A stack of kindling wood sat on the hearth in a wrought iron basket, which discounted the possibility Niall had gone in search for more. So now what? She dropped two logs into the fire and sat on her haunches as red and yellow flames lapped the wood and dusted the room in soft light.
While the fire crackled and sparked, animal howls echoed outside. And they were very close. Too close. Chills raced along her spine and she squeezed the blanket closed as she stood and walked to the kitchen window. Rather than fully open the curtains, she pushed a panel slightly aside and glanced into the night.
The bright, full moon illuminated the woods and the silhouette of gnarled tree branches reached for the sky. Mercy, she’d actually walked through there? The spooky backdrop reminded her of visions from scary Halloween movies.
Something snapped. She gasped and looked over her shoulder. Was it the fire or had it come from outdoors? Then she heard the cracking sound again. Right outside the window. She dropped the curtain to prevent whatever was out there from looking in.
“Niall?” she whisper-shouted. “Where are you?”
Maybe it was him returning from who-knows-where. She swallowed, held her breath and cautiously pushed the panel aside again. While she scoped the woods she heard a low growl. And it was so close she feared turning around in case it came from behind her.
Her heart shot into panic mode, accelerating into a muffled thump inside her ears. Her breaths grew loud and heavy and her entire body trembled. Squeezing the blanket harder in her fist, she let her gaze roam back and forth across the floor. There’s no way an animal could’ve gotten inside with the door closed. Was it closed? Immediately her gaze raced to the door and she knew by the position of the lock it was secure.
Then something started scratching on the wooden exterior. Grasping the smidgen of nerve left in her reserves, she glanced outside once more. A huge wolf with matted fur stood on its hind legs on the concrete pad, scraping its paws on the door. In that instant, as if it sensed her presence, it looked at the window and growled, exposing sharp teeth and fangs.
She swallowed while glaring into its pale-blue—nearly white—eyes. If that thing had enough strength to push the door open she was a goner. It was possibly rabid and starving. Shuddering, she dropped the curtain and spun around, searching for an escape. But the only way out was through a window.
The digging and scraping of its claws intensified. She grabbed a chair from the kitchen table, scooted it to the door and shoved the back side beneath the knob. If Niall returned, well, he shouldn’t have left in the first place.
Eerily it felt as if something cupped her shoulders and guided her to the cabinets. She stood staring at a column of four wooden drawers. And it was as if her hand had a mind of its own when she reached forward and pulled the second drawer open. She couldn’t clearly see inside but after patting her hand on the bottom, she felt knives. Lots and lots of knives. She quickly retracted her hand. And in that instant the beast outdoors growled again, chilling her to the bone. She grabbed the closest handle and pulled out a butcher’s knife. No way could she harm that wolf. She would never hurt an animal.
But if it threatened her in any way, she wouldn’t have a choice. Praying she wouldn’t have to use the knife, she tightened her grip on the handle, sat down at the table and pulled her feet onto the seat.
Where in the heck was Niall? Why’d he leave her alone in this little house in the godforsaken woods? If he busted into the cabin and she accidentally stabbed him, it’d be his own fault. Right now she felt like killing him anyhow. Instead of asking her to spend the night with him, he should’ve asked if she wanted to spend the night alone. What was that about?
Damn, she couldn’t stop shaking. Was it solely in fear or partially because she hadn’t eaten in… When’s the last time she’d eaten? A biscuit that morning? She also needed something to drink before she dehydrated. Her blood sugar levels were probably in shock.
The speed of the claws gouging the door increased. “Stop it. Just go away,” she shouted.
The fire crackled. She nearly jumped out of her skin. If she wanted to be this frightened, she would’ve stayed in her room.
The scratching slowed then faded to a complete stop. Suddenly the wolf started yelping as if it’d been spooked or hurt. Just as quickly the bloodcurdling yelps stopped. An eerie silence fell over the room.
Quiet before the storm.
She swallowed hard and glanced at every window—anticipating the wolf crashing through the glass in a flying leap.
