“Are you saying they are of royal blood then?” Was it possible I’d met an actual prince? Perhaps a duke or an earl—he seemed the type. Once more, enthusiasm flushed my cheeks.
“Yes,” she replied, giving birth to the butterflies that suddenly went ape shit in my stomach.
“So, there might be a prince or some other noble person in this castle right now?” Someone in the front of the group sounded just as intrigued as I did.
Her laughter light, our guide nodded. “Would be amazing if they were, wouldn’t it?”
A buzz of excited chatter through the group, followed her statement—a first since we got off the bus.
“Can’t we meet any of them?” some hopeful girl called out.
The guide checked her watch. “Sorry, children but we’re not allowed to disturb the family. Perhaps next time. Come.” She gestured for the first line of students to follow her.
The second we took our seats on the bus, Grace turned to me. “Go on then, spill.” Laughing, I quickly related my meeting with the mystery man and her eyes grew round. “Oh, my God, Lee, he’s probably royalty?” Excitement made her speaker louder.
“Shh,” I clamped a hand over her mouth, my gaze darting quickly over the seat in front. I didn’t want the others to think I was making up shit. “Probably just the groundskeeper,” I whispered. Although if he were anyone’s groundskeeper, I was certain the woman of the house would make sure her grounds were unkempt just to have him call on her.
“Blowing his load down her throat instead of the leaves,” Grace snorted before we giggled. Then she added, “let’s pretend his royalty, shall we? It’s not like you’re going to see him again.”
“True.” I nodded with a sigh.
“Your very own royal gardener.” Grace laughed and I wrinkled my nose. “Or your very own Prince Winthrop.
“Hmm, now that, I like. My very own Prince Winthrop,” I rolled the name around my tongue. Wistful, I gazed out the window as the bus pulled away. What an adventure for my dear teenage heart. “Bye, beautiful castle, till we meet again.” I waved to the gates closing behind us, shoving the idea of meeting my mystery man again, into my mind’s historical glovebox.
Chapter 2 - Saint
Rubbing my eyes withthe heels of my palms, I cupped my neck and twisted from side to side. I’d spent the better part of last night tossing and turning, unable to get weird images out of my head until I gave up and went for a swim. While it didn’t help with the sleep, the cold water gave my lethargic body a boost that lasted two hours. I still couldn’t understand why sleep had evaded me despite my intense workout at the gym. Yet...
Stay with me.
The whispered words from those bizarre images resided in my brain, working around it like a recurrent pester. What was the meaning of it? More importantly, why could I not remember anything else besides that statement. The uncanny feeling I was missing something, left me dazed and disorientated for most of yesterday.
“Late night or old age?”
I glanced toward the entrance of my dining room. Rhett Sinclair, my cousin, stood there. Dapper in a navy suit and hands in his trouser pockets, his bright blue gaze roved over my face.
