“You can do this, Roslyn. It’s just a house. They’re just vampires. You grew up with vampires. It’s nothing to be afraid of.”
I stared up at the Donoghue family estate.
Let’s call a spade a spade, Rosie. It’s a forking castle, for fork’s sake.
As I stood there counting the turrets, the door opened, and a pinched-faced woman peered out.
“Well, are ye coming in, or are ye going tae make us wait even longer?”
Her Scottish brogue was harsh and so thick I could barely understand her, aside from the obvious annoyance in her tone.
“Yes, sorry.” Tightening my hold on the suitcase in my hand, I rushed up the steps and into the foyer.
“Don’t dawdle. We havenae got all night.” She stormed through the cavernous hall until she reached the grand staircase.
Ostentatious. That was the only word to describe this... home?... prison? Which would it be? Blackthorne Manor was my home. It had been a safe place for the last twenty-one years. Never had it felt cold to me. But this castle filled my bones with a chill so deep they ached.
You know what castles have? Dungeons. Places they keep people they want to punish.
The dark thoughts made me shiver, and I nearly tripped in my haste to get up the stairs. The housekeeper hadn’t stopped to make sure I was following, and she was already halfway down the next hall before I caught up with her.
There weren’t any carpets on the stone flooring, and the sounds of my footsteps bounced off the walls, emphasizing the noise. It was the only noise.
Frowning, I glanced out the window. It was nearly dark. Where was everybody? My father would already be awake, and a household of this size required significant staff to keep it running smoothly. Something was off.
“Where is everyone?”
The woman huffed. “Enough with yer incessant questions.”
This was my first. God, she is prickly.
She reached a door at the end of the hall, just before the first bend that would lead down another maze of rooms. Throwing it open, she gestured inside. “In with ye. There’s a dress yer tae wear hanging in the wardrobe. I suggest ye get yerself sorted quickly, or ye’ll be coming down in that... frock. Thirty minutes. Not a second more.”
“What if I’m not ready in thirty minutes?” I could be ready in ten, but that wasn’t the point. This lady was—as Noah would say—a right see-you-next-Tuesday.
“Then yer coming down in yer knickers.”
Wouldn’t that be a statement? Gavin wouldn’t have to wonder what I looked like under my clothes.
“I’ll make sure they are a matching set then, shall I?”
The stare she sent me was indifferent. “I dinnae care what they look like. Now, shift yerself. His lordship doesnae like to be kept waiting.”
With that she slammed the door.
“Aren’t you a peach?” I muttered, shaking my head as I took in my accommodations. The room was lovely, but as cold as the rest of the house. The four-poster bed had snowy white linens. The large hearth was currently empty, but I could imagine how inviting the room would be with a fire’s soft glow.
Spinning in a circle, I spotted the dress they’d left for me. Or should I say gown?
What an odd choice for a family dinner.
“Is that a petticoat?” Moving toward the ivory satin and lace number, I counted the number of fluffy underskirts. “They’re blooming mad if they think I’ll be able to get this monster on in thirty minutes.”
With ten seconds to spare, I secured the final fastenings on the bodice, my breasts nearly spilling out of the top of the gown. I couldn’t go down to my future in-laws looking like this. I was still in the middle of trying to shove them back into the fabric when the door opened without so much as a knock.
“Och, you’d think ye’ve never worn a dress before. Probably havenae, ye Blackthorne beastie.” I would’ve corrected her, but she spun me around, shoved her hands into my dress, and pulled my boobs up until my nipples were all but popping free of the neckline. Then she adjusted the thin straps so they sat draped over my arms, baring my shoulders. “They’ll be wanting to see all ye have to offer.”
“So it would seem.”