Shadows of the Past by H.M. Ward, Stacey Mosteller Page B
Authors: H.M. Ward, Stacey Mosteller
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closer to the door. "I'm going to go over to my room. Come get me when you're ready, and we'll explore the grounds together, okay?"
I nod, mesmerized by the surroundings.
The door shuts heavily behind him, and I sit in a comfy chair in front of the stone fireplace. A small table has a waiting tea service and a selection of leather-bound books waiting for me.
Following my nose, I lift the lid of the teapot and discover it is filled with hot chocolate instead of tea. Awesome.
All holidays should be like this. Books, a fire, hot chocolate, and a sexy man right across the hopefully-not-haunted staircase. It can’t get better than this.
CHAPTER 19
Twenty minutes later, Liam rushes to greet us as we reenter the library.
"Is there anything you need? Are your rooms satisfactory? Can I help you with anything?" Like the staff at the Orangery, he seems intent on making sure Oliver's stay is the best experience possible.
"I think we're going to go explore the village," Oliver says with a curious sideways glance in my direction. I’m ready to burst out laughing at the way people fall all over Oliver. "Is there anything we should make sure we visit?"
"Oh, yes," Liam says eagerly. "A walk through our gardens is lovely at this time of year. From there you can walk into the adjoining churchyard and tour St. Mary's, before sampling local foods at our must-see open market."
He keeps talking, but I tune him out, distracted by studying the castle. I'm staying in a freaking CASTLE! A huge-ass smile spreads across my face again while I glance around the library.
Satisfied with Liam's list of possible activities, Oliver leads me out to the grounds. We head for the castle gardens first. The hedges are so tall and orderly it's almost like walking through a maze, and the display of flowers and herbs is absolutely breathtaking.
We pause at a sculpture of a man wearing robes. He's looking down as if he's ashamed. I recognize the pained expression on his face as one I've seen in my mirror. I feel like the statue and I have kindred spirits.
As we walk further the garden changes from formal to wild. This part looks almost unkempt; the stones are cracked, and small trees grow outside of the flowerbeds. The flowers here aren't in any order, nor are they arranged by color or type, but it's just as breathtaking.
On the far side of the garden is a low stone fence with a scrolled iron gate, separating the castle grounds from a small tree-lined churchyard. In the center stands a simple stone church made in the same style and materials as the castle.
Instead of a tapered steeple it has a square tower and bell. Large stained glass windows depicting the saints adorn the ivy-covered stone walls. Shadows from the trees create shadows in just the right places to make the little churchyard feel a dark and freaky.
"I bet it's magnificent," Oliver says coming up beside me. "Would you like to go in and explore?" I smile feebly, chills running up my spine at the thought, as Oliver opens the iron gate for me, waiting expectantly.
I follow dutifully, trying to appear unaffected. I haven't been in a graveyard since before I moved to Europe.
The gravestones are old and barely legible. There are tons of them, crammed together in a tiny space. They go all the way out to the sidewalk.
Oliver patiently attempts to read them aloud. I try to tune him out. Despite my hesitance at the gate, the green grass, tall trees, and gentle breeze make this a very peaceful place to rest.
Goosebumps rise on my arms, thinking about all the people who must have visited here, seeing things that I’ve read about in books.
I run my finger along one of the pale stones, but when I stop to read it I freeze. The small stone marks the resting place of two little girls who died at the age of two.
All the air is sucked from my lungs. I can't think, I can't speak, I need to get away but I can't move.
Two daughters dead at such a young
I nod, mesmerized by the surroundings.
The door shuts heavily behind him, and I sit in a comfy chair in front of the stone fireplace. A small table has a waiting tea service and a selection of leather-bound books waiting for me.
Following my nose, I lift the lid of the teapot and discover it is filled with hot chocolate instead of tea. Awesome.
All holidays should be like this. Books, a fire, hot chocolate, and a sexy man right across the hopefully-not-haunted staircase. It can’t get better than this.
CHAPTER 19
Twenty minutes later, Liam rushes to greet us as we reenter the library.
"Is there anything you need? Are your rooms satisfactory? Can I help you with anything?" Like the staff at the Orangery, he seems intent on making sure Oliver's stay is the best experience possible.
"I think we're going to go explore the village," Oliver says with a curious sideways glance in my direction. I’m ready to burst out laughing at the way people fall all over Oliver. "Is there anything we should make sure we visit?"
"Oh, yes," Liam says eagerly. "A walk through our gardens is lovely at this time of year. From there you can walk into the adjoining churchyard and tour St. Mary's, before sampling local foods at our must-see open market."
He keeps talking, but I tune him out, distracted by studying the castle. I'm staying in a freaking CASTLE! A huge-ass smile spreads across my face again while I glance around the library.
Satisfied with Liam's list of possible activities, Oliver leads me out to the grounds. We head for the castle gardens first. The hedges are so tall and orderly it's almost like walking through a maze, and the display of flowers and herbs is absolutely breathtaking.
We pause at a sculpture of a man wearing robes. He's looking down as if he's ashamed. I recognize the pained expression on his face as one I've seen in my mirror. I feel like the statue and I have kindred spirits.
As we walk further the garden changes from formal to wild. This part looks almost unkempt; the stones are cracked, and small trees grow outside of the flowerbeds. The flowers here aren't in any order, nor are they arranged by color or type, but it's just as breathtaking.
On the far side of the garden is a low stone fence with a scrolled iron gate, separating the castle grounds from a small tree-lined churchyard. In the center stands a simple stone church made in the same style and materials as the castle.
Instead of a tapered steeple it has a square tower and bell. Large stained glass windows depicting the saints adorn the ivy-covered stone walls. Shadows from the trees create shadows in just the right places to make the little churchyard feel a dark and freaky.
"I bet it's magnificent," Oliver says coming up beside me. "Would you like to go in and explore?" I smile feebly, chills running up my spine at the thought, as Oliver opens the iron gate for me, waiting expectantly.
I follow dutifully, trying to appear unaffected. I haven't been in a graveyard since before I moved to Europe.
The gravestones are old and barely legible. There are tons of them, crammed together in a tiny space. They go all the way out to the sidewalk.
Oliver patiently attempts to read them aloud. I try to tune him out. Despite my hesitance at the gate, the green grass, tall trees, and gentle breeze make this a very peaceful place to rest.
Goosebumps rise on my arms, thinking about all the people who must have visited here, seeing things that I’ve read about in books.
I run my finger along one of the pale stones, but when I stop to read it I freeze. The small stone marks the resting place of two little girls who died at the age of two.
All the air is sucked from my lungs. I can't think, I can't speak, I need to get away but I can't move.
Two daughters dead at such a young
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