“It’s too bad we cannot say the same for his son,”I said as our carriage pulled up and escorted us back to the cottage.
As my gran helped me out of my gown and took the pins down out of my hair, I apologized for not finding a proper suitor. The whole plan was for me to secure a suitable husband, and I had failed. Even though I had not intended to find one, a wave of guilt washed over me. It had been my duty, yet I had not taken it seriously and now the opportunity had passed. My mother pinned her hopes on my finding a man who could provide for us both. Father’s savings were dwindling rapidly, and within a year, there would be nothing left to sustain us.
“Oh, no, no. Do not fret. Tomorrow we shall see how many come knocking upon the door for a promenade around the grounds,”she said with a smile.“Now, you go and rest. It’s been a very long day.”
I lay in my bed trying to sleep, but I kept replaying the moment the duke’s son had run into me, causing me to drop the ornament. The look he had in his eye when he first realized what he had done and the way his expression changed when he noticed it was me. It was strange, as if he had some personal slight against me. But why? It didn’t make sense; he didn’t even know me.
Not able to sleep, I got up and walked quietly toward the kitchen to make a cup of tea when I heard Gran’s soft low voice, whispering a melodic kind of chant I’d never heard before.
I crept to the edge of the door and peered in. She sat in front of the fire, tossing what looked like dried flowers and stalks of weeds into the flames. The fire greedily devoured them and the room filled with an aromatic smoke as the flowers and herbs burned to cinders on the logs. The flames reflected in Gran’s eyes, dancing and moving about, and for a moment I swear her eyes looked as if they were completely white, devoid of their natural color.
Once she had tossed the last of the stalks into the fire, she braided what looked to be a lock of her gray hair, tucking a small piece of paper into the braid before tossing that into the fire as well. The hair hissed as it hit the flames and let out an unpleasant smell, and for a moment the smoke looked as if it turned a glowing shade of blue.
I stood still as stone, and for the first time, I understood. The signs had always been there, the dried herbs, strange symbols, and whispered charms, but I was too young to comprehend what they meant. Now I knew the whispers were true: Gran was a witch.
Chapter Twenty-One
Uninvited Guest
There was a sudden knock on the door, and Nora jumped, sending her crashing back to reality. Startled, she lost her grip on the book, and it fell to the floor. She stopped and waited, listening for another knock, but none came.
Must have been the wind from the storm, she thought. As she bent down to retrieve the book, she saw a shadowy figure skirt past the window next to the door and around toward the side of the house where she was sitting. Could it be Stuart? No, he had left some time ago now and wouldn’t have ventured back out in the awful weather. Her heart jumped into her throat. She hadn’t even considered asking about crime in the area. Horrible scenarios she had seen in scary movies flooded her mind. No, she was not going to let her fears get the best of her. Maybe someone had gone off the road and just needed help, but why would they be skulkingaround to the backside of the house? The knock came again, louder and more rapidly this time, on the window facing the loch. The sound bounced off the glass and reverberated through the cottage, sending fear racing down her spine with each sharp knock.
She quickly got to her feet and ran to the kitchen in search of some sort of weapon. She pulled out three drawers before finding a knife that looked so dull she doubted it would even cut an apple, but at least it was something. She gripped its base, her knuckles turning white with the pressure.
The outside porch light did nothing but cast a warm glow upon the falling snow that was now coming down so heavily it obscured everything in a hazy white veil. She crouched behind the kitchen island, lifting her head just high enough to peek through the window that faced the loch. Her eyes were glued to the window, but the light from the lamp behind her caused a mirror-like effect. All she could see was the reflection of the room staring back at her.
The rapping came again, this time from the other large window facing the loch. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that all she could hear was her own blood pumping rapidly through her veins. She bit her upper lip, knowing that whoever was out there was watching her, but she was blinded by the window’s reflection and the snowy shield that fell beyond it. Her palms were sweaty around the knife’s base as she crouched, still as stone, staring at the window.
Again the low, reverberating rap of knuckles upon glass echoed through the room. Each strike caused her stomach to clench in fear. In that moment Nora realized how utterly alone she was. She needed to call 999; there was undoubtedly someone attempting to break in, or at the very least, scare the livingdaylights out of her. She reached into her jeans pocket, only to find her phone missing. Scanning the room, she spotted it resting on the coffee table in front of the couch, positioned just in front of the windows. Glancing behind her at the door, she was relieved to see that the bolt lock was engaged. All she needed to do was gather her courage, sprint into the living room, grab her phone, and call for help, but as soon as she attempted to move, her feet felt like lead weights.
Still clutching the knife in her right hand, she finally propelled herself into the living room. Just as she was inches away from her phone, the knocking came again—louder, more like pounding this time. She looked up toward the mirror-like reflection of the glass. She could make out the silhouette of a man standing only feet away. A startled scream escaped her lips as she grabbed her phone. She had just begun to dial when a familiar voice cut through the glass.
“Christ sake, let me in. It’s bloody freezing out here!” She stopped. She knew that voice. In fact, it was a voice she had wished never to hear again.
She stepped forward just as he cupped his hands to the window and peered in, revealing his face. It was the annoying man she couldn’t seem to shake. He stared back at her and motioned toward the door, then vanished into the snow. Within a moment he was knocking at the front door.
Nora walked over and peeked out the window near the entrance, and he shot her an irritated look.
“Really? It’s absolutely freezing out here. Please open the door,” he said in a tone that was a mix of attitude and desperation.
She hesitated for a moment. Was it wise to let him inside? Here she was, a woman alone in a remote area of a foreign country, and he wasn’t exactly giving off the warmest of vibes. But leavinghim out in the blizzard was not an option; he might freeze. With a sigh, she unlocked the door and swung it open.
The wind blew snow into the tiny cottage, smattering Nora’s arms and face with snowflakes that melted almost instantly, leaving her speckled in icy water.
He stepped in and shut the door behind him. He was covered in snow, and his cheeks and nose were the shade of ripe tomatoes. Dusting the snow from his bag, he set it on the small wooden stool by the door as he kicked the snow from his boots and looked up at Nora.
“Whoa, there,” he said, taking a small step back.
Nora had forgotten that she was still gripping the dull kitchen knife in her hands as if she were Norman Bates.
“I know we didn’t get off on the right foot before, but no need for weapons,” he said, lifting his hands above his head in a fake surrender.
Nora rolled her eyes and walked toward the kitchen, tossing the knife onto the counter.
“What are you doing back here? You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, I knocked on the door a few times, but you didn’t hear me, so I went over to the window. I figured I would be able to get your attention there. I didn’t mean to scare you, I swear,” he said in a sincere tone.
