toehold. That inspired her to slide her hand closer to … him. She found the lip.
“Now push with your foot, and pull,” the man said.
She did. Her body shifted, just enough to gain leverage.
“Now pull yourself up.”
Emma met the man’s steady gaze. Never before had a pair of eyes been able to talk her into something the way this pair did. Without further hesitation, she did exactly what he instructed her to do. Within seconds, she was safe on the step. On her stomach, but safe all the same. After several seconds of regaining her composure—not to mention pulling her shirt and sweater down over her exposed midriff from all that squirming in her hipsters—she turned over, relief making her body feel faint. “Thanks …”
Emma’s spine went cold. She glanced around, but found nothing save the empty, centuries-old courtyard. A gust of wind blew from the sea and washed over her. A gull screeched overhead.
The man was gone.
Oddly enough, Emma continued her sunrise photo shoot. Even odder was that she did it with disappointment.
Chapter 6
After several days without the first sign of a face, body, voice, or combination of any of the above, Emma felt compelled to make an attempt at sounding not half as ridiculous to the Ballaster sisters as she did to her own silly self by asking about the neighbors of Arrick-by-the-Sea. It was embarrassing.
She was fully convinced the Ballasters had nothing to do with trying to scare her. No wacky little parlor tricks to lure and keep guests, no promotional B and B gimmicks. Perhaps, though, they
did
have a crazy neighbor or something? Had she not been so frightened—then freaked out—by the appearance and swift disappearance of the man on the ivy-covered steps the day she slipped, she would have leaped up to the seawall and glanced over it. There, she probably would have found that guy shimmying down the same rope he’d shimmied up.
Or, and she liked this alternative better, that guy had found and used one of the pirate Garrick’s secret tunnels.
That
definitely could be a possibility. The guy who’d helped her certainly was from the area. He had the strangest of accents.
Mesmerizing, truth be told. Smooth and deep, she couldn’t believe she’d taken the time to notice it at all.
Hurriedly finishing her hair, which she’d quickly worked into a loose French braid, she pulled on a black turtleneck, another pair of her favorite, worn-out jeans, and her boots, she jogged downstairs and entered the guests’ breakfast room. There, the sisters all waited for her, and just like the past two days, they had a mouthwatering breakfast waiting.
Emma could get used to this. She patted her tummy in anticipation.
“Good morn to you, love!” cried the ever-excited Millicent. “Have a seat, just there,” she said, pointing to the place she wished Emma to sit. “The cream scones are nearly done!”
The breakfast room was an add-on, one of those glass-enclosed scenery rooms used by many B and B owners to serve spectacular breakfasts in. It had a beautiful view of the castle, with several daintily set tables hugging the windows, with lovely lace tablecloths and white place settings. Emma’s table had a vase with a handful of fresh flowers poking out of it. It made everything look colorful and inviting.
A tea service had been set for her to use, so she poured a cup and stirred in a heaping spoonful of brown sugar, and fresh cream. The sweet liquid warmed her throat.
No sooner had she finished her tea than all four sisters came out of the kitchen, each with a plate of scrumptious foods for her to select from. After choosing a fresh hot scone, scrambled eggs, thick slices of lean bacon, and a small portion of porridge, she gave the sisters a wide smile. “Thank you so much, although you really don’t have to go to so much trouble for just me.”
They probably think I’m a bottomless pit!
“Och, no trouble at all, lass,” said Willoughby. The other sisters hurried back into
“Now push with your foot, and pull,” the man said.
She did. Her body shifted, just enough to gain leverage.
“Now pull yourself up.”
Emma met the man’s steady gaze. Never before had a pair of eyes been able to talk her into something the way this pair did. Without further hesitation, she did exactly what he instructed her to do. Within seconds, she was safe on the step. On her stomach, but safe all the same. After several seconds of regaining her composure—not to mention pulling her shirt and sweater down over her exposed midriff from all that squirming in her hipsters—she turned over, relief making her body feel faint. “Thanks …”
Emma’s spine went cold. She glanced around, but found nothing save the empty, centuries-old courtyard. A gust of wind blew from the sea and washed over her. A gull screeched overhead.
The man was gone.
Oddly enough, Emma continued her sunrise photo shoot. Even odder was that she did it with disappointment.
Chapter 6
After several days without the first sign of a face, body, voice, or combination of any of the above, Emma felt compelled to make an attempt at sounding not half as ridiculous to the Ballaster sisters as she did to her own silly self by asking about the neighbors of Arrick-by-the-Sea. It was embarrassing.
She was fully convinced the Ballasters had nothing to do with trying to scare her. No wacky little parlor tricks to lure and keep guests, no promotional B and B gimmicks. Perhaps, though, they
did
have a crazy neighbor or something? Had she not been so frightened—then freaked out—by the appearance and swift disappearance of the man on the ivy-covered steps the day she slipped, she would have leaped up to the seawall and glanced over it. There, she probably would have found that guy shimmying down the same rope he’d shimmied up.
Or, and she liked this alternative better, that guy had found and used one of the pirate Garrick’s secret tunnels.
That
definitely could be a possibility. The guy who’d helped her certainly was from the area. He had the strangest of accents.
Mesmerizing, truth be told. Smooth and deep, she couldn’t believe she’d taken the time to notice it at all.
Hurriedly finishing her hair, which she’d quickly worked into a loose French braid, she pulled on a black turtleneck, another pair of her favorite, worn-out jeans, and her boots, she jogged downstairs and entered the guests’ breakfast room. There, the sisters all waited for her, and just like the past two days, they had a mouthwatering breakfast waiting.
Emma could get used to this. She patted her tummy in anticipation.
“Good morn to you, love!” cried the ever-excited Millicent. “Have a seat, just there,” she said, pointing to the place she wished Emma to sit. “The cream scones are nearly done!”
The breakfast room was an add-on, one of those glass-enclosed scenery rooms used by many B and B owners to serve spectacular breakfasts in. It had a beautiful view of the castle, with several daintily set tables hugging the windows, with lovely lace tablecloths and white place settings. Emma’s table had a vase with a handful of fresh flowers poking out of it. It made everything look colorful and inviting.
A tea service had been set for her to use, so she poured a cup and stirred in a heaping spoonful of brown sugar, and fresh cream. The sweet liquid warmed her throat.
No sooner had she finished her tea than all four sisters came out of the kitchen, each with a plate of scrumptious foods for her to select from. After choosing a fresh hot scone, scrambled eggs, thick slices of lean bacon, and a small portion of porridge, she gave the sisters a wide smile. “Thank you so much, although you really don’t have to go to so much trouble for just me.”
They probably think I’m a bottomless pit!
“Och, no trouble at all, lass,” said Willoughby. The other sisters hurried back into
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