MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance) by Claire Branson Page A
Authors: Claire Branson
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carrying unfamiliar people through their town out of the ordinary.
"You don't want to go up there!" Outside, someone shouted the words in the direction of the van.
Lily could hear the voice only dimly through the partly open window, but the words were clear enough. She saw her uncle shake his head.
"We really do, mate. Don't you worry about us."
No one else spoke to them. There was only the head shaking as they passed, mothers guiding their children into the safety of doorways and closing the sturdy wooden doors behind them. She thought she saw one or two people make the sign of the cross.
They could not, of course, drive right up to the house. There was a barred gate across the road at the base of the hill, and they had to pull the van off onto the grassy verge and scramble out of it, Lily still carefully holding her camera, already wrapped up in a jacket against the chill of early winter. Her long white-blonde hair was tied back in a tail to keep it out of the way. She saw Fred shiver as he pulled his coat on. Her uncle, who shared Lily's slim build and hazel green eyes, was already headed for the perimeter fence, examining the lock on the gate. It wasn't an especially sophisticated one, and in a moment he had a pair of heavy bolt cutters out of the truck and snapped through the rusting chain that held the padlock currently wrapped around the gate. Lily hoped no one had seen that particular feat of ingenuity, though she knew they would probably find out. Her cheeks were hot as she followed her uncle and Fred through the gate and up the easy slope of the road toward the mansion at the top of the low hill. She held the camera in both hands, filming the approach. It might make for a good opening shot, layered over the narration introducing the house and its history.
As they drew closer to the mansion, she thought a little uneasily that it seemed to loom over the road, over them, glowering through its dark windows. She thought maybe she was beginning to understand why the locals thought it was haunted. It certainly looked anything but inviting, there in the gathering dark of evening. The last sunlight glinted from glass and metal on is façade, outlining the sharp corners. For a place that had not been touched in decades, it looked oddly well cared for, none of its siding peeling. That would disappoint her uncle. He'd been expecting shots of a dilapidated old house to set the tone of the piece. They walked up the stairs onto the pillared porch, and her uncle tried the door, which swung slowly open under his hand.
Inside it was dark, lit only by the dim last light coming in through the windows. The white shapes of sheet-covered furniture, edges blurred in the grey, were huddled together in corners, set up along walls. The air smelled of dust and old wood. Faintly, Lily thought she could smell lemon, as though someone had polished the furniture some time not too long ago, and she wondered if a maid was sent in occasionally to keep the place clean in case the man who owned it decided to visit.
Lily kept the camera on her uncle, who was already speaking into his microphone, narrating the history of the old house as he crept forward with the air of someone expecting to see a monster around every turn. Because his back was to her, Lily felt entirely safe rolling her eyes. What a waste of a day. With an inaudible sigh, she followed him through the foyer and into a narrow hall which led deeper into the house, though she wasn't sure what he was expecting to find on the first floor. Wasn't it basements and attics that were supposed to be haunted? Fred was right on her uncle's heels, occasionally ranging ahead with the flashlight, turning it on dim corners that proved to be empty of anything except the occasional cobweb.
"No one has set foot in the place since the last member of the direct family line was killed in World War I," her uncle was saying to his mic in a husky whisper meant to fit with the atmosphere or something. "They
"You don't want to go up there!" Outside, someone shouted the words in the direction of the van.
Lily could hear the voice only dimly through the partly open window, but the words were clear enough. She saw her uncle shake his head.
"We really do, mate. Don't you worry about us."
No one else spoke to them. There was only the head shaking as they passed, mothers guiding their children into the safety of doorways and closing the sturdy wooden doors behind them. She thought she saw one or two people make the sign of the cross.
They could not, of course, drive right up to the house. There was a barred gate across the road at the base of the hill, and they had to pull the van off onto the grassy verge and scramble out of it, Lily still carefully holding her camera, already wrapped up in a jacket against the chill of early winter. Her long white-blonde hair was tied back in a tail to keep it out of the way. She saw Fred shiver as he pulled his coat on. Her uncle, who shared Lily's slim build and hazel green eyes, was already headed for the perimeter fence, examining the lock on the gate. It wasn't an especially sophisticated one, and in a moment he had a pair of heavy bolt cutters out of the truck and snapped through the rusting chain that held the padlock currently wrapped around the gate. Lily hoped no one had seen that particular feat of ingenuity, though she knew they would probably find out. Her cheeks were hot as she followed her uncle and Fred through the gate and up the easy slope of the road toward the mansion at the top of the low hill. She held the camera in both hands, filming the approach. It might make for a good opening shot, layered over the narration introducing the house and its history.
As they drew closer to the mansion, she thought a little uneasily that it seemed to loom over the road, over them, glowering through its dark windows. She thought maybe she was beginning to understand why the locals thought it was haunted. It certainly looked anything but inviting, there in the gathering dark of evening. The last sunlight glinted from glass and metal on is façade, outlining the sharp corners. For a place that had not been touched in decades, it looked oddly well cared for, none of its siding peeling. That would disappoint her uncle. He'd been expecting shots of a dilapidated old house to set the tone of the piece. They walked up the stairs onto the pillared porch, and her uncle tried the door, which swung slowly open under his hand.
Inside it was dark, lit only by the dim last light coming in through the windows. The white shapes of sheet-covered furniture, edges blurred in the grey, were huddled together in corners, set up along walls. The air smelled of dust and old wood. Faintly, Lily thought she could smell lemon, as though someone had polished the furniture some time not too long ago, and she wondered if a maid was sent in occasionally to keep the place clean in case the man who owned it decided to visit.
Lily kept the camera on her uncle, who was already speaking into his microphone, narrating the history of the old house as he crept forward with the air of someone expecting to see a monster around every turn. Because his back was to her, Lily felt entirely safe rolling her eyes. What a waste of a day. With an inaudible sigh, she followed him through the foyer and into a narrow hall which led deeper into the house, though she wasn't sure what he was expecting to find on the first floor. Wasn't it basements and attics that were supposed to be haunted? Fred was right on her uncle's heels, occasionally ranging ahead with the flashlight, turning it on dim corners that proved to be empty of anything except the occasional cobweb.
"No one has set foot in the place since the last member of the direct family line was killed in World War I," her uncle was saying to his mic in a husky whisper meant to fit with the atmosphere or something. "They
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