Chapter 3
ELENA PIERSON
Igroan into my pillow, my brow puckering in disgust at the sounds of muffled, indistinct arguing nearby, and curse inwardly when I hear the unmistakable sounds of a male voice. I swear, if Natalie’s brought my brothers to my house again before noon, I’ll kill her.
With one last huff of annoyance I raise up off my pillow, opening my gaze as I do and go stock still. All of the irritation inside me deflates.
Where am I?
The sound of a murmured dispute continues, but drops to a whisper as I gingerly take in my surroundings.
I sit in a luxurious four-poster bed covered in light, cream sheets and a thick, fluffy comforter that feels like a cloud.
The room is huge, bigger than my whole apartment back home, and the walls are a deep burgundy lined with old furniture.
I glance at the window where sunlight pours through thick-patterned glass, and suddenly yesterday’s adventures come back to me in a rush.
The plane trip to Europe, the long bus ride to Romania, and then falling backward into icy water. Oh no.
I must be in the fucking castle.
Peeling away the covers, I realize I’m still dressed in the clothes I threw on at the village hotel the night before, a comfortable pair of beige shorts and white button-up.
Strange, I remember falling into the water, but my clothes smell clean.
Another glance around the room and I spot my boots sitting by an old chair and vanity, but before I can get out of the bed to go and beg someone for forgiveness, there’s a swift knock at the door.
A woman walks in wearing a chef’s uniform with a huge smile on her face. “Good morning. I thought you might be waking up soon and wanted to let you know breakfast is served downstairs,” she says.
“Umm, hello,” I mutter, suddenly at a loss of words on just how to broach my trespassing and whether the castle hosts will be calling the cops.
She tucks a stray brown hair behind her ear and opens the door a bit wider to talk. “You gave us quite a scare, falling in the moat like that.”
“I’m so sorry for any problems I’ve caused,” I reply, moving to get up from the bed. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“I don’t think anyone would ever choose to fall into the moat on purpose, and no one is upset you did. Everyone is curious about what you were doing though, especially so late at night,” she says, as if unconcerned about my trespassing completely.
Embarrassment courses through me, followed by a large dose of relief. At least I’m not going to jail.
“Everyone?” I question, wondering just how many people are still here when the place was supposed to be closed for renovations.
She holds a finger to her lips as if to shush me and steps into the room, closing the big wooden door quietly behind her.
“I’m Whitley, the castle chef. Why don’t you come downstairs and join us all for breakfast, and tell us about your adventure? Vlad and Aubrey, the castle hosts, are already there eating by now. They don’t sleep much. Why don’t we head downstairs to hear about it,” she says, smiling warmly.
A few minutes later and I’d put good money on my face being redder than a cochineal, the beetle whose shell is used to make red dyes in most parts of the world while Whitley chatters away about the castle and its guests.
I’d done extensive research on the topic during my second degree, studying how scientists could develop methods to create a molecular replica of the pigment without needing to kill the bug.
And right now I feel very much like I did so long ago when trying to deliver my speech on how the beetles habitat has changed.
Scared shitless.
Only this time, I’m trying to research and compare different sediments, ones I know haven’t been ransacked with human pollution, so I can prove without a doubt that pollution is changing the migration habits of many insects, like my favorite beetle.
I just wanted to visit, take my sample, and be on my way, all while keeping my whole ass from going to jail.
But these people are nothing like my college professors.
Nerves wrack at my insides, and my palms quickly fill with sweat, my body’s response to trying to soothe itself.
After a short walk, we arrive at our destination. The parlor room is painted a cheery yellow color. The castle owner, his fiancée Aubrey, along with Whitley and Connor, the ma?tre d’ of the castle, all sit listening as I try to explain why I trespassed in the first place.
Telling someone you trespassed onto their property to take samples of their moat water because of a strong fascination for bug life isn’t the easiest thing to do.
“So, you’re trying to save a bug?” Aubrey finally asks over her coffee mug.
So far, she’s been the one to ask any questions, and the rest of them seem content to let her do the talking.
She’s dressed the most casual of the bunch, wearing a simple sweater and leggings, while Vlad is in a shirt and vest and Connor is in a three-piece suit that looks expensive. It makes me feel strangely under dressed.
I worry at my napkin and pull it under the table to fiddle with as I nod in answer. I instantly like her, and send Whitley a warm look of thanks for giving me a rundown of who everyone is, especially when Aubrey seems genuinely intrigued instead of repulsed by the idea.
“Yeah, if I could get a sample of your culvert, it could tell me a lot about what an ideal and unpolluted habitat would look like,” I nod, and suddenly wish I had my phone to show her my notes.
If I had them, maybe I wouldn’t be as nervous.
“I don’t suppose anyone managed to find my phone? ” I ask with a wince.
“Oh, I know where you dropped it, and could fetch it for you. If you’d want to come and show me these wee beetles you’re on about,” a gruff voice says at my back.
I turn in my chair and freeze, dropping my napkin to my lap when my gaze lands on the redheaded man standing by the door.
