Page 87 of Ironvine

Darting forward, he pulled her arm back. “No, Georgie. This thing is centuries old. It’s falling apart. ’Tis unsafe.”

“Oh bother…” Her gaze remained fixed on the dark interior, struggling to see.

“For God’s sake, woman. Instead of that danger giving you pause, it’s excited you all the more.”

“I confess, it has.” She bit her lip. “I must see inside one day. What secrets may be hiding in there to tell us something of its Montclare past.”

“No, Georgie.” That familiar cold hardness shuddered through him, and he pulled her back, taking her in his arms and setting her on the ground. “It’s not safe.”

She stroked the side of his face, easing the sudden tightness of his muscles. “What’s wrong, Charles?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t like it here. Why?”

“That’s not true.” He rubbed at his neck as he turned away from her.

“It’s made you uneasy.” She touched his arm. “Why?”

“From the time when my grandfather was a young boy, it was forbidden for anyone to enter the house and the castle tower. The structure is not stable, and the stones have been known to fall in storms and on their own.”

She tilted her head. “You went in, didn’t you?”

“In the summer when we were boys, Hugh and I would often come here to climb trees, hide and chase each other, go for a swim. One day we stayed here through sunset. There was a full moon, and it was beautiful. Light shone all over the valley, especially on the castle. Hugh dared me to go inside. I would go first, and he would follow so we could explore the old place together like Vikings looking for loot."

Her stomach tightened. “Did you go in?”

“I did. I climbed up right here.” He pointed to the opening high up the wall where she’d attempted to lift herself up. “And that’s when he pushed me. I fell into the darkness head first. Cut my face on the rocks, twisted my ankle, broke my arm.”

“Oh no!”

“Same arm as the one he shot, in fact. I cried out for him. Shouted. I heard him laughing. And then the laugh faded until all I could hear were owls hooting and bats flapping about me.”

“How horrible. What did you do?”

“Crawled about in the mud. Managed to find the hallway that led from the tower through to the house where there was a roof. Exhausted and in wretched pain, I lay there on the stone floor. Thankfully, the moonlight was very bright, streaming through the windows and the gaps in the ruined roof, making all sorts of odd shapes. I was convinced they were ghosts of the past and, as the intruder, they were angry at me for ruining their evening. The walls seemed to move in that eerie light, the very stones coming alive. There were so many odd sounds—the whistling wind, rustling. I feared there were ghosts. I was sure I felt a snake slither over my leg.”

“He abandoned you on purpose in such a place at night? You must have been so frightened, felt so alone, in such pain.”

He met her gaze, his lips parted. He had never told this story to anyone. He shifted his gaze to his boots. “I did feel frightened. Very alone.”

“Did you see anything interesting inside the old house? You probably don’t remember.”

“Oh, I remember.” He shifted his weight, his voice regaining a dash of its usual zest. “There wasn’t any furniture, of course, but I was lying down on the ground, looking up, and I was sure the one wall was painted with some sort of decorative—I couldn’t quite tell what it was—some sort of ribbon that ran along the walls. On one wall, it went up to the ceiling.”

“A ribbon?”

“Might have been a garland…I couldn’t make out the details. But I remember trying, to give myself something to focus on, latch onto. The wind had begun to howl through the stones and ruined roof overhead. I was so cold, upset, but being able to see the stars through the gaps in the roof, tracking that glittering garland, calmed me.”

“How did you ever get out?”

“Our steward’s son found me. Joss is only a few years older than I, a childhood friend of sorts, although my father and brother frowned upon any such associations. Joss found me and helped me to my feet and got me out of there.”

“Oh, Charles… And what did Hugh say? Your father?”

“Hugh said that he thought I was playing a game, that I was treasure hunting inside. That I wanted to show him up by not coming out. It hadn’t occurred to him that I was hurt or in trouble.”

“Rubbish.”

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