She shuddered and her teeth chattered. With the knife shaking in her trembling hand, she quietly stood, being careful not to make any noise that might upset the beast. On tiptoes she ambled to the kitchen window, pushed back the curtain and looked outside.
Gone.
Where in the hell did it go?
She kept her face away from the pane in case it was crouched low and sprang to attack. If that happened she’d either pee herself or have a stroke.
Maybe it was best if she backed off so as not to entice it. And just as she began releasing the panel, a tall figure charged across the yard and disappeared into the woods. She gasped.
If not for the light-colored shirt glowing in the moonlight, she would have missed it. Immediately she dropped the curtain and jumped back.
Who was it?
Who was out there?
What did it want? It obviously meant no harm because it hadn’t tried breaking in the cottage. But it still gave her the creeps.
Now what?
What if it returned with reinforcements?
Right now it was pointless to worry about because there wasn’t a dang thing she could do.
Oooh, she really wanted to murder Niall for leaving her alone.
Cringing inwardly, she tiptoed to the refrigerator and opened the door. A blast of tepid, moldy air whammed her in the face. “Eew.” She turned her head away from the offensive odor and shut the door.
Great. No food. No Niall. No common sense either, otherwise she wouldn’t be here.
I could die in this place and no one would know it.
She walked to the sink and turned on the cold water. A loud hiss of air shot from the faucet followed by a few droplets that kerplunked into the sink. Then a weak stream began to flow, sputtering while air bled through the pipes. When the pressure finally equalized and the water poured in a steady stream, she set the knife down, filled her hands and took a sip. Yuk! It tasted exactly how rusted metal smelled. She gagged and spit the leftover residue into the sink.
Now what?
Death? Lead poisoning? Bubonic plague?
Again she spat, trying to rid her mouth of any disease-causing bacteria. Should she try to make herself vomit? Isn’t that what the doctor recommended in case of accidental ingestion?
Ugh, she felt ill. “Stop it. It’s psychological. You’re making yourself sick. Just stop.” On the verge of panic, she grabbed the knife, walked to the couch and cuddled in the corner, finding a comfy spot to lie down and die.
If the tainted water didn’t kill her, the hungry wolf or that other thing running through the woods just might. It seemed the chances of surviving the night were pretty grim. She hoped Niall would at least feel a little guilty about her demise since this was his fault.
“You won’t leave without carrying memories of me you’ll never forget.” He’d gotten that right.
Something nudged Shanna’s shoulder. Her eyes popped open to an empty cabin, daylight billowing through the curtains and still no Niall. What the heck? Where could he be? She sat up. The butcher’s knife fell off the couch and hit the floor with a ping.
She picked it up and trudged into the kitchen, dragging the blanket. She was getting out of there. Now. The chance of making it safely through the woods outweighed being stranded without water and food. And if she left barefoot she could charge through the woods at a decent speed. The first thing she was buying when she returned to Ohio was a pair of normal boots. No spiked heels.
&nbs
p; She tossed the blanket on the bed and dressed quickly. Then she returned to the kitchen, picked up her boots and slid her hand beneath a buckle strap on each, securing them to her arm. After returning the chair to the table that’d blocked the door all night, she inhaled a deep breath. She couldn’t think about what she may encounter in those woods, otherwise she’d talk herself out of leaving and would be stranded for freaking forever.
She situated her purse strap around her neck, fisted the knife, steeled her shoulders and cautiously opened the door. Directly beside the concrete pad lay a broken arrow in a pool of blood. Tufts of matted fur were scattered in and around the puddle.
She gasped and her stomach flipped. Someone had been hiding outside while she sat alone in the cabin? And not knowing what or who, raised the hair on the back of her neck.
Suddenly a warm sensation encapsulated her from behind. She gulped and glanced over her shoulder but she found nothing at her back. Tuning in to the slightest sounds, she visually scoped the yard and adjoining woods. When the surroundings appeared clear and she heard only birds chirping from the treetops, she dashed straight ahead into the trees.
