel highlighted a different flower, illuminated by the
warm, midday sunlight. “Wow.” She marveled at the intricate patterns. “This is
simply gorgeous.”

Mrs.
Bonnie nodded in agreement. “It really is breathtaking. Now, the front hall
spans all the way through the house. Back there you will find a kitchen which
we will view in a moment. But first, let
’
s have a look at the front parlor.
”

It
truly was like stepping back in time, just as Mrs. Bonnie had stated. All
around them were things from a bygone era, each a testament in their own right
to a time period in which they were produced and used. “This is something. And
you said all this comes with the house?”

“
Yes, everything here is included in the sale,” reaffirmed
Mrs. Bonnie.

It
totally
wasn
’
t her style, yet Carrie Ann felt drawn in, like she
’
d been there before, and that strange sense of
deja
vu
didn
’
t go unnoticed. “And the price?” she asked, feeling
the need to hear it again.

“
It
’
s as I stated. They want it gone. Plus, there haven
’
t been any offers yet.”

Carrie
Ann ran her hand across a vast marble fireplace mantle and looked up at a large
painting hanging over it. A very handsome man with dark eyes looked out over
the room, his face stern and his hands folded in his lap. “Who is that?” she
asked, pointing to the image forever locked in oil, the silver gilt frame
glimmering ever so slightly.

“
That
’
s Augustine
LaMount
, the
original owner.
Isn
’
t he gorgeous?” Mrs. Bonnie grinned. “Now, let
’
s move on to the kitchen. You
’
re going to love this room. It
’
s a real gem.”

Mrs.
Bonnie was right. As far as kitchens went, this one was a complete and utter
showstopper
—
top
of the line in every way. “Very nice,” she said, sweeping her hand along the
marble countertop. “I
’
m not one for cooking, but this is a chef
’
s dream. It
’
s very appealing
—
a strong selling point.”

Upstairs,
they walked down the vast hallway, passing several doors. Mrs. Bonnie told her
about each room as they passed it, only stopping briefly to look inside.

“
This is the master bedroom. It
’
s a decent size with an en suite bathroom, and a
fireplace for those cold winter nights.”

Carrie
Ann shivered as she entered the room. It was weird and downright strange that
this room would be so cold during early summer, especially when the rest of the
house was borderline stifling from the heat after being closed up for so long.
She searched with her eyes for an open window.
Nothing
.
“Is this room air-conditioned?”

“
Goodness, no.
There
isn
’
t any call for that here. They did install ceiling
fans in most of the rooms.” Mrs. Bonnie pointed to one overhead, and then a
strange expression crossed her face, one of discomfort. “Let
’
s move back downstairs, shall we?
”