His blue eyes are crinkled at the edges, and the light from the nearby windows gilds the red of his hair and beard, making it look almost like fire as he moves further into the room.
He’s a few inches over six feet tall, wearing a gray t-shirt that outlines the breadth of his massive chest and a pair of jeans.
My gosh, he’s big.
My gaze fixates on the little red curls that push up from the v at the collar of his neck, and warmth spreads in my middle when our gaze clashes again.
Why does he seem oddly familiar?
“Elena was just telling us how she landed in the moat before you saved her. She was trying to take samples for her beetles,” Aubrey quickly summarizes.
“The pool boy,” I murmur, suddenly recalling how I recognize his face. He told me so last night, except this man is no boy. He looks more like a pool god.
Since I was little, I’ve shied away from most strenuous activity, only doing any when pushed by my brother after he decided to put the gym in town. I’ve always been more interested in mental pursuits, and this guy looks like he’s never missed a workout in his life.
“Lachlan Macbeth, at your service,” he says, with a nod of his long red hair.
The way he says the word service in the thick Scottish drawl he has sends shivers down my spine, and my cheeks quickly reheat for an entirely different reason.
My god, he’s beautiful.
“Not to interrupt, but you’re staying at Francesca’s inn in the village, right?” Connor asks, typing on his phone, his brows pinched.
“Yeah, I am. I’d planned on taking the early bus this morning to head to Budapest before heading on to the U.K,” I reply.
The ma?tre d’ frowns. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. The rains from last night have washed out some of the roads, making bus travel impossible.”
“Oh, please say you’ll stay with us. We’ve plenty of room,” Aubrey announces.
“I’ll call Francesca and see about getting your luggage sent here.
We can possibly find you a new mode of getting to Budapest as well.
In the meantime, Lachlan can set about retrieving your phone.
He’s been with the castle so long, he’s practically family and can tell you anything you want to know about the moat. ”
Hmm. It really wouldn’t be hard for anyone to grab my things because I didn’t even unpack. I thought I’d be back later to run some samples of the water, but instead ended up in it. “I mean, if it’s no trouble,” I reply, blinking at the swift turn of events.
“Of course it’s not any trouble. This place has so many rooms it’s ridiculous, and Vlad was just saying how he wished we could fill the place up with guests, weren’t you darling?” Aubrey says, her voice light and cheery.
An hour ago I was contemplating how to keep them from calling the authorities, and now they’re being so kind. There’s no way I can say no to their hospitality, but still. “Truly I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You’ll stay,” Vlad suddenly says, speaking for the first time. He gets to his feet as if it’s been decided and exits the room.
“Oh—okay,” I mutter, unwilling to argue with the taciturn guy.
The castle owner has been tight-lipped the whole time, and honestly makes me a bit nervous.
Aubrey claps happily, taking me out of my reverie while Whitley gets to her feet and starts clearing away Vlad’s glass that looks suspiciously like red wine.
I’m not one to judge though, and understand European culture has different views on alcohol consumption. I’ve just never seen anyone have wine for breakfast.
“You’ll have to join us for lunch later, Elena. Whitley spoils us all,” Aubrey says.
She gets to her feet and moves to give me a quick hug. I squeeze her back gently and she flounces off through the side door, leaving me alone with Whitley, Connor, and Lachlan.
“I’ll have her back in time for lunch, Whitley. Let’s go find your phone, shall we?” the big Scotsman asks.
A wide smile pulls across his lips, showing the white of his teeth, and my stomach somersaults in response.
“Okay,” I reply, feeling as if I’m in some sort of daze.
Connor gets to his feet and buttons his suit before sweeping Whitley in his arms for a hug, and I realize part of why I’ve been so nervous.
These people look like they could easily double as fashion models. The man in front of me strongly resembles several I’ve seen on the covers of my favorite books.
“Are you ready, Elena?” he asks, holding out one broad hand for me to take.
I reach out, and at the mere touch of our hands, a jolt rolls through me on a wave, sending goosebumps scattering across my body.
Before I can react, he pulls me to my feet and presses a quick kiss to the back of my hand. “It’ll be a pleasure to show you the moat, right this way,” he says, his Scottish brogue so thick I can barely make out the words.
My gaze goes wide as butterflies erupt in my middle for the first time in my adult life, and I try to keep the panic from my face as he leads me out of the parlor room and through the castle.
Twenty-six years old on my first trip around the world, and the warm hand at my back has me questioning whether I’m experiencing my very first crush.
Oh my gosh, Elena. Stop being silly. It’s nothing.
I bite my lip, unsure of what to do when he gallantly moves to open the door to outside, belatedly realizing I’ve not been paying a lick of attention as we’ve been walking—too preoccupied with the man at my side.
He glances down at me with a warm expression and winks one of his gorgeous blue eyes, turning my brain to mush with just a look.
Oh Mylanta. Natalie joked before I left about how I’d meet a man during my vacation, who’d finally make me feel what all the romance book club reads were talking about.
A flush of heat spreads across my chest, and it’s as if my whole body alights when I meet his gaze.
Natalie is gonna die.