Mud squished between her toes and she stepped on twigs that scraped and poked her heels. Then it felt as if she’d been partially lifted and her feet barely touched the ground. But anything seemed possible as adrenaline pumped through her veins, increasing her determination to make it out of there alive. She appeared to be as light as air as she trudged forward. And she wouldn’t stop running. She couldn’t. And she ran as if her life depended on it, slapping branches aside and ducking so they wouldn’t knock her down. Even when she made it out of the woods to the path she refused to stop. And when she finally reached the steps to Tullamore’s entrance it felt as if she’d been firmly stood on her feet. The cold concrete settled into the bottom of her soles.
Panting and gasping for air, she bent over and placed her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Dang, she was out of shape. And she’d never moved so fast in her entire life. If a wolf would’ve been nipping at her heels, she guaranteed he wouldn’t have caught her.
Mud had splattered her clothes and legs and a tiny, soggy leaf was stuck on the top of her toes. She picked it off and tossed it aside.
“Morning, lassie,” Seamus O’Kane hollered down the steps. “Might I say you’ve forgotten to step into your boots?”
Ha-ha. Funny, Seamus. She was not in the mood for his wit this morning. She stomped up the stairs. “Morning,” she grumbled as she passed him and walked inside the hotel.
“Why, there you are, my dear,” Áine Byrne crooned. She met Shanna by the door, looking all glorified in her crisp, clean navy suit while assessing Shanna closely. She spotted the knife in Shanna’s hand and gasped. “Oh goodness, you won’t be needing this,” she said as she raised Shanna’s arm and carefully removed the knife, dangling the handle between her index finger and thumb as if that type of thing happened every day. “I was beginning to worry. Mrs. Thatcher informed me that you did not stay in your room last eve.”
What, no, “What happened to you, my dear? You’re a muddy disgrace.” Shanna clenched her teeth. “I’ll pay for last night.”
Áine acted surprised. “Oh, I wasn’t insinuating—”
“Where’s Niall?”
Áine’s brows rose. “Niall?”
“Brogan,” she snapped. “Your gardener.”
“Oh, yes, Niall.” She placed a hand on her upper chest and glanced over her shoulder at Mary Coughlin. “He, um,” Áine continued. She paused to clear her throat and looked down at Shanna’s bare feet. “I’m… I’m not quite sure. I haven’t seen him yet this morning. Have you, Mary?”
“No, ma’am,” Mary replied, brushing invisible dirt off the counter. “I haven’t seen Niall today.”
Really? Swatting dirt? There wasn’t a speck of dust in the place. Shanna glared at Áine. “Well, when you see him, tell him he’d better meet me in my room.” She stomped off to the modern lifts and rode the first vacant one she encountered to the third floor.
After locking herself inside her room, she placed her hands on her hips and looked around. “I’m going to take a shower and you’d better not mess with me, you son of a bitch, or I’ll rip your invisible head off your shoulders.”
There. That made her feel better. Well, it sure felt good to get it off her chest anyhow. If she wasn’t so dang mad at Niall, she wouldn’t have stepped foot in the room alone. If for no other reason, she could be grateful to him for that. Okay, maybe for the sex too.
Oooh, what was she thinking!
Obviously she wasn’t or she wouldn’t be in this predicament. Spending the night with a complete stranger just because she’d gone gaga over his looks and needed a reprieve from her pity party. A condom-less stranger at that. What if he’d lied and he slept around all the time? What if she’d contracted some type of STD?
Dear God, she needed out of there. Out of the castle. Out of Ireland. Because she’d gone totally out of her mind.
She raced to her purse and grabbed her cell phone, but when she turned it on she received the same service unavailable message. Ah, she wanted to scream. Could nothing work in her favor? She stomped to the landline phone and lifted the receiver to her ear. Dead. The damn thing was still dead. Well, after breakfast she’d take a walk to the library and utilize a computer there to book a flight home.
Stiffening her spine, she walked to her suitcases, grabbed the toiletry case, fresh panties and bra, and a chocolate-brown sweater dress with mid-length sleeves and a turtleneck. If Áine just happened to escort her outside again, she’d be a tad more prepared. No, that wasn’thappening.If Áine tried pushing her out, damn it, she was coming too.
