Shadows of the Past by H.M. Ward, Stacey Mosteller Page A

grin.
    "Oh, not in the library, sir," Liam says matter-of-factly, "she usually sticks to the guest rooms above the library. That's where the nursery was located before this castle was renovated into a hotel."
    Oliver and I exchange a look.
    I open my mouth and blurt it out first, "She? Are you talking about a real ghost who actually lives here?" Surely I misunderstood. I’ve heard of haunted places, but I don’t really believe in that sort of thing—poltergeists and all. However, now that he’s said it, I’m a little giddy.
    "Of course. We affectionately call her ‘Lady Gray,’ because of the gray dress she wears. You can usually hear the rustling of her petticoats before you can see her. Many of our guests claim to see her walking the battlements or rocking in the guest rooms above the library. No one knows who she is—err, was, but she's frequently spotted around bedtime and has a fondness for children or those who have lost children."  
    I feel the blood drain from my face. Maybe I do believe in ghosts.
    I see Oliver register my sudden change in mood and am grateful when he changes the subject. "Let's go freshen up, shall we?"  
    That snaps me out of it, but I still feel the prickling sensation on the back of my neck.  
    “Wait. Room or rooms?” I hesitate, wondering what his plan is for the evening. Are we sharing a room?  
    One set of anxious nerves is replaced by a set of nerves anxious about a whole new topic.  
    “Stop worrying, Kayla.” Oliver holds out his hand. I take it and he pulls me up. We follow the concierge to a winding staircase with polished dark-wood banisters and carved griffins in place of knobs.  
    We head up several flights of stairs. As we go higher, the beautiful wide wooden staircase morphs into a narrow stone staircase. I look up and instantly regret it—the stairs seem to go on forever.  
    Oliver continues to climb in front of me. I take a minute to breathe and resume the climb. Every few steps, I stumble like a drunkard and curse under my breath. What the heck is wrong with me? I never trip on stairs.
    "No worries, love, it's not you. 'Tis the stairs," Liam says with a reassuring smile. "The stairs were built unevenly on purpose. In an attack on the castle, they'd have kept the valuables up here. The stairs were built narrowly so that one man with a sword could defend the tower rooms. After you climb them a few times, your brain will begin to learn how high to lift your feet so you won’t trip. Someone attacking the castle, however, would stumble several times providing ample opportunity for his head to be lopped off by the man above."
    As if on cue, I stumble again and clutch the thick rope handrail for dear life. Oliver stifles a soft giggle and I swear again.  
    Liam unabashedly laughs out loud and I make a mental note to order room service several times tonight and specifically request him to bring it.
    Finally at the top, we squish onto a small landing. Liam stops in front of a door and opens it wide, gesturing for me to go inside.  
    "This is your room," Oliver explains. "I'm just across the hall."  
    I turn and notice an identical door directly across the small platform at the top of the stairs.
    Relieved, I enter my room and spin around, much like I did on the first floor, awed by the room's furnishings. A huge four-poster bed commands the room, facing a wide fireplace where happy flames are already dancing and warming the cold stone floor.  
    Stained glass windows cast a warm red light over the room and allow me to see the manicured lawn the helicopter landed on earlier. I peek through an open door to my left. OMG. The world’s largest claw-footed tub is sitting next to a large wardrobe filled with soft bathrobes and expensive scented soaps.  
    I turn to Oliver and squeal. "Oliver, this bed looks like it came straight out of a museum!"
    "I know," he says with a smile. "Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn supposedly stayed here on their honeymoon tour." Oliver steps