Memories in Stone

By Dianne Hartsock

Gilly is dying. He knows this, and in an act of desperation and grief, calls upon all his strength and the energies of the earth to imbue the twelve stones he’d gathered, shot through with crystals, with the memories of the life he’d shared with Finian, his husband and lover.

With this he hopes to leave Finian, at the very least, with the joy of their time together. But he wishes for more. As a witch of singular power, he risks all he is in this final gamble. To move forward with Finian, or die alone, as he always had been.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Jul 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685502171

Dianne Hartsock

Dianne is the author of paranormal, suspense, m/m romance, fantasy, thriller. Also a floral designer.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Gilly, you need to eat.

Yes, love, Gilly replied, his thoughts elsewhere, waving his fingers as if shooing away a fly. But his heart smote him when he caught the deep concern on his husband’s face, still comely, but now weathered and lined with age. More dear to him than life. He sat straighter at the table, ignoring the new ache in his bones and the exhaustion from a sleepless night.

Have you noticed, he began, stirring the porridge in his bowl, that it’s particularly nice outside this morning?

And… Finian prompted, not taking his eyes of Gilly, though Gilly had looked pointedly out the kitchen window. Gilly met his gaze and couldn’t help but admire Finian’s upright posture and still handsome features. A blush tinged Finian’s clean shaven cheeks under his stare, the sweet, shy smile that had stolen Gilly’s breath all those years ago lifting his lips, tugging at Gilly’s heart all over again.

Gilly had been very much alone back then, young and awkward, bartering his herbs and tinctures in the village. He’d been tongue-tied when Finian stepped under his roof, his cottage seeming humble and cramped, books and bottles and drying herbs stuffed on every available shelf and tabletop, even stacked on the bare wooden floor. Then Finian had smiled, breaking Gilly’s heart with his beauty, underscoring Gilly’s bone deep loneliness.

Gilly? Finian raised a brow as dark as his hair—though both now glittered with silver strands—recalling him to the moment. Gilly’s own hair had already gone white, the subtle magic he used taking its toll, making him appear years older than his husband, though they were of an age.

Gilly’s throat had grown tight with emotion and he cleared away the roughness. I’d like to walk on the beach today. Feel the sand under my toes, he replied, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice and give away his plans.

Finian’s shoulders lost their tenseness, his expression turning at once to one of fondness and relief. Of course. Eat three bites and we can be on our way.

Gilly chuckled. As you wish, he said, and dutifully took a spoonful of the now cold oatmeal, delighted Finian had used the same bargain on him they’d always struck with Braedyn, forcing the child to eat something before he fled outdoors and became lost to them for the day.

When finished, Gilly washed the bowls and spoons and cooking pot while Finian dried them with an old towel, their hands brushing occasionally. Gilly admired Finian’s sun-browned skin against his own red oak tone, an erotic sight that still stirred him despite the wrinkles and age patches they both bore.

It took longer than usual to pull on his boots, his fingers stiff and painful, and his frame seemed heavy as he went to rise from the chair. But Finian was there as always, with an arm around him, steadying him to his feet. Gilly regretted the concern that shadowed Finian’s lovely hazel eyes and kissed his cheek. They donned light coats, Gilly picking up the pack he’d prepared earlier. Finian took up the water skin, and they stepped from the cottage into bright sunlight.

They paused on the porch while Gilly adjusted the pack on his shoulder. Finian gave him a keen glance, but pressed his lips together on whatever he’d been about to say. Gilly hated to be fussed over and appreciated his reticence. They linked hands on the sandy path through the trees behind the cottage to the tiny cove they usually had to themselves. A smile sprang on Gilly’s lips as he recalled the many afternoons they’d made love on the warm white sand, Finian’s toned body glistening with sweat and saltwater, confirming his strength as he pushed inside Gilly.

Gilly raised his face to let the sun and sea air caress his cheeks. Finian made a happy sound beside him, and with a shared grin, they rounded the cove and headed up the beach, the blue ocean with its crashing waves to their left, the dense forest on their right. They paused at a pile of