Scooping the clothes in her hands, she scurried into the bathroom and locked the door. A gust of warmth swarmed in behind her. She stiffened and stole a mouthful of air, holding it in her lungs. Her heartbeat thumped loudly as she stared at the floor, waiting for something to happen. But after a long, silent, uneventful moment passed, she relaxed.
After brushing her teeth and scrubbing quickly in a hot shower, she dressed, applied kohl liner and mascara to her eyes then slid her feet into a pair of pink furry booty slippers and rode the lift to the lobby floor. If anyone had any complaints regarding her attire, too bad. Today life was all about comfort. And after the cold hike through the woods, her feet needed pampering.
Her belly hurt and it growled in need of food the entire way to the restaurant. The cute, rude hostess Sarah she’d met yesterday stood directly behind the podium with her hands clasped. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said. “Two?”
Seriously? “Do you see anyone else?” The girl had issues. “One. Me.”
“Your friend won’t be joining you?”
“No,” Shanna snapped. Geez, calm down. It’s not Sarah’s fault Niall left during the night. “Sorry. Have you seen him today?”
“Who, ma’am?”
“Niall. The good-looking man who accompanied me yesterday.”
Sarah’s lips folded. She shook her head slightly, grabbed a menu and headed into the dining area. “Right this way please.”
Shanna followed her to a table in the center and sat down. “I don’t need a menu. I’ll be ordering off the buffet.” She was too hungry to wait on the chef to scramble a couple eggs.
“Would you care for a cup of tea?”
“Yes please.” After Sarah walked away Shanna ambled to the buffet and filled a plate with eggs, sausage, fried potatoes, soda bread, grilled tomatoes, fresh strawberries, and a ton of pastries. No way could she eat the hefty portions but they looked good stacked high on the dish.
And she was right, she’d tolerated only a couple bites of each before her tummy nearly exploded from the substantial amount of food. She’d actually eaten herself ill.
During the entire meal, she had the uncanny feeling someone was watching her, but other than an elderly man and woman sitting in a booth beside her, the remaining seats were vacant. And the coupl
e was so engrossed in each other, neither paid her any mind.
This place of romance and intrigue was losing its reputation quickly. There hadn’t been anything memorable about it so far during this trip. She’d been heartbroken, angry, piss-pants scared and now lonely. Nice vacation. She couldn’t wait to do it again sometime.
She fluttered through her purse for a few singles, tucked them beneath the salt and pepper shakers then approached the register and paid her bill.
Now what?
Time to reserve a flight home. She stood in the corridor, trying to remember the location of the library. During the prior stay she’d passed it but never went inside. But the last vacation, she and Derek spent the week in their room celebrating their engagement.
Her main goal—avoid Áine Byrne. And if Shanna had to walk circles around the castle to achieve said goal, she would. She shrugged and turned to the left. If she got lost, oh well, it’d kill some time.
When she neared the public restrooms she spotted a diagram of the hotel propped on a tripod. She pinpointed the library, memorized the route then headed toward the medieval section of the castle.
It took nearly twenty minutes to walk the long, winding hallways before arriving at the library. It was vacant and appeared almost too poorly lit for anyone to sit down and read. Dim lighting from electrical wall lanterns illuminated sections that would have benefited from natural light if the maroon drapes hadn’t been drawn. Bookshelves lined the entire perimeter of the room from floor to ceiling. Red felt chairs and leather couches were sporadically placed for patrons’ comfort, and in the center, beneath a cathedral ceiling, sat a grouping of six computers. Despite the absence of an attendant, she knew the library doors never closed.
Shanna walked in, laid her purse on a computer desk, situated herself comfortably on a chair and browsed flights to the US.
Friday?
She couldn’t fly home for another six days! How could she possibly last nearly one more week in this spooky place? How’d Derek manage a way home—unless he hadn’t left Ireland yet and made reservations at a different hotel. What a great idea. Maybe she should exploit it as well.
Phantom Mischief Page 8
