Page 13 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

“As you say, my lord.”

Hollis handed off the packages to another manservant who materialized out of the crowd. Before long, she and Emmaline had offloaded all of them to the men. She had to admit it was a relief not to be carrying them. Lord Vincent lingered, though, even after Hollis and the other man melted away into the crowd.

“May I escort you somewhere?” he asked.

“We were headed to the food stalls,” she said with a breezy air. “But…” She cut a glance to Emmaline and her rosy cheeks. “I just remembered I need to see my father. He’s on his ship. Would you mind escorting Emmaline instead?”

She reached behind her, taking the girl’s hand in hers and tugging her toward Lord Vincent. When his gaze landed on the girl, there was a definite spark between them. He placed his hat on his head and then held out his elbow to her. Emmaline, flustered and a tad breathless, took his arm. She gave Bella a winsome smile as they two headed away.

Bella remained a moment, watching the two of them walk toward the food stalls. He with his tall, broad shoulders in his finery, and her with her hair in a long braid down her back. They made a fine pair. A sense of smug satisfaction swept over her, pleased at her matchmaking skills, as she headed for her father’s ship.

As she approached the ship, though, she heard shouting coming from the decks. And not the normal shouts of boisterous men. This had a hint of fear in it. She picked up her skirts and hurried toward the gangplank as one of the sailors appeared on deck with a shout for her father.

Several of the crew members were clustered on the dock at the foot of the gangplank, huddling together and whispering. There was a palpable tension in the sea air, and something made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention.

She halted a distance from the gangplank as her father, who was talking with one of the merchants, left the man and headed to the deck.

“What is it, lad?”

The young man—who could not be much older than Bella—was clearly frightened by whatever he saw in the hold. He pointed behind him and uttered nonsensical words. Her father approached him, took him by the shoulders.

“Easy, now. Tell me what this is all about,” her father said.

“He’s dead, sir.”

A stillness settled over the ship. Bella’s heart dropped to her shoes as she stood there, still as a statute, wondering who was dead. One of the crew?

Her father dropped his arms to his side. With his back to her, she was unable to see his reaction.

“You best show me, lad.”

He waved in the direction of the hold, then followed the young sailor from the deck to the cargo hold. Intent on finding out what happened, Bella headed for the gangplank. But when she approached Tobin, a longtime boatswain on her father’s ship, stepped in front of her to stop her.

“Ya don’t want to be goin’ there, miss,” he said.

“Why not, Tobin?” She put her hands on her hips, determined to step around him and find out what was going on for herself.

She’d known the man since she was a little girl. When she sailed with her father, he looked out for her, told her seafaring stories of the high seas that were surely fiction, and made sure she was treated with respect by the other deckhands.

“Still headstrong, ain’t ya, miss.” He gave her a wink and a wide smile, then turned serious. “Trust me when I tell ya, there’s nothing but trouble there.”

Something about the way he said it sent cold tingles dancing up her spine. “What do you mean?”

“He means, miss, there be whispers from below. Like chanting. It’s cold as the grave down there, it is,” said one of the deckhands.

“Whispers you say?” She instantly thought of the book whispering to her in the middle of the night.

“Aye, miss.” He lowered his voice and leaned in close, as though sharing a secret with her. “Happened in the middle of the night. Cold wind blew below deck. Lanterns snuffed out. And that shadow thing—it was in the cargo hold.”

“That’s enough, Jory,” Tobin said, cutting him off. He gave him a nudge away from her and stepped in front of him, as if to shield her from the deckhand.

But something about the way he saidshadow thingsent definite cold chills through her. She shuddered and clutched her elbows. She’d seen the shadow herself creeping through the port. Not once, but twice.

“A shadow thing?” she repeated.

“And now a man’s dead,” Jory continued.

Tobin turned to him and grasped him by the arm. “Get back to yer post, you scallywag.” He gave him a shove in the direction of the gangplank.

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